Liminal Space// Finding Meaning in Movements

Things are simple. Things are complicated. Things are simple again.

Yoga is much like a Mobius, I think. It has a way of turning back in on itself over and over again.

Sometimes the body itself informs be about life.

And sometimes life informs me about the body.

Recently, I shifted my transition into virabhadrasana iii (warrior iii). I slowed everything way down, so that I could focus on just how weight transferred between my feet and among my toes. And this shifted everything. Not just the transition between warrior I and iii, though that was pretty spectacular.

It brought my attention to transitions generally. What is their purpose? How are we meeting them?

My family and I commute by bike. Rain, shine, snow and (now) sleet. We ride our bikes. One of the reasons I delight in riding a bike is that I am absolutely where I am now when I ride the bike. I experience my journey completely. On my bike, I (mostly) must be in the moment, focusing my awareness on pedaling, steering, shifting, staying upright, avoiding car doors and collisions. I am embodied presence on my bike. For me, biking transforms travel from a transition to an actual state and place of being.

Recently, I heard a piece on Think Out Loud (an Oregon Public Broadcasting radio show) that included a discussion on how smart phones have changed waiting and transitional space. On one hand, I adore being able to take out my iphone while hanging out in line at the Post Office and filling that time with whatever gems the internet has to offer; on the other hand, going to my phone at least partially removes me from the actual experience of my life. We can be in such a rush to get to the next big thing that we completely miss out on the expression of presence in the present moment.

And this has a way of playing out across the spectrum of our lives, from that seemingly mundane queue at the bank to the periods in our lives when things appear to be in transition. By rushing, we are missing out on the gifts that are beneath the surface.

Think of the power in showing up to life as it is rather than as a step to what’s next.

We could start expressing ourselves completely in each moment, rather than ticking off the time as a means to an end, a potentially unfulfilling end, I might add a little self-indulgently.

Our attention is a powerful tool. Simply by paying attention to something, I find that things shift (sometimes radically) without a whole lot of effort. Sometimes we are addicted to the effort. Relaxing our grasp on it even a little bit can be a scary and profound endeavor.

This doesn’t mean that we aren’t growing or working to change injustice (or realizing our full potential in other ways), but by experiencing where we are as fully and completely as possible, we allow for so much more to unfold than if our vision is focused narrowly on one version/vision of the world.

Usually the relaxing of effort takes a while. And when it is time to move more forcefully, you will know.

How to start?

The body is a wonderfully concrete place to begin. I like to practice transitioning from table to devotional to table to down-dog at the pace of my breath. Using the entire breath to transition and lingering in the shape only the length of the pause between parts of the breath (the kumbhak). This takes practice. When I teach this in class, I observe the rushing between shapes, impatience with this “easy” sequence, striving to get somewhere else. It is hard work and resistance will likely come. The next step is noticing just what you feel, physiologically, in the movements.

Practice, over many moons, without attachment to any results.

See what happens.

LOVE.