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    Different Ways of Turning Your World Upside Down

    Yesterday at the William Penn House class, we were emphasizing strong working of our tailbones.  One of the regular students came to class even though she was still exhausted from recent and sudden major loss and upheaval in her life.  She wanted to be with the spirit of the class even if she would not be able to do everything.

    When we went to the wall to work on half and full arm balance, I advised her to give it a try if she felt up to it and then said to do legs up the wall if she knew trying to hold the arm balance would be too much.  After all, I pointed out, legs up the wall (vipariti karani) is just half handstand upside down.  And what is awesome about both the poses is that the both turn us upside down (albeit in energetically different ways) and can thus help give us a fresh perspective on how we are in our bodies and minds.

  • How I Injured My Wrist (a Reminder)

    About a month ago, I strained the top of my hand near my wrist as I was moving from uttanasana–standing forward fold to adho mukha svanasana–downward facing dog. I was certain that I had placed my hand properly. I always place fingerpads down first and then ground my metacarpals, with the emphasis on the index finger metacarpal. My fingers were evenly spaced. It felt like perhaps I had jammed the bones or slightly dislocated them–the wrist/hand version of a sacrum “going out.”

    My initial reaction was to work harder, but it was not feeling any better. I resorted to resting for a few days and then concentrating on forearm balance instead of handstand.

    When I was at the weekend workshop in New Jersey last month, one of my friends suggested that I was working too hard. That was definitely on the right track. Once my hand was in place, though, what felt best was to work very strongly. During the first intermediate/advanced workshop, I was fortunate enough to be able to spend a few minutes with John Friend, who gave me an adjustment that rearranged the bones. This cleared most of the pain, but my hand was still extra sensitive.

    I found myself placing leaving my hands soft and placing them with great delicacy. Before going into weight-bearing I added the actions of clawing the fingerpads and drawing the thumb and index finger together, while making sure my metacarpals were firmly rooted. No pain.

    I went through this sequence of events with my Wednesday night group practice students yesterday. I showed them the difference between engaging strongly as the starting point of the hand alignment and sweetly touching, immediately followed by full engagement.

    “What principle of alignment had I been leaving out?” I asked. Without hesitation, they chorused in unison, “opening to grace.” Exactly right. Sometimes practicing the Anusara principle of “opening to grace” is subtle, but it always comes first and, in my experience over the past decade of study and practice, is always essential to have the most life-expanding and holistic of practices.

    Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

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    Praying Mantis (and pausing to make offering)

    This morning as I approached my office, I noticed in the middle of a wide patch of sidewalk that is flanked by the street on one side and a brick building on the other, with no tree boxes or other plantings for several yards in any direction, a praying mantis stranded in the middle.  I wondered how it had gotten there and worried that it would not survive if it was just stuck in a sea of concrete.

    I crouched and put out my finger.  The praying mantis crawled on to my hand.  I did not have time to go all the way back to the park next to the Capitol or to the nearest “island” with trees, but I took it to the nearest tree box, certain that there would be enough mosquitoes for it to eat well.  When I placed my hand next to the bush in the tree box and helped the praying mantis move onto the greenery, it first came back onto my hand again.  So I talked to it (as if it understood English) and encouraged it to get onto a branch (yes, I was getting some strange looks from passers by at this point).  I watched as the praying mantis eventually turned around and started moving into the denser foliage.

    With this act, did I make anything in the world better except give myself the joy of interacting with a wonderful being?  Does it matter?

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