Most people sleep without resolving their tensions,
This is termed nidra.
Nidra means sleep, no matter what or why,
But yoga nidra means sleep after throwing off the burdens,
It is of a blissful, higher quality altogether.–Swami Satyananda Saraswati (1)
Tiruvannamalai, India, 2009
I find myself at The Singing Heart ashram in a country I never wanted to visit a day in my life. I don’t handle crowds or extreme heat very well and India is the land of both. I ended up here as a result of a long string of bizarre coincidences that I still cannot understand. With the exception of my teacher, Felicia Pavlovic of Yoga Therapy Toronto (YTT), I didn’t know a soul. The group was comprised of recent graduates of YTT’s teacher training program along with participants from India and a few strays, like myself, mixed in. Our days were simple and rigorous–get up every day before the sun, practice yoga, complete your assigned chores, spend the day learning about meditation and yoga, eat, socialize, etc., but it was what we did in the evening that had me the most baffled and intrigued. The second night, after we had settled in, we were instructed, after dinner, to prepare for yoga nidra. We were to wash up, get ready for bed and come to the meditation hall in our pyjamas. There was to be as little disruption as possible after the session; we were to quietly go back to our rooms and immediately to go bed. I was suspicious while my travelling companions almost hooted with joy; clearly they knew about this yoga nidra stuff and they liked it.
It wasn’t a mad rush to the meditation hall after dinner since there isn’t much mad rushing happening at an ashram, but my companions were certainly eager to get going. Inside the hall, candles were lit and everything was pushed aside, leaving an open, central space for us to lie in. We were instructed to remain still for the duration of the practice and to follow Felicia’s voice as she guided us through the process. No problem. That I could do. And we were to remain fully awake. Hm…now that part was questionable.
Soon Felicia had us moving through and identifying body parts. She had us visualizing detailed scenarios. There was a rapid succession of images presented to us that we were to imagine to the best of our abilities. None of it made any sense to me. What was the importance of my right hand thumb? Where was visualizing a trip up a mountain going to lead me? Why a dark, starry night and a white, sandy beach?
It wasn’t possible for me to fall asleep that first time I experienced yoga nidra; I was too involved in questioning what was going on. But that night? That night I had the best sleep in years. A long-time sufferer of insomnia, I knew that if this was some of what yoga nidra had to offer, I wanted more. The following night and every night we practiced thereafter, I charged my way to the meditation hall like a football player, so I could find the “perfect” spot to settle in and move through the mysterious process of yoga nidra. I was hooked.
“Yoga nidra, which is derived from the tantras, is a powerful technique in which you learn to relax consciously…Yoga nidra is a systematic method of inducing complete physical, mental and emotional relaxation…During the practice of yoga nidra, one appears to be asleep, but the consciousness is functioning at a deeper level of awareness…In yoga nidra, the state of relaxation is reached by turning inwards, away from outer experiences.” (2)
In yoga nidra, we work through the three levels of tension: muscular, emotional and mental. Tension held on these levels creates strain, distraction and suffering in an individual. Using yoga nidra as a tool, we work through these tensions and the often unconscious material stored up that leads to the creation of these “knots”. As we work through the process, accessing, witnessing and then releasing emotionally charged and sometimes difficult material, we allow our personal energy to move more freely. Without these hindrances that sap our energy, we are able to relax fully which then allows us to live with greater vitality.
In a very practical way, yoga nidra has been used to assist people suffering from anxiety and depression, heart disease, memory issues, post-traumatic stress, insomnia and much more. It is becoming widely understood and accepted that chronic stress, something most of us face, creates disharmony in the human system which, over time, can lead to systemic breakdown and disease. Relaxation techniques that work to counteract the effects of stress are becoming more commonplace. Techniques like yoga nidra work on an even deeper level, striving to uncover the roots of chronic stress in an individual and to resolve the deeply held conflicts that work to create disharmony in the system. Yoga nidra, like so many of these techniques, is best understood when experienced; some things simply defy words.
I will admit it, I am a yoga nidra convert of the worst kind–I believe everyone should experience this transformative process. If yoga nidra sounds like something you would be interested in exploring, check with yoga studios in your area to see if they offer this practice. You can also find a variety of practices on iTunes, on Amazon, or by contacting me.
“Through the practice of yoga nidra, we are not only relaxing, but restructuring and reforming our whole personality from within. Like the mythological phoenix, with every session we are burning the old…habits and tendencies in order to be born anew.” (3)
May you love yourself enough to investigate things that hold the potential to help you unfurl your wings so you can fly. It is your birthright.
