The Case for Vinyasa
My 11-year-old niece is an accomplished figure skater. The type of person that, when you watch her in her element, it’s apparent her feet were born to be in skates. Sometimes I’ll sit in on her practices and I get to see the other girls at the ice house working on their routines. It’ll be a flurry of activity on the ice, but when one girl stops in the middle and the beginning notes of her song come on, the mood shifts and all eyes are on her. Along with my niece, one girl in particular always moves me to tears. She’s older than my niece, probably a junior or senior in high school. I know nothing about her. But what I see every time she skates is her passion. She isn’t just skating. She’s expressing herself, she’s feeling, she’s embodied and present and emotive and in a total state of flow. When I watch her skate, I feel like I’m seeing all the times she’s laced up her skates, all the times she has fallen, all the tears of frustration, the elation from nailing a certain jump. I’m seeing her years of devotion all culminating in that particular practice. I’m moved by her dedication, her fierce love for something, her ability to get up every single day and go to work solely because she loves it.
One particular practice, as I watched in awe of my niece, I wondered what I had in my life that could be similar. And I immediately surveyed the thousands of times I have unfurled my yoga mat. My first practice, which I hated. The first teacher I found that I loved. The first time I nailed Eka Pada Koundinyasa II into Chaturanga. My first headstand in the middle of the room. Tears crawling down my temples when I’d lay in savasana during my divorce. When I managed a yoga studio, I lived for the times I’d roll out my mat when no one was there. I’d put my music on too loud and would mooooove my body. A big, bold, flow brings me alive. It feels like a dance that only my body knows. It took me years to experience my practice in this way. Years to trust my body and feel confident in what I was doing and have a stockpile of poses and transitions that I could pull from on my mat, alone. Something straight up magical happens for me on that little 2’x6’ rectangle. Just me, my body, my breath, my thoughts. The quiet space where I can hear the whispers in my mind, the whispers from my body. It’s where I sort through and process my feelings, my desires, my pent up emotions.
But, of course, everything has a shadow. The dark side of the passion. The figure skater who can easily miss a landing and twist an ankle. The singer who strains her vocal chords after too many shows. When I practice yoga too often, my old shoulder issues flare up, my left hip feels impinged, my left hamstring attachment aches. A simple google search on the dangers of yoga will tell you that the practice is imbalanced. And it is. Especially in an Ashtanga/Vinyasa practice, the movements are repetitive. An abundance of forward folds overly stretch the hamstrings, a boatload of Chaturangas neglect any pulling motions, and the constant focus on elongation of the spine exaggerates extension. Coupled with outdated cues like trying to disengage the glutes while in hip extension in bridge or stabilizing the pelvis while in rotation or trying not to extend the lumbar spine while in camel (how is it possible?!) can cause us more harm than good. There are reasons these common cues developed, but when used without explaining the why behind it, when used without offering a counter cue or educating students on the biomechanics of the body, we are perpetuating the imbalance that the practice can create.
When I took my first training in 2007, my teacher trainer posed the question, “Is yoga enough?” In the traditional Ashtanga practice of Mysore, a 6-days-a-week practice of the same sequence every single day, would that be enough to keep the body balanced, strong, capable, and mobile? There is no doubt yoga can create strength in certain ways. But is it creating strength for the heart? Are the small cardiovascular parts of it enough? Is it creating strength for the posterior chain? Is it creating flexibility and mobility in all ways? Or just some?
Since the days of Krishnamacharya in the early 1900’s, the founder of vinyasa yoga as we know it today, we have learned so much about the body. And our western lifestyles and daily physical habits and patterns have changed drastically. It makes sense that our practice of physical fitness would change as well. The last several years we’ve seen a near boycott of traditional Vinyasa, challenging the safety of the practice, the longevity of it, and moving in favor of mobility and strength-based exercises that create balanced strength and range of motion. I am 100% on board with that and I still love a classic Vinyasa practice. I personally don’t think yoga is enough. If the goal is to remain functionally fit as we age, staying as mobile as we can, then the goal should be to train our body in a variety of ways so we are prepared for what life throws our way. Having a healthy heart, a strong body, mobile joints, and a sound mind seem like the goal to me. And we can create that in so many ways. I love to lift weights at the gym, hike and paddle outside, practice Pilates on the Reformer in my basement, take a mobility class weekly, jump rope and cycle. And roll out my yoga mat.
While there’s no replacement for feels-like-my-heart-will-bust-out-of-my-chest sprints or can’t-sit-on-the-toilet soreness from heavy squats, there is still a strong case for making a Vinyasa practice a regular part of your life, and here it is: no other practice offers the same mind-body connection that we’re granted on our mats. No other practice weaves in the healing power of breathwork, the stimulation of the vagus nerve for a more harmonious nervous system, the mental grit needed to endure long holds in certain postures or complex poses that require our full attention to even attempt, let alone find balance in. No practice instills the chasing of the present moment like our yoga mat does. No other modality weaves in intentional rest at the end, the encouragement to listen to our thoughts and treat our bodies kindly. No other modality includes an entire world of practice that isn’t even physical—the philosophical, energetic, and subtle anatomy side that makes yoga a lifestyle and not just something we physically do. While I love nothing more than to roll my mat out for that big, bold flow with loud music and challenging poses, I more so love that yoga has gifted me resilience, coping skills, moments of reflection, tenacity, discipline, and the deepest connection to myself. That is something I will forever roll my mat out for. A practice I can hold onto until the day I die.
Hi, I’m Jenna.
A yoga instructor, trained pastry chef, major book nerd, and former graphic designer. I have a zest for life and am passionate about continuously upleveling my growth – and bringing others along for the ride. My aim is to guide individuals in discovering themselves fully so they can walk through the world
100% self expressed.
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