My Return to Yoga and Humility

Humility is something that Yoga teaches us in abundance. Why? For a start, it doesn't matter how far you go, there is always further to go. Always. It doesn't matter how far into your forward fold you can go, or how many seconds you can hold in headstand, or how many minutes you can sit in meditation. There is always further to go. When we unlock one level of strength, flexibility, release, or surrender, the next level opens. The next edge reveals itself. So, it never becomes easier overall even as some things do become easier, we just reach the next challenge, whether we are on the mat or navigating life. This in itself keeps us humble. The next point of the practice or life becomes clear. It is a never-ending journey, as stated in the Bhagavad Gita, "Of the Self, through the Self, to the Self."

Yoga encourages us to lead without ego, to be aware and accepting of different viewpoints even if we have our own, and to have a grounded self-view, knowing our strengths and limitations clearly without exaggerating or devaluing ourselves. Yoga encourages us to see everyone as an extension of ourselves, and to choose love and connection over hate and separation. This prevents us from developing a pretentious view of our own importance, and free from pride and arrogance. It helps to keep us modest because there is always further to go, and the more we journey through the self on the journey of union that is Yoga, the more we understand that. On a spiritual level, it is the recognition that we are all connected and no-one is more or less special than anyone else.

Yoga teaches us humility, for this letting go of our pride, arrogance, and inflated sense of self occurs most perhaps on our mat after periods of absence. Or when we first get on it full stop. Life happens, and it is both within and outside of our control. We have holidays, injuries, tragedies, celebrations. Our lives are disrupted by our hormones, sleep patterns, our immune systems, and the cycles of the moon. The ever-changing landscape of opportunities and obstacles in our practice that mean even the most avid practitioner experiences disruption in their practice from time to time.

This ever-changing reality of time spent on the mat or in our head means that sometimes we feel alive and great in our bodies and clear in our minds, and sometimes we feel stiff and heavy, lethargic, or scattered. We feel like we're inhabiting a body that no longer feels like ours, and feel a drain on our vitality, our zest for life, because our life force energy is not flowing and life suddenly feels much more personal and disconnected.

It's not a bad thing for our ego to be kept in check, to be humbled by life. Humility is all about learning to not take ourselves too seriously. To not get too caught up in the details. Humility is connected to the fifth inner observance, niyama, of the Ashtanga Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, Ishvara Pranidhana. It means we do not put ourselves at the centre of the universe because we recognise that we are indeed the ocean in a drop, not a drop in the ocean, but that we are also part of an interconnected whole. Like the geometry depicted in the beautiful flower of life, we are all connected and exist as a whole, every single one of us.

Yes, you are consciousness. But equally, so is the person sat next to you. So is the person sat on the other side of the world, so were your ancestors, and so are your enemies. We're in it together, which is why the underlying rule of nature is collaboration and care, not competition and selfishness. The latter comes from letting our ego take control of our life force energy, which puts itself at the centre of the universe and sees the world from a place of fear of losing what it has, and lack, never having enough. When we let our consciousness, or our awareness, take control of our life force energy, we see the world as an interconnected whole, and this is reflected in care, compassion, generosity, humility, trust, and love towards all of nature. Including ourselves. Often, we are our own worst critic and enemy.

When we can stop putting ourselves at the centre of universe and see the world as an interconnected whole, and stop taking ourselves too seriously and getting caught up in the details, we can begin to distance ourselves from the circumstances and experiences of our life situation. Our perspective changes. Yes, life happens, and sometimes our ego judges it as good and sometimes it judges it as bad.

Sometimes we can do a yoga pose and sometimes we can't. But while our ego will label these experiences and becomes disheartened or elated by them, our consciousness just observes them. There is no polarity in consciousness, it is already whole and complete, so there is no good or bad, it just is.

So, our consciousness, the witness to our practice, does not judge our practice. Getting out of the trap of the mind and journeying through the self, through the body and the judgements of the mind, back to the self, is a wonderful gift when life's distractions draw us away from our mats for whatever reason.

Suddenly, the body is filled with a sense of being weak as a kitten, or as wooden as a chopped down, dried up tree. The challenge of the journey is then to not judge even more than normal, and be present for it. To practice without attachment. To have no expectation of what we can do. This is amplified ten-fold after these times of absence.

The mental resistance to getting back on the mat is often strong because we know the challenge is coming and the mind resists the discomfort through all of its best strategies to avoid stepping out of its comfort zone and fear of the unknown. Yet often, it is not as bad as we imagined. It is a journey back to the body and peace that we remembered, and afterwards we muse, "That was not so bad as I imagined after all!"