With the deepest of love, Namaste.
Tabitha
* (1) Saraswati, Swami Satyananda, ‘Yoga Nidra’, Yoga Publications Trust, 2009, p. 8.
(2) Ibid, p. 1.
(3) Ibid, p. 15.
Show Me the Belly
Posted in Commentary, Healing, inspiration, Self help, Women, tagged body image, healing, Inspiration, middle-aged women, Venus of Willendorf; The Hot Flash Trailer, women's issues on March 27, 2013 | Leave a Comment »
Venus of Willendorf
It was a scene all too familiar–me standing in a changeroom, fluorescent lights casting shadows in a most unappealing way, cringing at the sight of myself in the lilac-coloured t-shirt I was trying on. I could see rolls. I could see belly. I could see that I was no longer 16. I heaved a deep sigh and decided that I looked too grotesque in the t-shirt and needed to put it away.
The sales associate, an attractive, funky, fuller-figured woman asked me how it went. I could hear the whining in my voice as I explained how I couldn’t possibly purchase the t-shirt. ”I understand, hon,” she said. ”You’re having one of those days. You’re feeling depressed so nothing looks good.”
“No,” I replied, “I’m not depressed. I’m coming to terms with the fact that my body is not 16 any more and I’m having a hard time with it.”
“HONEY,” she said, loudly, “I’m 44!” And she spread her arms wide for all to see.
Damn, she looked good in her loose royal blue top, black leggings and high boots. There were curves there, and wrinkles, and, no doubt, her boobs would sneak down towards her waistline if she let them out of their sling, but she wore it all very well. She wore it with pride even though, as she confessed, she wasn’t feeling so hot about herself that day either.
Why do we, as women over 40, do this to ourselves?
Then I saw this trailer and it explained so much:
Middle-aged women really are invisible, aren’t we? TV is stocked with ads focusing on cute little baby girls, young women obsessed with buying the “right” tampon, and women over 50 who are smiling joyfully because their diapers held up when they pissed themselves in public, or they didn’t hoark their dentures into the birthday cake, thank you Poligrip! So where are we, the perimenopausal queens?
Oh, we’re there and we’re horrifying. Actresses whom I admired when I was a teenager, women not much older than I, are still showing themselves on the pages of magazines and on TV screens, but they’ve mangled themselves, all in the name of beauty and youthfulness. Blindingly white porcelain veneers, facial skin stretched tight like plastic wrap, lips Botoxed into life preserver status, and boobs packed full of things that just can’t be good for you. Yes, we, the middle-aged women, are the Frankenwomen, hacking ourselves to shreds so that we can go back in time, back to that 16 year old body.
Hate to tell ya, ladies, but it ain’t gonna happen. No amount of mangling yourself will ever make you 16 again. (I know. That’s a hard one to take.)
So then, again, why do we do it? I think it’s to be seen, to have a presence in this world, to be acknowledged again. I understand that. It’s horrible to feel like you don’t exist, like you could run down the street naked and on fire, and no one would see you. Feeling like a non-entity is a certain kind of torture, yes, but attempting to make your mark by playing into a demented, youth-oriented, culture that sexualizes women, and throws them away when their “worth” expires, is equally as demented. I say give it up.
Here’s the thing: We can’t change anyone’s mind about us, but we can change our own minds. Maybe the world refuses to recognize us but we can recognize ourselves. We’re never invisible when we can see ourselves.
This morning I had a fantasy about starting a project (I love my fantasy projects.) In this fantasy, I would issue an invite to middle-aged women everywhere to send me pictures of their soft, scarred bellies with rolls. Bellies that have held (and sometimes lost) babies. Bellies that have grown and shrunk, and grown and shrunk, from persistent dieting. Bellies that have undulated with laughter, and have folded in excruciating pain. Grown woman bellies, the houses of grown woman stories, for the world to see, and if not for the world, then, for ourselves. I think I would call it The Belly Project. :)
Here’s my middle-aged belly:
And how about yours? Have you looked at yours? Have you seen it with eyes of love? Can you dare to? I pray that, some day, you do. I pray that, one day, I do too.
With much love from the full-bellied, middle-aged sisterhood,
(Chubby) Tabitha
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If you liked this, you might also enjoy reading:
“You’re gonna carry that weight…”
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