Yoga Every Day

When people learn that I practice yoga, they don't ask where or with whom or what style. For reasons I can't begin to fathom, the question has always been, "How often do you practice?"

My response is "Every day."

I get a few skeptical looks, some quirked eyebrows, and a comment akin to "Suuuuuuure you do" every now and then. But it's the truth: yoga is a part of my everyday life.

This doesn't mean that I structure my schedule so I can attend a 60- or 90-minute class every day. It doesn't even mean that, at some point during my waking hours, I spend an hour or so each day on my studio's mats doing my own personal practice or in front of our television following along with one of my favorite yoga DVDs (although my husband undoubtedly begs to differ). Then how is yoga part of my daily existence?

Simple: yoga is much, much more than a series of poses (asana).

Poses are what immediately come to mind when the general populace thinks of yoga. Even a vast multitude of yoga practitioners believe that yoga is an hour of flexing and stretching the body in a variety of contortionistic poses. After 40 years of practicing yoga, my body naturally settles on an asana while doing the mundane: Vrksasana (tree pose) in the kitchen while preparing a meal, Sukhasana (simple cross-legged pose) while at the dinner table, Virasana (hero pose) while at my desk (such as right now, as I type this). So, yes, in a sense, I incorporate the physical aspects of yoga into my everyday life this way, sometimes for hours as I work at my computer, shifting from Virasana to Bhujrasana (lightning pose) to Sukhasana and back.

Writing this blog entry in Virasana.

But I also practice yoga when someone wrongs me and I let it go. The teenager that swooped into the parking spot for which I'd been signaling? The woman talking nonstop on her cell phone who cut ahead of me at the check-out line? While I might be sorely tempted to react negatively to their negativity, I do my best to practice the Yama (behavioral restraint) of Ahimsa, non violence. Often, I find myself practicing the Niyama (behavioral observance) of Svadhyaya (self study) soon afterwards ("Why did their actions anger me so much? Was that parking spot that important?").

There are five Yamas and five Niyamas that guide a yogi towards both living more ethically and molding a better social community. These may very well be the most difficult aspect of yoga to incorporate into one's life, especially in this day of modern conveniences, overflowing supermarket choices, and technological breakthroughs (which make practicing Aparigraha, the Yama of non attachment, Brahmacharya, the Yama of moderation, and Tapas, the Niyama of austerity, quite a challenge). Others, such as Satya, the Yama of truthfulness, and Santosha, the Niyama of contentment, come as naturally as breathing. Take a look around you. Yes, you might have dusty furniture, dishes that need washing, baskets of laundry to fold, and a toy or two underfoot, but this also means you have a roof over your head, food on your table, clothing on your back, and family around you. That is the truth of your life, and you are fortunate to have so much when others do not. Be content.

Pratyahara is another branch of yoga that I try to incorporate into my daily life. In Pratyahara, one allows the mind to settle instead of being jangled to alertness by sensory distractions. The neighbor's dog that barks all night long? Ignore it. The music blaring from a colleague's cubicle while you're trying to complete an assignment? Shut it out. The TV show your spouse is watching in bed while you're trying to fall asleep? Be blind to it. Seventeen people are waiting for your next move in Words with Friends? Let them wait. Don't allow these disturbances to derail you from reaching your goal, whether it's getting a project done before lunch or getting a good night's sleep.

But Pratyahara is more than closing your senses. It's also closing your mind to other people's perceptions, beliefs, and ideas, especially the negative. Your coach tells you you're never going to make it out of junior varsity? Do your best to prove him or her wrong. Your mother criticizes you yet again for the way you're raising your children? Believe in yourself and let her disapproval bounce off you. You overhear your supervisor comment unfavorably about your work performance, attributing it to your gender, your religious beliefs, your age, your ethnicity or race, or some other personal characteristic? Let the comment go in one ear and out the other (and contact your workplace's EEOC officer... and practice Ahimsa, the Yama of non violence). It has taken years for me to develop my Pratyahara practice, training myself to smile, nod, and not take to heart comments from elder family members about my employment choices (yes, I have a Master's degree and yes, I do write numerous freelance articles each year, but I am happy not being confined to an editorial office and I am content (there is that Santosha again!) working as a fitness instructor and managing a farm full of chickens).

Pratyahara goes hand in hand with Dharana, the practice of concentration. One would think that this comes easily once the distractions have disappeared, and often, it does. Sometimes, though, one has to really work on focus. One of my current projects is color coding asana according to level of difficulty (green for beginners, yellow for intermediate, red for advanced) and type (pink for prone, red for supine, neon yellow for inversions, orange for standing, blue for twists, etc.). With true focus, I would have had this done in a day or two. But no, I find myself hitting the mat to try every twist, inversion, and arm balance as soon as I have written up its card. I've obviously got some work to do with Dharana.

Dhyana refreshes you mentally.

On the other hand, I've rarely had any difficulty fitting Dhyana, the practice of meditation, into my life. I fondly remember my first meditation book, a little blue checkout-line special entitled "Transcendental Meditation" that I bought with my lunch money when I was 11. I set up a meditation space in my closet, complete with an altar (an empty shoebox draped with a white handkerchief), fruit, flowers, and stick incense I'd bought at Spencer's Gifts at the local strip mall. I'd sit in Sukhasana in that little space twice daily for a half hour, chanting Om over and over. I'm sure my mother would have thought I was nuts had she ever caught me. These days, I don't have an assigned meditation space and I certainly don't have offerings of flora or incense on an altar. I can meditate anywhere: on a mat, on the floor, in a chair, on my bed. I focus on one specific point of attention and let my mind start unraveling the puzzle I've presented: what could I have possibly done to make my lower back ache? What is the best way to phrase this thought for the article I'm writing? What vegetables should we plant in our garden this year? Before I know it, a half hour has passed — sometimes more — and I return to my regularly scheduled life much refreshed mentally.

Do I feel enlightened by any of these yogic practices? No, not really. There is quite a lot about myself that I have yet to uncover and discover and quite a way to go before I would even consider that I have reached the point of self realization or enlightenment (Samadhi). It's something I do strive for. There are days, however, when it seems fate just wants to throw chaos my way and when life seems to spin completely out of control. On days like these, just remembering to breathe, and breathe well, is about as much as I can manage. Pranayama (yogic breathing exercises) helps center me as I focus on breathing deeply, expanding my rib cage, drawing that breath into my upper back, then releasing it all back out. I often employ Pranayama when I run, both for exercise and competitively, as a means of stabilizing my breathing and expanding my energy throughout my body. Prana means life force and, when I am overwhelmed with assignments, chores, sick kids, and a never-ending to-do list, breathing deeply and focusing my life force is how I practice yoga that day.

If you take a minute to reflect, a moment for Dhyana, you'll find that yoga is a part of your everyday life as well.