This is the same when we lean into all fears and discomfort in life, the mind resists by imagining all of the worst-case scenarios, and then afterwards we say, "That was not so bad after all, what was I so worried about! I am glad I put myself out there and did the thing that scared me or that I knew would be uncomfortable." And that journey is a beautiful gift in itself, it stops us becoming complacent or arrogant and teaches us humility time and time again - it is not 'our body' and we cannot control everything in our lives. But we can navigate our life situation and our body with humility and courage, whilst accepting their ever-changing nature.

The body is a wonderful space suit made of recycled star dust that allows us to experience life. We are gifted with our sacred body for this lifetime on the rapidly moving mass of rock that we call Earth as it orbits the sun. Everything is in motion from the Earth and its seasons to the experience we have of the body we call ours. Don't hold on too tightly, don't grasp. To anything. It all changes. Focus on what amazing things your body can do for you instead, what it allows you to experience and feel, and cultivate an attitude of acceptance and gratitude. When we focus on what is and stop resisting it, when we can accept change with humility and grace and stop seeing it as happening to us but instead as the natural movement of nature, we can begin to stop taking things as personally.

And when we cut through the seriousness with humour and laughter, this really is the best remedy for taking ourselves and life too seriously. Nothing cuts through the seriousness of our ego and life situation like humour, and it immediately returns us to a place of joy and being in the moment, in our true nature as consciousness. Humour and humility go hand in hand. They both derive from the same root word for humanity: humus. There's a reason we can laugh or cry in situations, and both have their place, they even come from the same place - our abdomen. But laughing feels better.

We have to have a sense of humility to be able to laugh at ourselves, and to laugh at ourselves reminds us of our shared humanity. It creates a sense of ease and allows us to let go. Don't hold on too tightly, don't take it all so personally. It's not happening to you from some malicious place, and it will pass. It definitely doesn't matter if you can't do a yoga pose today, it is all just the ever-changing cycles and rhythms of life. No matter how big or small. It just is. Consciousness simply is (steadfast and unchanging), and nature simply is (ever creative and changing).

And all we can do is our best in each moment, without becoming attached to the results. This is the basis of Karma Yoga, explained most wonderfully in the Bhagavad Gita.

Humility is understanding that we are all human, we all have the same capacity for constructive and destructive emotional states and experiences, we all go through most of the same types of loss and suffering in our lives at different points, none of us are better or more worthy than anyone else. We are all the same, interconnected, at our essence, with an equal right to experience happiness and freedom.

I want to share my journey back to my physical asana yoga practice because it illustrates how we are all the same: we are all the culmination of what we do and what we think. And how humility is a wonderful gift of stepping back onto the mat after absence. I have practised yoga since I was 14, I have been an avid Ashtangi for 11 years, but I can still feel like I have just started yoga after 5 weeks off the mat. We become adept in what we practice. We become what we think. We are all in it together, and we all experience ebbs and flows in our body, practice, and life situation. How we act and respond to them, and each other, is the inner work and purpose.

I arrived home late Friday 21st August, and after spending over a day travelling back from Peru, I then spent the next day driving a 7 hour round trip to go and collect my daughter. So, I'd travelled across half the world and then half way across the country in a few days off the back of an exceptional trip that involved much hiking and travelling (I will share some of this in later blogs, I promise!). My first opportunity for physical yoga, asana, came on the following Monday.

Day 1 was hard. Whose body is this, was a thought that came often from my ego, that I tried to just notice and not give energy to. It was weak. I had no core. My arms were wobbly and shaky. On the inside, the sensations I encountered registered a feeling of missing all the flexibility, depth, and ease that I'm usually accustomed to. I practised slow, intuitive and gentle movements with the breath and incorporated lots of yin long hold poses. I even had many little breaks to come back to my centre because my energy was all scattered and I was easily distracted over 2 hours, on and off.

It was both beautiful and humbling, a reminder to flow with life and what is, and not be attached to expectations, or be attached to the past or the future. I simply just enjoyed feeling really getting into and releasing the body after so long

I also had the most amazing Shavasana at the end. Woah, my body needed to let go. I normally struggle more with Shavasana at home at the end of my practice, which is always at home, more than anything else because there's always things to do. This one was easily 15 minutes and only ended when I heard mum bring my daughter home from the park. I could have laid there all day, absolutely relaxed and alert. It was magical.

