Flow Like a Yogi: What Yoga Taught Me About Moving Through Life

Photo taken in Riaza, Spain

Inner Skeptic

Forgive me for stating the obvious: I’m a romantic to an embarrassing fault. With my bright-siding capacity, I can take things to mortifying lengths, twisting the awkward, turning things up in which corny meets cringeworthy in every wincingly cheesy way.

I will say, however, that I have worked on this area over the years. Perhaps only the subject in question can truly see one’s improvement over time.

Nevertheless, it comes as no shock how life manages to bring out the cynic from even the most steadfast of optimists. Try as we might, even the smallest of triggers invites the lurking pessimist to take over.

Despite our best efforts, sometimes the worst part of ourselves tries to block our potential and keep us from staying true to who we are. I share all of this because it has everything to do with the topic at hand. 

Maybe it’s a common experience others can relate to, but every now and then, I catch my inner skeptic doubting something I quite honestly know nothing about. The strange part is that with regard to this particular subject, a plethora of opinions, theories, and attitudes appear to surround it—hovering like a cloud of such density that I could hardly distinguish fact from fiction. 

It’s difficult when so many thoughts and notions seemingly convince us before we even get the chance to think for ourselves. An automatic mind already made up suffers from the absence of personal examination with questions like: What do I know for sure? 

What leads me to think like so? What’s true based on my own lived experience? I lacked all of this when I first came across the mere idea of this activity, one that I scoffed at with ridicule and little regard. 

It’s unfortunate when we allow any stereotypes to dictate our decisions. But I fell directly into this trap, finding nothing but absurdity in the simple image of anyone wearing the classic attire, bending down on a mat, and waving their hands in the air like some giddy flower enthusiast so clearly high on life. 

Again, I was ignorant in the extreme. That is until, little by little, I followed my growing curiosity enough to step onto the floor and find out just what this ancient practice had in store.

No Excuses

It took more than a few tries for me to appreciate what this whole thing was even about. For the most part, especially in the beginning, I failed to understand the value anyone might gain from moving the body around in such a basic way.

At least, that’s how it looked to me at first. In retrospect, the joke was on me, and I would eventually learn this in years to come.

But when I first started, I did not know what I was doing. I felt like a complete fool, holding my arms up and leaning on my lower limbs in a manner that could not have seemed more foreign to me.

It didn’t help that I chose to put myself in this uncomfortable position, literally and figuratively, all the while inside a sweltering furnace of a room—for the fun of it, apparently. The first time I mustered the courage to take a shot at this, I chose hot yoga. Go figure.

So there I stood, sweating bullets, beads dripping onto the surface of my mat as I attempted to find any ounce of pleasure in taking in the dry, hot air. It wasn’t long before I found myself busting out of there and into the hallway, savoring the natural coolness outdoors.

Needless to say, this wasn’t exactly the best introduction to the art of yoga. It wouldn’t be for several years, and in the middle of a global pandemic, when I decided to give it another go. 

At a time when the world grew dark and silent, it was time for me to finally look into the meaning of this practice. With no more distractions or excuses, I stepped onto the mat once again.

Of course, the disaster only continued, at least for a short while. I kept falling out of poses, feeling stupid and caught up in my self-critical mind.

But I showed up again and again, gradually confronting what it was that kept stalling me so much: my own self-consciousness. In Being Ram Dass, he writes:

“In a very real sense, yoga is about evolving from being a somebody to a nobody. That was hard to get my mind around, because I was brought up to be a somebody. This was a far-reaching and subtle shift in how I defined myself. Who I thought I was, the old role models, even my identification with my mind itself, were changing. I still had lots of stuff to let go, but I was starting to identify less with who I thought I was and more with who I actually am.”

To Yoke

It’s interesting how often the connection between two different things gets obscured. It’s not always easy to recognize the natural effects something has on another at first glance.

Yet even after coming to this realization, I still tend to underestimate the interrelatedness of two seemingly separate parts of myself, regardless of how many times I felt otherwise on some deeper level; the interrelatedness between my body and mind, for instance.

If there’s any undertaking I’ve tried so far that has personally allowed me to discover an invigorating oneness between the two, it would be yoga. This makes sense considering that the word derives from the meaning “to join” or “to yoke.”

Not unlike the way one would yoke their horses together as in olden days, the concept works the same in this context in that every component is joined to carry the task in the present. Just as a driver reins in one’s horse to support the overall load, this ancient practice involves a similar endeavor by linking the body and mind into a single focused effort.

