Healthy Living Club

For the past two years, my yoga practice has been a deeply personal retreat from the world. I’m often uncomfortable even in small crowds, so I go to classes where I know I’ll encounter no more than a half dozen students. What I really love, though, is to practice by my bedroom’s bay windows, which overlook a lush city garden. With the scent of honeysuckle wafting in from below and green branches tapping against the glass, my oasis is inspiring, private, and secure.

But I knew there was a great big yoga community out there, one that I had yet to connect with. I’d often see yogis introducing themselves before class, making plans to meet for tea afterward, and encouraging each other to go further in their practice. “Hello” was about as far as I could ever get. A part of me was afraid that if I knew the people I practiced with, I would lose my inner focus. And yet I was beginning to feel like a hermit. Perhaps, suggested a co-worker one day, the next step in my evolution as a yogi was to make friends who would support my practice.

A few weeks later, I found myself taking the long, winding drive down Highway 1 from San Francisco toward Big Sur on California’s central coast. My destination was the annual yoga festival at the Esalen Institute, a place known for its transformative yoga retreats, more than 26 acres of beautiful coastline grounds, and (gulp) coed clothing-optional hot springs. And, yes, I was anxious.

Once there, though, I knew I had to commit fully to the experience: no hiding away in my room. I was here not only to practice in an intimate setting with great yogis—Seane Corn, Thomas Fortel, Shiva Rea, and Mark Whitwell—but also to connect with others. So after dropping off my bags and grabbing a quick bite in the dining room, I headed straight to the famous cliffside baths and stripped—fast. Look down. Plunge in. Stare straight ahead.

The hot mineral water soothed my aching muscles after the long drive, but it couldn’t ease my mind. Were people looking at me? Could I look at them? Had I remembered to shave? How could I cover as much as possible without looking as though I were trying to cover as much as possible? The entire time I was in the baths, my racing thoughts never let up. Tired of trying so hard to relax, I fled midway through a beautiful sunset that made the ocean waves shimmer red and gold. Still, I felt a sense of accomplishment. That, I thought, would surely be the scariest thing I’d have to do all week.

That night, the festival’s 175 attendees gathered inside a large yurt at the center of the property for kirtan, or devotional chanting, led by Bhagavan Das, an early influence in American kirtan. Brightly colored fabrics were draped around the room, and small altars with burning incense were scattered here and there, giving the place the look and feel of a bona fide festival.

Eye Contact

But before the music began, I had to find a seat. Everywhere I looked, people greeted each other with warm hugs and beaming smiles. Some clearly knew each other, but others didn’t, and it was surprising to see how quickly people seemed to feel a sense of connection.

As I scanned the dimly lit room for an empty corner, I felt a small tug at my left pant leg. “Been saving you a spot,” said a man sitting on the floor beside his partner. I accepted his invitation, and we settled into our places and introduced ourselves. Moments later, musician Joey Lugassey quieted the crowd and asked that we begin the evening by taking the time to look at the person next to us. This was to be not a glance, but a long, thoughtful gaze into a stranger’s eyes.

My neighbor who had asked me to sit with him had no problem with this. His warm eyes smiled patiently while I struggled to focus for more than a few seconds. Each time our eyes locked, I could not help but look away to his nose, ears, or graying eyebrows, hoping I could fake the exercise and no one would notice. My palms became clammy, and I could feel my cheeks flush. How was it that poses like Shoulderstand and Reclining Hero had never fazed me, while an intimate moment with a stranger made me feel like a failure as a yogini?

“It’s OK,” my neighbor said, squeezing my hand. “You’ll get it.”

By Lauren Ladoceour

The next morning, we split into smaller groups to begin our meditation and asana practice. Vinyasa instructor Shiva Rea started the day by setting up an altar to a variety of deities and spiritual teachers. The room, with floor-to-ceiling walls looking out on the sea, was wonderfully inspiring. As Rea lit incense and a small kirtan band readied their instruments to accompany the dance-flow practice, Rea asked that each of us find our guru. She didn’t necessarily mean a person: It could be any of the objects she had placed on the altar, or if we liked, it could be nature itself. I chose the ocean and turned my mat toward the fog just beginning to clear over the waves.

