Yin and yang

Eight years ago, I took my first restorative yoga class by mistake. As I reclined on my bolster, I remember feeling upset that I was missing out on an opportunity to move my body. To me, a good yoga class meant leaving the studio dripping in sweat, feeling sore the next day, or attempting a new pose I’d never tried before.

Throughout the course of my yoga journey, I’ve admittedly left classes feeling frustrated by teachers who I believed at the time did not challenge me enough. After one of these classes, I’d often wonder why I’d leave my mat feeling angrier than when I showed up. 

Little did I know that slowing down was the challenge I needed most.

Living in today’s digital age, it is easy to get lost in the external. Most of us spend the majority of our time busy, overstimulated, and constantly plugged in. After a long day of work, there’s a family or a home to care for. Meals to cook. Even keeping up with our social lives requires great effort. Then, what do we do to relax during a rare moment of downtime? Scroll, watch, consume. Rinse and repeat.

If you think back on your week, can you recall a period of time when you just sat and just allowed yourself to be? In fact, simply existing without doing is hard work. But, it is incredibly important. 

So, why is it important to slow down?

The entire world that we exist within is our own projection of reality, which is based on our individual relationships, attachments, thoughts, and perceptions. The core objective of yoga is to restrain these mental modifications and see what is there for what it is. However, it is impossible to eliminate these influences if you aren’t aware of the fact that they are there in the first place.

Here’s a personal example to help bring this to life. 

I don’t really talk about it much but, for an extended period of my life, I lived in a dissociative state due to past trauma. This means that while I was a living, breathing human interacting with the world around me, I walked around in a fog most of the time. People who knew me then probably did not realize that I felt this way and, on some level, I accepted this state of being as all that I was capable of. I had a steady job in marketing. I had friends and a partner. I exercised and meal prepped every week. I smiled and laughed in conversation with others.

Despite feeling completely numb, I was still going through the motions of day-to-day life as a person “should”. But there was a big problem. The tiniest inconvenience was enough to shatter the facade. If the R train was delayed on the way to work, I’d seethe. An uncomfortable interaction was enough to ruin the entire day. 

Our minds are very powerful — and back then mine was protecting me from facing painful emotions by repressing all of my feelings. But we are humans, not machines. And one of the most beautiful things about being human is the power to feel. We cannot be passionate, joyful, or excited if we don’t allow ourselves to be sad, angry, or afraid when we need to be. 

We do not intentionally run away from our feelings. It is a slow and sneaky process, a drain that we don’t notice is clogged until the water pools at our feet. But by the time we notice the clog, it floods. If we allow ourselves to sit in our feelings as they arise, they become easier to maintain and manage, which allows us to exist in a more balanced state.

What does that look like?

For one, it means not always doing. And, if you’re anything like me, that part is really fucking tough. As a society, we are conditioned to hold on. We applaud resilience. But what if we reframed strength as allowing ourselves to cry, or not driving ourselves crazy to achieve conventional success, or openly talking about these struggles that we all face? People who know my story have told me that I’m strong, but I’ve never identified with that word until I learned to own and celebrate all of the parts of me that make up who I am today, both the good and the bad.

In addition to Vinyasa classes and other forms of exercise, I have recently begun to practice Yin yoga. This style of yoga requires holding each asana for an extended period of time, which can be incredibly uncomfortable. It’s amazing to observe the thoughts, emotions, and sensations that arise during a Yin class. At times, I desperately want to get out of the pose but must channel my breath and mental discipline to remain still. Beyond leaving class feeling emotionally relieved, I’ve noticed that I’m less susceptible to irritation in the days that follow. As an unexpected bonus, it has also improved my Vinyasa practice, as it teaches both my mind and my body to let go. (Shout out to Danielle Martucci at Powerflow who is an incredible instructor and all-around great human).

Slowing down also means being present. Ironically, as I type this on an Apple product that both empowers me to share these words with you and takes me further away from you, I cannot emphasize enough the importance of unplugging. My husband and I recently spent an entire weekend upstate without our phones. We printed out directions, relied on a physical map to get around, and enjoyed the silence of nature. This allowed us to see things we might not have seen and make new connections with strangers. While I am not ready to completely part with technology (and I’m not suggesting that anyone should), I have noticed a huge difference in my mental state when I make time in my day to enjoy the warmth of the sun, walk barefoot in the grass, and breathe in the fresh air. Especially during these days of Zoom calls and Amazon Prime. You don’t realize how much we allow technology to think for us and separate us from the people around us until you begin to rip off the bandaid. 

I’m not really sure how to end this post other than to say that there are a lot of sad things happening in the world today and I hope that by sharing these words I can help even just one person to reconnect with themselves and their feelings. Because the whole world is out there waiting for us — if only we’re ready to see it for ourselves. 

Love + light.

Lex