The more work I put in to follow these teachings consistently, the more I gained insight into the truth behind these words. It also showed me the value of both yin and yang energy, including the significance of balancing each area on a regular basis.

Before exploring any of this, I never distinguished between these contrasting approaches, nor did I notice whether I was unknowingly off balance. While firing things up energetically is necessary for getting things done, it’s also important to respect the body by giving it the rest it deserves. 

In many ways, flowing through yoga serves as a moving meditation filled with both high and low energies; a poignant metaphor for the journey of life itself. In A Journey to Yin Yoga, Travis Eliot writes:

“Everything is in motion. Life is cyclical. It is the cycle of yin and yang that can never be separated. You can’t have life without death. You can’t go up without coming down. You can’t be aware without sleeping. You can’t have sweetness without the challenges. Yet for many of us, we strive for control. We cling to what we label as good. We try to avoid what we label as bad. This mentality imprisons us in a little box of misery. Inside of this box, we suffer because we are fighting the flow of the Tao.”

Inner Dimension

There’s a saying that has caught on over the years, and that is how “the body keeps the score.” The phrase originates from Dutch psychiatrist Bessel van der Kolk’s book, which sheds light on actual life events physically altering the brain and nervous system. 

As a result, these difficult experiences leave somatic, bodily “scores” like imprints. At first, I didn’t know any of this when I became a regular practitioner of yoga, but over time, I couldn’t deny the feeling of lightness and calm it brought to my overall well-being. 

During one of my sessions, I learned that the body resembles a sponge, constantly collecting impressions throughout our days. Moment to moment, we store so much in our systems without even realizing it. 

The instructor emphasized that in response to this ongoing dynamic, it is our responsibility to squeeze out the excess remnants as often as possible. Similar to a regular detox, we are prioritizing our holistic health by wringing out the toxins we no longer need to carry. 

Another change I became more aware of is the difference in my breathing. Through controlling the rhythm and length of every inhale and exhale, I was able to get a sense of clarity and connection with what I was concentrating on. 

At a later point, I wasn’t surprised to find out how instrumental these techniques were during earlier times in India, where this all originated. According to history, the yogis primarily relied on these exercises centered on posture, breath, mindfulness, and relaxation to access an inner dimension of energy that leads to higher states of consciousness.

Traditionally, they used the power of the senses and the breath as a vehicle for eliminating mental attachments, stabilizing any fluctuations in their respiration with regularity and harmony. In The Body Keeps the Score, Dr. Bessel van der Kolk emphasizes the transformative benefits of yoga as a tool for centering the body, regulating the nervous system, and reconnecting with who we truly are from a place of self-awareness. He writes:

“As I often tell my students, the two most important phrases in therapy, as in yoga, are ‘Notice that’ and ‘What happens next?’ Once you start approaching your body with curiosity rather than with fear, everything shifts.”

Form and the Formless

It’s funny how a random interest we initially detested turns into something so pure and precious. One step toward the pursuit of what might, at the outset, feel so out of character becomes one of the very things we honestly can’t live without.

Despite any preconceived notions you might’ve had, you surprise yourself, discarding them out of respect for what clearly matters a great deal more than anything you could dare to come up with on your own. 

Before you know it, something changes at a cellular level that only you can even begin to acknowledge deep within your bones. If you’re lucky enough to catch the tiniest glimpse of it, something magical occurs. 

A plain and ordinary moment takes you over, trumping any audacity of thought itself. A practice breathes life into you, lightly urging a sweet recognition and remembrance of what, contrary to all circumstance, could never truly be lost. 

Who would have found power in an innocent little pose? Who could have guessed that a simple little stance might lead to the unshakeable knowing of the vessel that you are and the spaciousness that you fill? 

It’s not every day that such a gift of insight lifts one’s gaze for an instant. But I rest assured in its promise regardless of its fleeting nature.

While I remain a novice, stumbling and shaking as I have from the start, I find solace in striving not for achievement’s sake. You get what you give, and the more I give my fullest attention to my practice, the more I appreciate what it has to offer.

Perhaps the body always knows, always ready in its entirety; always enduring as the sturdy bridge it always is between the form and the formless, so that even for a second, we might chance an encounter of all that resides within and without—a meeting and a merging with what will always remain infinite in every possible, unthinkable way.