Letting Go

It was indeed an invigorating practice, one that began with our letting go of our inhibitions to dance and sway to the harmonium’s music. I moved from one pose to another using, as Rea suggested, the sound of the waves as my guide. And at the end, Rea announced that we would do our Savasana (Corpse Pose) in the hot springs.

A day earlier, I would have excused myself and sneaked back to my room to do Savasana alone and in peace. But Esalen and our heart-opening practice had already begun to work their magic on me. And so, with my focus turned inward, I calmly made my way to the changing room in silence with the others, folded my clothes in a neat stack, and then took a deep breath. When I came out, a group of five people waved me over to join their tub. They instructed me to lie in the water, back slightly arched in Savasana, while they held my head and legs. I closed my eyes and surrendered.

Floating there, bare-bottomed and bare-chested in front of all those unfamiliar bodies, I somehow found the trust to let go and lose myself in the experience. It wasn’t until someone squeezed my big toes that I came up, swept my wet hair to the side, and saw these perfect strangers smiling kindly at me. And then all I could do was look deep into their eyes.

Of the three doshas, pitta has the most in common with summer. Imagine a bubbling pot of steaming hot, sour, and spicy soup—that’s the nature of pitta. Made up of the primal elements fire (mainly) and water (secondarily), pitta has hot, oily, sharp, light, sour, fluid, and pungent attributes—many of the same sensory qualities that summer surrounds us with.

It’s a fundamental principle of Ayurveda that like increases like. In Ayurveda: Secrets of Healing (South Asia Books, 1998), Ayurvedic teacher and author Maya Tiwari writes, “The doshas are not simply the dynamic energy within the body; rather, they are influenced primarily by seasonal variations.” As summer heats up, we become prone to accumulating excess pitta. If we already possess a pitta prakriti (nature), we’re at an even higher risk of becoming out of balance.

Signs of pitta imbalance include diarrhea, burning sensations, skin irritations, odorous sweating, fever, inflammation, and a hypercritical or intense mental outlook. Pitta governs digestion and metabolism, so the fire may flare first in the small intestine and the stomach—pitta’s main seats in the body—with excesses of digestive acid and bile.

What to do when pitta’s boiling over? Keep in mind that doshic imbalances can vary in manifestation and severity, depending on many factors. If you suspect any health problems, seek a qualified practitioner. But if you’re simply a touch overheated, tune in to your senses and try applying opposing qualities to maintain balance in the midst of summer’s swelter.

TASTE Bitter, sweet, and astringent tastes calm pitta, so eat more foods like apples, grapes, zucchini, lettuce, cucumbers, cilantro, and fresh organic dairy. Eliminate or reduce your intake of alcohol, heavy meats, and fried, oily, salty, spicy, and sour foods. Instead of salt, use fennel seeds, coriander, fenugreek, and fresh lime juice for seasoning.

TOUCH Wear breathable natural fibers that have a cooling effect, such as cotton and linen.

SMELL Treat yourself to a fresh bouquet of tuberose, gardenia, or freesia. Or dab on a diluted essential oil: Try rose, jasmine, geranium, vetiver, or ylang ylang.

SIGHT Take a break from work that requires intense visual focus. Gaze at summer’s verdant trees and meadows. Surround yourself with cooling hues of pearl white, blue, green, silver, and gray.

SOUND Listen to flute music and devotional songs to calm your heart and soothe your spirit.

PRANAYAMA Try cooling pranayama techniques, like Sitali and Sitkari, which are done by inhaling through the mouth and exhaling through the nose.

To do Sitali, sit in a comfortable position, make an O shape with your mouth, and curl the tongue lengthwise. Then, as B.K.S. Iyengar instructs in Light on Pranayama (Crossroad, 1998), “draw in air…as if drinking with a straw and fill the lungs completely.” Withdraw the tongue, close the mouth, and hold the breath for five to 10 seconds. Exhale through the nose. Repeat this cycle for five to 10 minutes and then rest in Savasana (Corpse Pose).

