Injury Lights the Way

Accidents happen and lately they have been happening close to home.  Lisa and Sandy attacked by a dog, Cameron's bicycle accident and tonight when the elevator door opened I stared into the battered and bruised face of a man who looked as if he'd done a face plant into a storm drain.  In times like these it can be difficult to see the silver lining yet is important to remember that even injury can be a teacher and often it is one of our greatest teachers.  Something as individual as a misunderstanding with a colleague or as global as the abuse imposed on our planet are tremendous opportunities for growth.

I’ve had a few minor injuries and one serious injury in my Yoga career thus far.  The minor injuries were wake up calls that underscored the importance of being truthful about my body’s capability and the value of being content with one’s own practice at any given moment.  The serious injury completely transformed my approach to teaching, practicing and living Yoga. 

I broke my leg during a period of major transition that left me feeling completely ungrounded and desperately in search of my center.  Hobbling around on crutches was a poignant reflection of my inner state.  Once I moved through the initial shock, pain, restlessness of being temporarily disabled, my injury catapulted me into a deep inquiry around the unresolved residues that led to my accident, the trauma itself and the ensuing emotional aftermath.  At this point I had found Yoga Nidra but not my teacher Richard Miller.  I had yet to develop the language to describe the step-by-step reintegration of mind, body and spirit I was experiencing.  Looking back it is clear that Yoga Nidra was one of the major lines that pulled me up and out of the mire and back onto a path where work and play, offering and receiving are equal.  Two years later, this process continues to unfold and reveal more guests to welcome into my cozy living room.

The first set of emotions and beliefs I welcomed related to my ideas regarding work, work ethic, discipline and competition.  I loving refer to myself as a recovering type-A personality. The qualities of a type A personality are essentially beneficial if kept in proper balance.  When out of balance however these qualities can threaten physical vitality and emotional health.  The same is true of other personalities, though the type A's are notorious precisely because their determined and outgoing energy makes them difficult to miss.  Historically it is always been challenging for me to do “nothing” or to just “be”.  I have a very busy mind and am always on the move.  I equated even momentary stillness with laziness or failure and was frantically avoiding the discomfort of sitting alone with myself.  I had fully adopted the belief that I am a measure of what I do rather than who I am and this was the flame that led to my self-combustion.  The heavyweights in the arena of self-defeating inner dialog are shame, blame and guilt and the accident left plenty of all three to wrestle with.  When able to transcend this trio I moved deeper into the intricate web of my psyche in search of the core belief that led me to take an action that put my physical well being behind that of an automobile’s.

My type A tendencies were also present in my yoga practice.  Initially I was extremely goal oriented and the concept of enjoying the journey flew right over my head.  Practices that involved movement for movement’s sake or body sensing where foreign and uncharted territories I dared not enter.  After 15 years of gymnastic training, everything was a competition and I was my own biggest rival.  I was, and continue to be, drawn to physically challenging and acrobatic styles of yoga.  My unexpected injury not only forced me to slow down but it provided an opportunity to get comfortable with the uncomfortable.  The simultaneous discovery of Yoga Nidra was a blessing.  It softened my perfectionist tendencies, ameliorated self-imposed pressure and taught me to enjoy being instead of always doing.  The gem of the practice is that it pacifies the harsh voice of my inner critic by simply welcoming it.  When this happens I have effectively created a space for the whole of myself to shine.

Yoga and Yoga Nidra teach us that we are more than the collection of labels and roles we assume unconsciously or by choice throughout our life.  Thus it follows that I began to examine the many ideas about the role of a yoga teacher.  Right away I was confronted with the fact that being injured I was no longer able to perform and demonstrate the postures I taught daily.  I also became acutely aware of the pedestal I had put myself up on through the encouragement of my ego and the projections of students.  A belief that yoga teachers are immune to the trials and tribulations of life and are perfectly healthy, selfless and equanamous beings announced itself.  A motto I picked up from a Portland based teacher resonates, “Yoga teachers are human too!”  As a yoga teacher it is my intention to mirror my own commitment to authenticity, balance and self-study so that students have permission to walk their individual paths and let their inner teacher light the way.  All teachers will inevitably make mistakes both in and outside the classroom; this is part of being human.  But being human isn’t a loophole.  We must take responsibility for our thoughts, decisions, words, and actions.

And so I did.  There was a part of me that wanted to avoid the studio and my classes but I hobbled in, sat myself down, crutches and all, and taught anyway.  The mutual learning that resulted was immediately obvious.  I found that I was rather attached to practicing along with my students and that they in turn were attached to me showing them.  Not only was this an unwise practice for the longevity of my teaching career, but it prevented students from learning through their own experience and from one another.  Everybody is different and the importance of finding your own way into a pose became a central theme in my teaching.  I also realized the potential for comparison that arose out of my constant demonstrating and that my body perhaps wasn’t the most appropriate tool for learning.  Being stuck at the front of the studio I also saw how vague my instructions were and could continue to be when I was doing the postures along with the group.  The mindfulness involved in speaking clearly and succinctly while remembering a complex sequence is incredible.  Often I was more exhausted than if I had been practicing the entire time!  Lastly, I realized that by practicing while teaching I was unable to truly be there for the student.  I couldn’t see where they needed clarification or assistance and therefore couldn’t truly teach or teach responsibly. 

Ultimately, breaking my leg deepened my knowledge as a teacher and student of yoga.  When I finally got out of my cast, I learned an array of modifications that I can share when necessary.  I was given a small view into what it is like to being disabled and the experience left me with a profound respect and empathy for individuals permanently or temporarily handicapped.  Two years latter I am still digesting and healing from the experience.  Balance in all its manifestations is something I strive to maintain in my life.