Feeling inflexible but doing yoga anyway
It took me years to turn up to a yoga class.
Years and years of liking the idea of yoga before actually appearing on a yoga mat.
Why?
Whenever I confessed I’d never done a yoga class; I’d always append the confession with – I’m not flexible enough.
Never have been.
I got dropped from the gymnastics club at the age of eight because I couldn’t reach my toes. I could do handstands, I could vault, I could balance on the beam, but I couldn’t touch my toes.
Perhaps there was a trajectory right there; I threw myself into running and cycling and other ‘flexibility not required’ activities. I withdrew from stretching because of the awkward shape my body took when reaching for those ten toes, and I most certainly did not dance the limbo – how low can you go!
My body was tight, and I reasoned, yoga just wasn’t meant for me.
I appreciate ‘reasoned’ is probably an illogical choice of word, but it turns out this ‘reason’ is pretty pervasive in yoga-ain’t-for-me circles.
And a very common response to such an excuse goes something along the lines of this:
That’s like saying that you can’t go grocery shopping because you don’t have anything in your cupboards. Or your teeth are too dirty to brush.
Flexibility is a product of yoga, not a prerequisite.
The illogical nature of this excuse is worth exploring, because I’m sure others, like me, don’t intend on being illogical.
It’s more likely that we know, without a doubt, we’re not going to measure up to the body ideals that yoga throws in our path.
I appreciate this may be my bag here, but I have genuine admiration for a plump body that displays ease and softness. This still fits into my yoga-ideal.
But when I see a stiff body, gangly or otherwise, trying so hard to stretch into something that body isn’t capable of doing, I feel… sorry for them.
And me.
I ask myself; do we fit in to the yoga scene?
Alienating myself from a practice that I know will give me so many benefits started to make sense when I read a post by Marianne Elliot last year on her blog. She writes about body shame.
…for most of the women I know and most of the people who come to my classes, I’m aware that yoga can all too easily become simply another place in which to beat ourselves up about the inadequacies of our bodies
Of course, I didn’t know that when I was actively avoiding yoga, but, simply put, I was avoiding another way of shaming myself.
Turning up to a yoga class, scared stiff
Even though I was steering clear of yoga, my circle of friends got thicker and thicker with yogis and yoginis. Some part of me was drawn to the counter-culture yogic lifestyle, but, sadly, I lacked the flexible body-type I thought I needed to participate in it.
One day, a friend in a similar space to me, suggested we support each other in our first ever yoga class. Knowing that I’d have at least one ally, I agreed to the class.
We stood at the back and followed along as best we could.
Now I was a reasonably fit person at that point, but this class busted me. Even in the warm ups of bending forward to release our back and then hang there, my thighs screamed out. I could see other students flopping into this posture while I had to hold the position. There was no suppleness in my back, my thighs were tight and my calf muscles were crying.
I was working way harder than everyone else. I was running a marathon. These guys were … sunbathing!
My friend and I didn’t go back. We’d been fairly light-hearted throughout the class, getting giggles as we struggled through even more ridiculous postures. But enjoyable at a body level? Nop; that wasn’t our experience. Not only did I feel I lacked the flexibility for yoga, I now believed I lacked the strength and fitness as well.
I had periodic skirmishes with the yoga mat over the next few years but there was no juice to my commitment. More often than not, I talked myself out of attending a class. I simply didn’t enjoy how much my body hurt as I held a posture, nor ravished the idea of being next to an amazing example of flexibility.
And all the while I KNEW that if I kept turning up to yoga classes, I could become one of those flexible bodies.
I needed a motivation that was more aligned with my lifestyle and values.
Why can’t I commit to a practice that will give me the body I want?
I think if I’m honest with that question, creating the body I want has never been a good enough motivation for me.
Oh for many reasons; there’s too much striving in that little statement. I felt worn out just picking up the idea, let alone the practice. The goal post was too far away and I felt defeated before I began.
Even today, after several years of practicing yoga regularly, the motivation to ‘create the body I want’ causes such a heavy energy to descend on me that I literally end up crawling off my yoga mat defeated and depressed. Aspiring to a body ideal is the least motivating sentiment I’ve ever encountered, and one that, personally, I can’t work with.
Finding my motivation to practice yoga
My motivation to practice yoga arrived in due course. I’d just completed my first ever silent retreat with the meditation group Art of Living. I’d sat on the floor for the five days of meditation and satsang, and by the end, I was neck, shoulders, spine, hips, butt, knees and ankles, full body s-o-r-e!
In love with meditation, yet not in love with my body. I dedicated a new willingness to practice yoga.