If you can’t curl your tongue, try Sitkari, which is similar to Sitali except that the tongue is kept flat. Part the lips and allow the tip of the tongue to protrude slightly. Practice gently and without intensity early or late in the day, when the air is cool.

Pitta Pops Try this frozen treat on a hot afternoon.

MAKES EIGHT 4-OUNCE POPSICLES

1 quart vanilla almond milk
1/3 cup raw or turbinado sugar
2 tablespoons powdered cardamom

1. Pour one cup of the almond milk into a small saucepan. Stir in the sugar and cardamom and heat to almost frothing. Turn off the heat.

2. Pour the remaining almond milk into a large bowl. Add the hot mixture and whisk to combine all the ingredients. Allow to cool, then pour into Popsicle forms and freeze.

Whether we’re standing tall in Tadasana (Mountain Pose) or flexing our toes in Paschimottanasana (Seated Forward Bend), yoga gives us ample opportunity to focus on feet. Unfortunately, it’s often the only time we do. Foot care is not something many of us find time for, and when a yoga instructor directs our attention toward our feet, we’re often unpleasantly surprised.

According to the American Podiatric Medical Association, eight out of 10 American adults will suffer from some kind of foot problem in their lives?nd yogis are no exception. For the regular practitioner, foot problems often go unnoticed until a callus thwarts our stance in Trikonasana (Triangle Pose) or foot odor becomes a source of embarrassment in class. But here’s the good news: Simple home treatments can both treat and prevent common podiatric problems.

If you’ve ever surveyed the feet that walk through the doors of your local studio, you know that certain problems are common among yogis. Perspiration can be one of them, and it’s no wonder. With 250,000 sweat glands, your feet can produce as much as eight ounces of sweat daily.

To avoid slipping around on your mat, brew two black tea bags in one pint of boiled water for 15 minutes. Add two quarts of cool water and soak your feet for 20 to 30 minutes. The tannic acid in the brewed tea will change your skin’s pH level and help prevent unwanted odor-causing bacteria.

Athlete’s foot presents another big challenge. This itchy condition around the toes ranks as the most common fungal infection in the United States. You can pick up the organism that causes athlete’s foot almost anywhere?ncluding shared sticky mats?o consider bringing your own to class.

Geranium oil and tea tree oil both have germ- and bacteria-killing properties, making them excellent treatments. Add these oils to your own creams and powders, or look for products containing them as a key ingredient. Athlete’s foot germs thrive in damp environments, so also be sure to keep your feet clean and dry, especially between the toes where moisture can get trapped.

While not contagious, corns and calluses certainly cause discomfort. Your body produces these growths as protection against daily friction and pressure, but if they get too large, it’s time to smooth and reduce them. Use a wet pumice stone to slough off extra skin, or purchase foot creams that contain ground pumice for smooth, soft feet.

Also, try adding fresh or canned pineapple juice to your footbath. This tropical fruit contains bromelain, a natural enzyme that will help soften calluses and rough heels.

After the birth of her first child, Colleen Millen, 35, knew that she would approach childbirth differently if given another chance. Then a Forrest Yoga teacher in Chicago, Millen stuck to her typical yoga routine throughout her pregnancy. She modified her practice as her belly blossomed, but she shrugged off the prenatal classes at her studio, assuming her years of practicing yoga had bestowed on her the tools for a trouble-free childbirth.

But when the initial pangs of labor brought unrelenting nausea, Millen and her husband raced to the hospital, where her confidence unraveled. Nurses rushed to start intravenous fluids and hook up equipment to monitor the baby’s heart rate. Millen was soon on her back, and as the contractions intensified, so did her feelings of helplessness. “I’d practiced yoga for years, but none of that was a comfort when the pain came,” she says. After a long, difficult labor, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy, Jacob, but she still feels haunted by the lack of presence she felt during the experience.