Day 2 was on the following Friday. It was time for being brave and bracing the first Ashtanga. I chanted the opening mantra and really centred on hearing my ujjayi breath and engaging my energy locks, bandhas. I'd eaten 2 hours before and whilst not a heavy meal, my body protested badly. I knew from the first forward folds I was in trouble, and I suffered terrible heart burn throughout every fold from my stomach making its discomfort felt. That was a new experience and perhaps the most unpleasant one I'd ever had. My body didn't feel at all like 'mine' still and the heart burn became progressively worse throughout, which never normally happens even if I have eaten 1-2 hours before because 'my' body is so used to it. I could have used that as a reason to stop, but instead I listened to the body and modified the practice.

It felt like my body was purging a lot of discomfort in my abdomen and heart, and indeed throughout my whole body as I moved through the strong sequence of Ashtanga poses and transitions with an attitude of, "Ah so, I have heart burn. Ah so, I can't bind this today. Ah so, my jump throughs feel like I'm throwing a big floppy bag of sand through 2 wobbly bridge supports that might fall down any second."

It wasn't clean, it wasn't light, but it did have presence and acceptance, compassion and truth. I modified it more than I've ever modified it except when pregnant, and missed out the 'fun bit' and all the core compressions, shoulder stands, and full wheels completely. My stomach was uncomfortable doing what I did, I'd be throwing up on my mat and in pain if I did them.

So, I listened, accepting the reality of the moment with kindness whilst mindfully moving through the bits I felt intuitively I could do. I was focused on the breath, hearing it and feeling it move me throughout, and really explored the sensations of each posture.

I did the first arm balance but not the second. I didn't hold headstand for the full time because I could feel it in my neck, the forearms and triceps weren't working hard enough to take the weight, so I listened to my body and cut it before the 20 breaths were up. "Whose feet are these?" I could hear my mind protesting as my pointed feet cramped in headstand, and cut through the thought with the absurdity of the idea of someone else's feet on the end of my legs. There was no disappointment or judgement, just acceptance of what was.

As insulting to the ego as it can be to lose our flexibility and strength at times, it is also a deeply exploratory and humbling time to turn up our awareness of what's happening. We have to let go of our ego and sense of what our body feels like and can do, and just flow with what is.

We also know full well if we continue to practice, it'll change in the opposite way again soon. And in the meantime, "that's what this pose used to feel like! That's the depth and location of this stretch!"

It's like we put a magnifying glass on the sensations, they're heightened enough to really get to grips with where and what things are happening, to actually feel the inner body, distinct muscles, the directions of things. How to switch things on. How to release things. This can be viewed as a bad thing or a gift to clearly perceive the resistance we encounter in all its fullness and accept the ever-changing environment of inner and outer worlds.

Don't go with the flow, become the flow. The only constant we have is impermanence, and this type of time is a wonderful opportunity to practice humility and shake off the, "I am great, watch me go!" mentality the ego naturally has when we get well versed in something, and to remind ourselves of the temporary nature of all things. And to be okay with that. When things become hard, rather than resisting what is, reframe, what is this teaching me? This isn't just a lesson humility teaches us on the mat.

Day 3 came the following Tuesday when my daughter had a play date at a friend's (school holidays are a tough time for practice!). I did Ashtanga again. This time I started to feel the small traces of my core coming back, my arms a little steadier. I did the whole practice this time, although not with the same strength and confidence of pre-Peru. It was slow, reminding me of the roots of the practice. It was a chance to focus on alignment and the intangible aspects, breath, energy locks, bandhas, and focal point for the gaze, drishti. I still modified a couple of poses, not even trying to bind Marichyasana D or Supta Kurmasana (both advanced postures). But I did everything else. Slowly and with contentment.

This was a slower journey back to my body than usual, maybe it was all the walking! Whenever I do a lot of walking or cycling, I do feel this even short term. And I've never walked so much or hiked so many mountains as I did in Peru! I'm also getting older. There are many variables, always.

But I could feel it happening slowly and I trusted my body implicitly to respond to whatever I put in, practice, intent and food. Love the body. And my body was definitely responding to the shift to whole foods again and yoga. I even did full wheel, feeling my wrists and shoulders not quite as open as they were previously, and my stomach infinitely tighter, but I went as far as I could and was content with that. No drop backs yet. I didn't do a right-angle legs headstand but held a traditional upright one for the full 20 breaths.

Day 4 came on Thursday, first day back to school. I did Ashtanga again, free of expectation, and could not help but be delighted in how much better it felt again! The ego is even harder not to feed when the successes come. I dropped back in to the full wheels from standing and even touched my fingers to bind behind my back in Supta Kurmasana (legs and arms behind the back in deep forward fold). I did the whole practice with much more flow and strength, and there was nothing I missed out, although I still didn't attempt to fully bind Marichyasana D, I could tell intuitively the space wasn't there yet. Oh it felt good to be feeling my strength come back, I thought, whilst reminding myself to practice indifference in the next moment!