For the sake of alleviating the physical discomfort while meditating I would commit to practicing yoga.
At about that time, a gentle yoga class started up at my work that had a playful approach to postures, sometimes crawling around on the floor like a toddler, holding our feet like an infant, breathing slowly with matching limb articulations and so on.
It didn’t really feel like ‘real yoga’ to me – I wasn’t working hard and we didn’t often do any classical looking asanas either. I kept on coming back to the class though, something soft was coming through and it made me feel good.
These quirky classes of a half dozen or so colleagues (brilliant scientists as it happened) helped me to get over myself and the ideas I had about what yoga ought to look like, and more importantly, what I thought I ought to look like doing yoga.
That admission alone changed my attitude to yoga. I started enjoying it. I started enjoying me doing yoga.
I wanted to commit to a yoga practice that would give me ease.
With growing confidence, I let myself experience a real yoga studio. I chose a couple of classes with teachers highly recommended by friends; they use words like ‘allowing’ and ‘what’s available to you today’ I was told. And they play music. I booked myself in.
I went to yoga classes that encouraged me to pay attention particularly to alignment and to keeping integrity within the confines of my body.
I began taking pride in not pushing myself into ridiculous stretches despite the deep stretch of the person next to me. And I began to foster a dialog between me and my breath that would become my cue to self-adjust in my own personal practice.
In essence, I became curious.
Given my still limited range of movement when opening in to a posture, I was quite naturally drawn and attuning to the subtleties of the practice. I became curious; when did a posture feel like it was flowing? Finding adjustments to suit my body became my thing. Feeling light and buoyant became the ‘stretch’.
I entered into an exploration of my body and the practice. I questioned what was happening when I felt heavy and burdened; was I actually holding when I could in fact be relaxing into that space?
This question was important because as a self-identified stiff-bodied person, I’d forgotten that my body was capable of finding a bit more space for exploration. One day I spontaneously relaxed in down-ward facing dog, and my heels literally dropped a centimeter or two towards the floor. I almost yelped in surprise.
Learning to soften.
I couldn’t help but feel the joy of those tiny signs – my body was learning to soften.
I yearned for a soft body; in fact I had dreams where my feet were touching the ground in downward facing dog. It felt so visceral, like my body knew what that sensation was like. I felt compelled to stretch myself.
For about 6 months I went to the yin classes at Hot Yoga. The heat in my body meant that I could move further into postures, and for awhile there, I started orientating my practice towards those sorts of accomplishments; awesome! I can get my forehead to the floor in pigeon. I stopped going when a friend I’d brought along to the class hurt her neck doing an unsafe shoulder stand.
I realised, without correct instruction, I could be pulling off moves that my body wasn’t necessarily equipped to handle. I felt at some level, that I’d started to take short-cuts, in order to get results.
So I returned to my basics. Given that what was available to my body was often the first variation, I had more time than others to explore that one posture. And I had more time than others to tame the mind.
Learning the essence of yoga.
I remember, after a monumental heartbreak one day, I turned up to a yoga class determined not to torture my experience with my grief-laden mind. For that whole practice – given the wild chop of emotions off the mat – I gave every ounce of my attention to being on the mat. To being totally present to that practice.
And I did it. Every time my attention slipped off the mat, I could feel the crashing grief right at my doorstep. This became a useful gate-keeper to pulling my attention back on to the mat.
While I don’t advocate resisting emotions in that way, it sure was a useful first step in experiencing the domain of mind and suffering versus being present and finding peace.
These conscious moments are what keep me coming back to yoga.
Feeling my body soften is a slow process, and compounded by me turning of an age where my body has naturally started to stiffen again, the effects of the practice on my body flexibility are subtle to notice. Perhaps this is the nature of form /substance /material /earth.
The more malleable element of air, or mind, however is providing a swifter window into the flexibility I have gained in my life.
In the course of my practice, I often experience an aligned mind. A buoyant mind. A light mind. A soft mind. An easy mind. And yes, a flexible mind.
For myself, I needed to find the motivation that could steer me past my body issues in order to give yoga a fair chance. Focusing on perfecting the body amplified my lack of worthiness.
Focusing on enjoying my experience by quieting my mind provided a natural incentive for me to turn up to class again, and again, and keep going.
A wise teacher once said:
‘Its not about touching your toes, but about what you learn about yourself on the way down’.
I agree!
I would be interested to know…
If you’re inflexible – like me – what helped you to give yoga a try? What kept you going back for more?
And if you’re a yoga teacher; how would you respond to someone who says “I’m not flexible enough to do yoga”?