Three years later, while planning for baby number two, Millen dived into prenatal yoga. “I cultivated a strong prenatal practice so that when the time came, the movements and breath would kick in instinctually.” And that’s what happened. When her labor began, Millen focused her attention on a gazing point, relaxed her jaw (to encourage the pelvis to release), and harnessed the power of her breath to make the most of every contraction. “My preparation helped me surrender to the energy and move with it instead of fighting and struggling against it.”

After just 15 minutes of pushing, she and her husband welcomed their daughter, Samantha, into the world. But even if she’d had to face an arduous labor again, Millen believes that her prenatal practice would’ve helped. Not only did she feel more physically prepared the second time around, but she felt as though her mind and energy were more united throughout the entire birth experience.

Prenatal yoga, the deliberate weaving together of yoga and childbirth preparation, opens the door for women to reclaim their physical, mental, and emotional power and receptivity during the birth process. “Somehow, as women, we think we will automatically know how to give birth,” says Gurmukh Kaur Khalsa, co–founder and director of Golden Bridge Yoga in Los Angeles, who has taught prenatal yoga for nearly 30 years. “But we are so detached from our instinctual selves that sometimes we need to be reminded of what we already know.”

For a growing number of women, that reminder is prenatal yoga. Expectant mothers in urban centers are flocking to yoga studios that have whimsical names such as Mamaste and Baby Om, while moms-to-be in smaller locales are finding a proliferation of prenatal classes at yoga studios, gyms, and birthing centers. What’s the universal appeal? Prenatal yoga classes offer a place of refuge where women learn to connect with their chang-ing bodies, their babies, and each other. Asana prepares them physically for giving birth, but most women find that the awareness of body, mind, and breath that it teaches is what truly helps them when it’s time to deliver. As Rachel Yellin, a prenatal yoga teacher in San Francisco, says, “Doing prenatal yoga doesn’t mean you’ll have the ‘perfect’ birth; it means you’ll be able to accept the perfection of the birth you’re given, regardless of whether it goes according to your plan.”

Creating Connection

The community-oriented approach of prenatal yoga took Stephanie Snyder, 35, by surprise. A Vinyasa Yoga teacher in San Francisco, she was accustomed to using her practice as a means to feel connected to others. But the true meaning of oneness didn’t fully resonate until she joined her first prenatal class. “When I practice yoga in the company of pregnant women, not only do I feel connected to them, but I feel connected to every woman who has ever been pregnant and any woman who will ever give birth,” she says. “That primal connection is empowering, and I know it will help me through the labor and delivery.”

Cultivating that bond is a big part of most prenatal classes. Like many of her counterparts, Deb Flashenberg, founder and director of the Prenatal Yoga Center in New York City, encourages the women in her classes to get to know one another. She starts each class by asking students to introduce themselves, give their due date, and share any pregnancy-related aches and pains. The check-in is both an icebreaker and a means of lessening isolation. “I can see the relief register on women’s faces when they realize they aren’t the only ones with a particular complaint,” Flashenberg says. “The sharing of information among new mothers is a wonderful perk of prenatal yoga.”

Snyder, pregnant at press time with her first child, often found that her jitters were best soothed by those women in her class who were pregnant for the second or third time. Judith Hanson Lasater, president of the California Yoga Teachers’ Association and author of Yoga for Pregnancy: What Every Mom-to-Be Needs to Know, says that prenatal classes provide the space for women to pass down the legacy and wisdom of childbirth. “The way we live now, pregnant women aren’t around their family and friends as much.” The result? As Lasater explains, “There is very little tribal support anymore for pregnant women.” Prenatal yoga can be the answer. Flashenberg notes that many of her students form bonds that last long after they leave the classroom. Connections blossom into friendships, moms’ groups form, and their children often become friends. What manifests is a network of support that grows richer as their children grow.