I did all 5 Navasanas, boat pose, and my legs were shaking and core was trembling, but they were getting easier. I did my first Chakrasana, the backward flip transition from lying down into Chaturanga, elbows bent plank - my favourite transition. It relied more on momentum the first time and I only just made it, but felt much stronger on the second. I did Sirsasana, headstand, both versions for the full time. I could bind my toes again in Padmasana, the lotus fold at the end. And moving my breath up and down in lotus has never felt so good. Breath wave and bandha control was coming back. In the final pose, Upluthi, lotus pose lifted up into an arm balance, I hung there for the 8 breaths with my arms and core trembling, but I made it.

Day 5 was the next day, Friday. The sun salutations felt so much stronger, I no longer wobbled in the standing balances on one or both sides. I had been all over the place on at least one leg at some point throughout them previously as I rebuilt the strength in my right leg. The Navasanas, boat poses, were strong and tight throughout, and I even bound fingers (no wrists still) in Marichyasana D.

This was the first time I really felt myself stepping slowly into a body I was starting to recognise as one that does that yoga. Not my body, it can always change based on what I do and think and eat, but one that feels light, strong, balanced and supple and supports my experience through life with ease. I did the full shoulder stand sequence with all the binds, with knees to the ground in Karnapidasana again for the first time, shoulder stand with knees around the ears. I managed the upside-down shoulder stand lotus legs and fold without feeling like I was going to lose my centre of balance and roll out due to lack of core and my stomach feeling untrained and in the way. Drop backs to wheel felt much more controlled on the way down, and when coming back up to stand right from the first round.

I also had to modify still. During right angle headstand, Ardha Sirsasana, my arms were getting tired and I felt the lack of support in my neck, so listened to the body and came out. It's okay to move backwards and forwards day to day, week to week, it doesn't mean I'm worse than yesterday, just that my arms are getting tired and listening to the body is rule number 1, not the ego.

In the weekends and week that followed, I did yoga every day, physical asana practice and meditation. My practice was back to pretty much where it was.

I didn't even attempt handstands until last week. There was no point, I could feel my core was lethargic and relaxed and I needed to reactivate it before trusting it to hold me in a handstand easily. And as always, what's good for the core? Vinyasas. And the Ashtanga primary series has plenty of them. Lay the foundation before building your house on the sand. You think you do a lot of vinyasas in a flow class? Those are just the warm up in full Ashtanga. After a good 35 vinyasas each practice over a couple of weeks of Ashtanga, mixed in with a couple of luxurious Yin practices, I could feel my core was ready once more, and first-time success even on a carpet! As those of you that come to my classes early know, if I have any spare time on a hard floor to do a handstand, I take it with both hands literally, because hard floors are so much easier. So, a long carpet success is so much more gratifying! 

The upshot of all this? What a difference a short amount of time and practice can make! What a lot of change from one Friday and all of its modifications, heart burn, and feeling like a beginner again, to the following Friday and starting to feel like 'myself' again, strong, light, energised, and relaxed. And by the next, back to where I was. So much change, and yet one awareness witnessing all of that change, whilst trying not to react to it or make it personal, to own it, cling to it, or to grasp for it.

In 3 weeks, I've gone from feeling wooden, weak and like I'm heaving a heavy sack of potatoes smuggled into my torso around, to nimble, strong, and light once more. That's what regular practice is. Never forget, you are what you do and what you think. I say this often, but really let it sink in.

Yoga teaches humility, to not have an inflated sense of self and too much pride or arrogance, but also to value, respect, and love yourself. To be truthful and compassionate with yourself and accept where you are throughout all the ebbs and flows of practice and life.

Nothing ever belongs to us and everything changes, it is all transitory, as Yoga teaches. But we always have a choice what sort of journey we take through life. We can choose temporary discomfort, knowing that like the gold at the end of the rainbow, there will be something valuable on the other side. Choosing to go through the discomfort, through the fear, humbles us. We may fail, it may not be pretty, it may be hard, our ego may take a knock. But we will grow. It forces us to feel without anywhere to hide on our mat. It allows us to come out of the fire of transformation on the other side experiencing lightness and ease in our body and mind.

It's a journey just like life: up and down, back and forth. Let your practice evolve and change like the seasons, and go with the flow of life. Don't resist the flow, there will be challenges. There will be ups and down, blows to our ego and our sense of self. Choose humility through it all.

• 

• 

•