Editor’s Note: That photo is Kara-Leah circa 2005.
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About Alys Titchener
Thanks Alys, for this openhearted exploration.
‘Its not about touching your toes, but about what you learn about yourself on the way down’.
So true, I hope I give that message to my students. And funny enough that message only really started to dawn on me after a 10-day silent Vipassana retreat.
In fact, I think not-so-flexible people might just have an advantage when it comes to quieting the mind. They get to practice sooner. Whereas the flexible ones need to put themselves in a double pretzel before having to deal with mental discomfort.
Thanks Merel. Yeah I can imagine a 10 day vipassana retreat might whip the ease out of even the most flexible body… thou I’m curious… does a still body beget a still mind? Thanks for sharing. xx
Oh My goodness – did I write that in some weird future parallel Universe? I have always been a gangly but stiff and inflexible type. Now Im 50, I’m a bit heavier but still stiff and inflexible and it was getting worse. But i’m finally old enough to not care – but what helps me really not care, is Jude Mahood in Dunedin.
I have been attending her classes for about 6 weeks now. I hate to miss!! She is just so polite but encouraging about my inflexibility and uses terms like “what’s available to you today.” So I’m allowed to be stiff and inflexible but most importantly patient with my body.
And what is most important, is that I’m noticing change already. My shoulder pain is all but gone already. I can turn my neck further to pull out of a parking spot. I can bend to paint my toenails more easily! I’m sold. And… after reading this, who knows I might be teaching yoga in the rest home in 30 years.
oh I LOVE the idea of you teaching yoga in a rest home in 30 years time.
I agree that having the right teacher and teaching ethos is the ‘make or break’ to committing to a yoga practice at the start. Glad to hear there are tangible affects for you and your body with your yoga practice. Thanks for sharing!! xx
I am so glad I found this web site.
Contrary to the inflexibility situation of your and previous posters, I am 71 y.o. Male, Fat and I tire easily, but I am able to bend more than other senior citizens.
However, I never could imagine myself going through all those contortions!
However, I WANT TO MAKE THE EFFORT to achieve some healthy level that is safe and beneficial to my body and mind.
I live in Seattle, in the state of Washington, USA.
Would you have any advise as to where you could refer me, in my town, to get medically & sane directions to start yoga.
thank you. Your article motivated me to inquire further.
jean-claude, you’ll probably get much better suggestions from others, but just for the meanwhile, i’d suggest seeing if silversneakers offers classes in your area, they’d have yoga and functional fitness type classes, both would specifically address issues for a senior
my wife and i teach senior and deconditioned adults yoga and fitness classes, and just having an instructor familiar with senior issues would be enough to give you a good class
so i’d also call any of the y’s, and also the big fitness chains, and of course any senior centers
often people who teach at studios etc that teach seniors, also teach at these other locations
finally, strongerseniors.com has a fantastic array of dvd’s, including for yoga; i’ve got reviews of some of the dvds on my site, and of some of what silversneakers offers
if you feel inclined, my posts on teaching (learning from) limitations, and on the good things about getting old(er) might help
but the best thing in your favor, in my opinion, is your desire to be healthier and happier, and in a SAFE manner
best wishes to you, take care,
adan
Hey Adan,
I was going to ask if you could reply to Jean-Claude… but you beat me to it. Thank you for such an informative comment, really appreciate it!
Blessings,
KL
Hey Aly,
I love this article. I too was a totally inflexible yoga student and yoga teacher. I’m still not that bendy as far as yoga teachers go… but man I’ve come a long way.
When I first started yoga I couldn’t even bend forward and touch my KNEES let along my toes! True! I used to have dreams back then of bending forward and being able to SEE my kness… lo and behold, ten years later, I CAN see my knees (and touch my toes) when I bend forward.
Now I have delicious dreams about effortless folding into a compact seated forward bend – melting belly on to thighs, forehead on to shins. Give me another few years, and I’ll be there.
Dream yoga rocks!
Hey KL. I can’t tell you how encouraging that is to hear!!! Yeah, go the dream-yoga!
Hi.
I really would like to learn dream yoga. May I ask where I could learn it in Auckland?