Not Just for Newbies

The community-based atmosphere makes prenatal yoga a magnet for newbies, but even experienced students may find themselves stretching in new directions. Snyder, for instance, has practiced two to three hours of Vinyasa Yoga daily for the past 12 years. Needless to say, she knows her way around a mat, yet she’s discovered the value of bringing a beginner’s mind to her prenatal yoga class. For the first time, she’s actively mellowing out her practice and shifting her focus away from rigorous vinyasa and toward the union of being one with her baby. “It’s a great way to literally start making space in your life and in your practice for your baby,” she says. “And I get to practice asana that is geared toward the special sensations and vibrations that come with pregnancy.” She especially enjoys Savasana (Corpse Pose) at the end of class, when the teacher offers guided visualizations, prompting the women to envision their babies surrounded by love and warmth. “Prenatal yoga is a special bonding time for me and my child in a way that’s different from my regular asana practice,” Snyder says.

For others, the switch from practicing solo to having a baby on board can be a little bumpier. Releasing the ego can be a challenge for intermediate and advanced practitioners, Flashenberg says. Students may find it hard to accept how pregnancy changes their bodies and how their practice must shift. Some women can continue to practice fairly vigorously. But certain poses should be dialed back or phased out during pregnancy, particularly unsupported inversions, deep twists, prone backbends like Bhujangasana (Cobra Pose) and Salabhasana (Locust Pose), and strenuous backbends. That means forgoing Sun Salutations with Cobra or Urdhva Mukha Svanasana (Upward Facing Dog) and instead stepping back to simple lunges. Also, certain pranayama techniques should be avoided, such as Kapalabhati Pranayama (Skull Shining Breath) and anything in which you hold the breath, which is called Kumbhaka Pranayama (breath retention).

Attending classes can help you reconsider the temptation to overdo. “Prenatal yoga reminds you it’s not just your body,” Flashenberg says. “You’re sharing it now, which means it’s not the time to push yourself.” She also notes that during pregnancy, the ligaments in your pelvic area and lower back loosen due to an increase in the hormone relaxin, which is thought to help widen the pelvis and facilitate labor. So it’s especially important to avoid overstretching, or you could wind up injured for lack of the usual painful warning signs telling you to stop.

That’s not to say prenatal yoga is for wimps. You won’t master any new Handstand variations and you should avoid jump-throughs, but the level of intensity might surprise you. Classes focus on uncovering hidden sources of stamina, nurturing new ones, and maximizing hip flexibility. To that end, the most strenuous portion of the class is typically the standing segment, during which you can expect to work your edge by holding poses for a minute or longer—the length of an average contraction.

Prenatal teachers knowingly seed their classes with opportunities for students to safely explore and expand their threshold for discomfort. When Amy Zurowski, 32, a prenatal yoga teacher who lives in McMinnville, Oregon, takes her students into Warrior II, for example, she guides them through an imaginary labor. As they hold steady in the pose, thighs working overtime, they imagine themselves breathing through a contraction. Zurowski encourages them to stay present and accept the discomfort by gently reminding them that women have been birthing babies for hundreds of thousands of years. “As you ease out of your pose, perhaps with tired quads, you are more confident of your innate abilities as a woman and as a mother-to-be,” she says.

Otherwise, classes typically start with gentle warm-ups, graduate to standing and some basic balancing poses, then move to the floor for seated poses. Savasana may be as long as 15 to 20 minutes, giving students time to set up props and sink into deep relaxation. After the first trimester, lying on the back for long periods of time is not recommended since it can slow blood flow to the baby, so blankets and bolsters are used to support students as they lie on their left side to rest.

Don’t Forget to Breathe

Prenatal yoga conditions the mind even more than the body. “The primary benefit of prenatal yoga is breath awareness,” Yellin says. “If you can use the breath as an anchor, it will draw your attention inward and downward, exactly the direction you want your baby to go.”

Yellin gently reminds her students that the breath should always be their primary focus; the physical sensations arising from the asana are secondary. In this way, she explains, they learn to train their focus on the breath during labor and not on the contraction: “Using the breath as an anchor keeps a woman grounded, no matter how overwhelming the sensations might be.”

