Listening To Your Body

I get injured a lot. One of my friends told me that I don’t treat my body as a temple, so much as a piece of equipment. Some of my injuries are chronic. Some of my injuries are the result of unforeseeable accidents. But with many of them, I can trace parts back to me ignoring signs from my body. 

What does it mean to listen to your body? It’s common advice, even more common in the parlance of yoga. In my experience it comes down to this: first the body will whisper, and then it will shout.

Yoga has been an invaluable teacher in how to observe the body, and how to manage its function. It is helpful no matter how much you do, or at what level you engage with it. I recommend it with my full blessing, and aspire to practise for the rest of my life. But I’ll tell you another truth: a good portion of my injuries have occurred during yoga. And for this I don’t fault the system, but my own follies. Here are a few of my realisations:

It is possible to be too invested in a pose. We may get too attached to the effects or to feelings of its expression. It took me 9 years to get into padmasana, and once I’d reached it, I thought it was like salt, something to be added to every meal. One early morning practise, I went up into shoulder-stand, pulled my disagreeing legs into padmasana, and *pop*, something moved in my left-knee. Humble pie for breakfast for my breach of asteya (the yama of non-stealing).

It’s possible to underdo it. It’s also possible to overdo it. When you are in your early years of yoga, a lot of progression comes from zealous energy (tapas) as we reform the body. Many of my yoga injuries have come from me forcing myself into positions (in breach of ahimsa - the yama of non-violence). In general for all activities, from tennis to piano, beginners underdo it and intermediates overdo it. For the beginners: generate and ride that zeal, it will carry you through the flats. For those progressing, integrate and refine. Clean up your edges. Channel energy through the correct paths.

Everything off the mat affects what you can do on the mat. From small things, like the time of the day (I am notoriously stiff in the mornings), through to larger things like your diet, your job, and your relationships. An evolving yoga practise will naturally lead to you making some decisions about your lifestyle. Early on in my yoga journey, I came to class after having a couple of glasses of wine at lunch. It was a horrible experience that I’ve never repeated, and led to a simple rule: nothing to drink before class. These smaller actions will beget larger actions too.

Another realisation about injuries is their silver-lining. In the end, they make you a wiser practitioner. How else do you learn but through experience? I’m not saying that I’d want to go through any of my injuries again, but learning how to manage them has made me a better teacher and a better practitioner. As well as a very grateful person for my health!

I don’t wish any injuries for you, but I think it's naive to think that we’ll go through life untroubled. BKS Iyengar is quoted as saying: 

‘Yoga teaches us to cure what need not be endured and endure what cannot be cured.”

I suppose above all, I wish for your grace and dedication to the practise. Yoga has been fantastic for me, confronting in some ways, and regularly humbling in a way that is always positive. I suppose this is what it means to be on a journey of self-understanding, and I am grateful to those who have guided me down this path.