Cheers
Andy
Hey Andy,
I’ve no idea, but have posted a comment on the Yoga Lunchbox facebook page so watch the page to see if anyone responds.
as a teacher, i do run into this issue with new students (or people who are curious but afraid to try). i tell them that yoga helps develop flexibility over time, and that it’s different for everyone. the main thing is that you show up and honor your body where it is right now.
i end my classes with “honor yourself for having come here today” because it *is* a big deal. when we do yoga — no matter what form, or how often, or how “well” we think we do it — we are dedicating ourselves to being deeply present with ourselves in that moment, just as we are.
for many of us, the level of acceptance required is difficult. that’s the real ‘challenge’ of yoga — can i accept who and what i am right now, without striving to be something else or shaming myself for being who and what i am?
i was speaking to a new student of mine last night. she says she loves yoga, but it’s so different than anything else she’s ever done. she’s “scared” before coming to class. she’s not sure what’s going to happen that day, what will be easy, what will be difficult, what’s going to “come up” for her. it is scary, and so, at the end of class, she does acknowledge the effort that she put forth in coming — in facing her fear and facing herself in those moments.
she said to me, “you know, yoga is really a mental game, isn’t it? yes, it has physical benefits, but really, it’s about the mind — how we talk about ourselves in our head, the stories we tell ourselves about who we are. when you’re in the pose, or in meditation, you just are. and you’re either going to fight that or accept it. i’m learning to accept it.”
Thanks Jenifer for your post, I love what you said about turning up to yoga: “we are dedicating ourselves to being deeply present with ourselves in that moment, just as we are”. Yes I can see it as a journey into self acceptance, which perhaps explains why striving for the body I want could never sustain my motivation to turn up. I love what your student said; “yoga is really a mental game isn’t it… how we talk to ourselves in our head” So true, so true. Thanks for sharing. xx
A quote from Sw. Satyananda Saraswati that I just read that seems to fit with this discussion:
Namaste P
Beautiful!!! xx
wow, what a great article, so much to it, loved, “Finding adjustments to suit my body became my thing. Feeling light and buoyant became the ‘stretch’.”
you’re the kind of person i want in my class
i myself am not in the flexible half of the spectrum, though i’m working my way to my own mid point
i think, i’ll try, by way of my own example, to say how i handle the “flexiy” question in class, please bear in mind, this is very much “in progress”
i hear “i’m not flexible enough” all the time!
my yoga classes are super beginner classes, for both the students and myself
the answers i give are :
1) no matter your range of motion / flexibility, doing it to “your” capacity will do you the same amt of good as someone else who, with greater range, goes to “their” capacity
then i show them this :
2) a) i turn so my back faces the person or group, and reach to touch my hands behind my back, right hand over my shoulder first, with left hand reaching up
b) i say, “i have mild scoliosis” or “this is where i reach”
c) i repeat the reach reversing hands, left hand over shoulder, with right hand reaching up
d) i ask if they notice any difference (i’m cheating of course, since i know there’s about a 6 inch gap differenc)
e) i ask, should i break my shoulder or wrist to reach as far as my other side? nooooo
f) is it worth my holding the pose on each side, or should i just do the good one?
i point out that i still get joint compression on each side (which is like comparing oneself to another person), each joint gets synovial fluid, bone growth potential; each side’s muscles get stretched and strengthened, and much more
from there, it’s individuated class discussion / doing, depending on who’s in class that day
obviously, we are all mostly asymmetrical, so it’s not hard finding a disparity, then demo-ing, then asking something similar
i’m sure there’s a school of yoga and individuals doing something like this, i’m just so new to the teaching angle, i’m just not currently aware of it, but this has just worked for me
be interesting to hear the other various replies to this, i almost always learn something new that way
thanks so much alys
ps – glad you opted for the more “safe” route
wow Adan, that’s such a wonderful response … to offer your own body as a demonstration is the most inclusive response I’ve heard to that question. I think it’s great when a teacher can illustrate compassion through their own experience, and the nature of asymmetrical bodies, as you say, is a very accessible way of illustrating how silly it is to neglect one side of the body simply because it is stiffer than the other side. Brilliant!
Your classes sound very caring and safe. Thanks for sharing! xx
Hi Alys,
Your article definitely brings more faith & beilef in your practice & your self! I practiced Yoga extensively & everyday while I lived in India …was very flexible & soft at that time. 30 years after I decided to come back to it. Then last year I decided to go through a teacher training that would further help me understand & teach.. I am a montessori teacher & have been teaching Yoga to my students & saw the benefits of the practice for them & myself. The teacher training kicked my butt & I fought & worked even harder to be at the same level as the rest of the class. ( of course at my age & weight it did not happen) My mentor could have streamlined the regime that would have eased & fit my body into a practice that would have transitioned for me. So I was then determined to find myself for myself & did a lot of my own research & rescue. Needless to say I am more grounded & certainly more flexible.
My journey continues & I look fwd to teaching yoga for what yoga shld bring to the atman
Shanti Kalpana .