Monica Paredes, a Kripalu Yoga teacher in Austin, Texas, relied on her breath during the birth of her son, Gabriel. On the taxi ride to the hospital, she took comfort in the vibration of chanting Om. Later, as her labor progressed, she relied on the Ujjayi Pranayama (Victorious Breath) to steady her resolve. Looking back, she says, “My breath and intention were focused on trust and surrender. I dropped into my breath and let everything else go.”

As a Kundalini teacher, Gurmukh Kaur Khalsa encourages her prenatal students to return to the breath as a touchstone during the intensity of labor and childbirth. She uses the mantra Sat nam with the breath. Loosely translated, it means “Truth is my identity.” Say “sat” on the inhalation and “nam” on the exhalation. The mantra can quell anxiety during pregnancy and childbirth. Gurmukh says, “Added to the breath during pregnancy, it can help you realize that where there is truth, there is no fear, and where there is no fear, there is only love.”

Own Your Birth

The benefits of prenatal yoga can extend well beyond the big moment. Yoga’s time-honored teachings of acceptance and surrender can gently nudge practitioners past a birth that doesn’t go according to plan. Flashenberg likes to remind her prenatal students that birth is like everything else in life: You don’t always get to choose your circumstances, but you can choose how you react to them.

The acceptance she honed in her prenatal yoga class helped Jennifer Coffin, 36, a yoga teacher in Knoxville, Tennessee, come to terms with the birth of her son, Max. She’d set her sights on having a natural birth, but Max had other ideas. Toward the end of her last trimester, an ultrasound revealed the baby was about to enter the world feet first, a breech position often considered too dangerous for vaginal delivery. First, Coffin threw herself into a “fix it” mode, trying to goad him into flipping. She tried therapies from traditional Chinese medicine and practiced gentle inversions. But when he refused to budge, she acquiesced to a cesarean section. “I had to accept the fact that it was the safest option for me and my baby,” she says. She credits her prenatal yoga training with helping her let go of the disappointment. “I would have fallen apart if it weren’t for the mental and emotional strength I had gained from my yoga practice,” she says.

In the end, childbirth, like parenting, comes down to trusting your intuition, feeling what’s right, and not relying on what others think, Lasater says. “That’s what the practice of yoga is all about…being fully, deeply, richly, and radically present with your own self.”

1.Antara Kumbhaka requires the application of both Jalandhara and Mula Bandhas; in addition the rib case gently “hugs” the lungs. 2. Establish Sama Vritti Ujjayi (and for this example, the vritti count is 6 OMs). To begin, apply the two bandhas as you near the end of your inhale, and retain the breath for 2 OMs, no more. Gently squeeze the ribs against the expanded lungs. Then exhale, concurrently releasing Mula Bandha and, when finished, raise your head to neutral. DON’T perform Kumbhaka on successive breaths; take 2 to 3 Ujjayi breaths before the next retention.

3.In general your first Kumbhakas should be one-third to one-half the length of your Sama Vritti count. Practice at this level until you’re completely comfortable, which may take several weeks or longer.

4.Then gradually reduce the number of Ujjayis between Kumbhakas until you can comfortably retain your breath for 2 OMs on successive inhales for about 5 minutes. Next increase your Kumbhaka to 3 OMs, but again separate them by 2 to 3 Ujjayis. Again gradually reduce the Ujjayis until you can comfortably retain for 3 OMs on successive inhales for 5 minutes.

5.Proceed methodically until your Kumbhaka count matches your Sama Vritti count. Now STOP. Don’t go any further without direct guidance from an experienced teacher.

strengthens your back body, opens your front body, and stretches the back of your neck, making it an effective preparation for Sarvangasana (Shoulderstand) and a great pose for keeping your back in good shape. But it can be more challenging than it looks, and you may feel that your ego has been bruised after attempts to practice it are less than satisfying. Three main physical limitations get in the way of building a graceful Bridge: shortness in the front body, stiffness or injury in the neck, and weakness in the back body.The degree of flexibility in your spine comes into play here, too. If you watch a friend who has a relatively stiff back doing Cat-Cow Pose on hands and knees on the floor, you’ll see what I mean. Observe the Cow phase, when the head and tail lift and the spine extends into a backbend. Typically, a stiff middle and upper (thoracic) back will stay rounded in a hump even as the neck and lower back go into the backbend. If your upper back stays rounded like this when you attempt backbending poses such as Bridge or Camel, then the lower back (lumbar spine) will compensate by overarching, or hyperextending. When the lumbar spine extends too much, it becomes vulnerable to painful compression and short, achy lower back muscles. Ideally, the thoracic spine should contribute to the extension, creating a long, spacious arch along the whole spine.

So what keeps the thoracic spine from backward bending into extension? Injury or arthritis in your vertebrae may limit the range of motion, but for many students, the thoracic spine stays rounded because the muscles on the front body and connective tissue around the spine and rib cage are short and tight. These muscular culprits include the pectorals, which run across the front of the chest; the rectus abdominus, which runs straight up the middle of the abdomen between the pubic bones and the front lower ribs; and the internal and external obliques, which form a diagonal cross on the abdomen between pelvis and rib cage. Some of the intercostals (the muscles between the ribs) help with exhalation, so if they’re short, usually due to poor breathing patterns or prolonged slumping, they too may limit the chest opening.

Muscles become short for two reasons. Either they are regularly worked hard (like the abdominals of someone who does a lot of sit-ups) and not stretched, or they are regularly placed in a shortened position (like those of someone sitting) for long periods of time and not stretched. Supported backbends are an easy antidote. They stretch the rectus abdominus and obliques, open the front ribs and thoracic spine, and when set up properly, feel great.

On a Roll

Start with a towel or small blanket rolled into a cylinder. Lie on your back, with the roll running horizontally across your back. The roll should be placed underneath the thoracic spine in the vicinity of the bottom of the shoulder blades. Make sure it’s not under the very lowest ribs or the low back, or that area will overarch and the thoracic will stay in its familiar flexed position. Reach your arms out to the sides, bend your elbows to 90 degrees, and place your forearms on the floor parallel to your body with palms up to help stretch the pectoral muscles across the front of the chest and shoulders. Breathe and relax into the stretch for two to three minutes, then gradually build up to five minutes.

As you become more flexible, you can use bigger blanket rolls or a round (not flat) bolster, but you may want to support your head so you don’t hyperextend your neck. Stretching the abdominals, pectorals, and intercostals is most effective when they’re warm and tired from your yoga practice or other exercise (especially activities in which your weight is supported by the arms). Aim for stretching them at least three to five times each week.

Next, consider the shoulder position in Bridge. As your pelvis and back rib cage lift off the floor and the arms press down into the floor, the shoulders move into extension. Assuming that the shoulder joint isn’t injured, the muscles that limit extension are the same muscles that perform flexion: the upper portion of the pectoralis major, which covers the upper front chest, and the anterior part of the deltoid muscle, which forms the cap covering the shoulder joint. By stretching the pectoralis major and the anterior deltoid, you’ll increase the range of motion in shoulder extension, which will enable you to lift your rib cage higher and open your chest more in Bridge.

There are a few ways to do that. Start by interlacing your fingers behind your back, standing or seated, with the cup of the palms facing upward. As you straighten your elbows, move the shoulder blades down away from your ears and back, to open your chest. To increase the stretch, move your hands away from your tailbone without hyperextending your lower back or letting your shoulders roll forward. If your shoulders roll forward, you’ll collapse and drop your chest, which you don’t want to do in Bridge.

You can also open your chest by simply rotating your shoulders externally. First, find the internal rotation by standing in front of a mirror and turning the palms of your hands back toward the wall behind you. Watch how the shoulders rotate in and roll forward toward the chest, the breastbone drops, and thoracic flexion increases. Next turn your palms forward and notice how the shoulders rotate externally. They roll back and down, pressing the whole shoulder blade into the back ribs. This is just the action you want in Bridge and Shoulderstand.

Build your bridge

After lying over a roll and getting a feel for shoulder extension and external rotation, you’re ready to do Bridge. Lie on your back with your knees bent and turn your palms up toward the ceiling to position your chest and shoulders properly. If you’re new to Bridge, or if you have a stiff back or chest or an injured lower back or neck, start with the modified version called Half Bridge. Lift your tailbone and roll up until you make a straight line from shoulder to hip to knee. Pause there and keep your tailbone strongly lifted. Keep practicing Half Bridge for weeks or even months if you’re still struggling with injuries or stiffness.

When you’re ready to lift higher, come into the full pose by pressing the shoulder blades into the back ribs as you move the thoracic vertebrae toward the breastbone. Next, bring awarness to your neck. When your chin moves toward your chest, your neck will naturally flatten. To maintain some of the natural curve, touch the underside of your neck and create a little space between the vertebrae and the floor.

Over time, as you’re able to lift the chest more, the extensors on the back of the neck will stretch and lengthen, which can be quite a relief if you have short, tight muscles on the back of your neck. However, if you’ve had whiplash-type injuries, arthritis, or disk injuries in the neck, you might feel pain during or after Bridge Pose. If this is the case, try placing a folded blanket (at least two by three feet), or even two, under the arms and shoulders, with the head on the floor and the neck curving over the edge of the blanket. This should reduce the flattening and therefore the strain on the neck.

Before you take Bridge Pose, it’s a good idea to warm up first with standing poses or Sun Salutations. Then lie over a roll to open your chest, shoulders, and thoracic spine, and use a blanket under your shoulders if you have a stiff or vulnerable neck. Practice Half or Full Bridge twice a week. Start where you are, with what you can do, and watch your horizons broaden

The primary issue for most people is protecting the knee, which can be very vulnerable in Padmasana and its variations. Padmasana requires a fair amount of flexibility in the hips. When the hips are tight, the knee ends up taking too much pressure and can become strained or injured. Anatomically, the hip is a ball-and-socket joint, which means it is designed for a wide and varied range of motion. The knee, however, is a hinge joint, not designed for the same kind of actions. Therefore it is crucial, when preparing for Padmasana, to develop flexibility in the hips so that the knee isn’t compromised.

My suggestion is to begin with a variety of externally rotated standing postures, such as Virabhadrasana II (Warrior II Pose), Utthita Parsvakonasana (Extended Side Angle Pose), and Utthita Trikonasana (Extended Triangle Pose), as well as a series of supine and seated hip openers. On the floor, you could begin with “thread the needle” on your back (which puts the least pressure on the knee but provides a deep stretch), followed by Janu Sirsasana (Head-to-Knee Forward Bend) or an Ardha Matsyandrasana (Half Lord of the Fishes Pose) variation, and then double pigeon or Gomukhasana (Cow Face Pose). In addition, I would warm up your knees a bit further with a Marichyasana (Pose Dedicated to the Sage Marichi), probably B, since you have facility in Ardha Padmasana.

While these poses can help prepare for Padmasana, it is very important that when you actually practice the pose itself, you also practice ahimsa, or nonharming. Pay attention to rotating your leg from as high in the hip socket as possible, and do not ignore pain in your knee if it does occur. Also consider working with a teacher who has a sense of your body and practice, and who can help you in a more direct way with the details of alignment. Padmasana takes time and patience and is never worth forcing.

1.Sit in a comfortable pose.

2.Firm your shoulder blades against your back torso to lift your sternum. Be careful not to push your front ribs forward.

3.Full Jalandhara requires the chin to rest comfortably on the sternum (neck flexion). Many beginners make the mistake of only lowering the chin; in fact your chin should be met half-way by the elevated sternum.

4.The focus of these complementary movements is the “crook” of the throat, where the underside of the chin meets the front of the neck. Draw this crook diagonally up and into your skull (toward the top of your spine). Your head should pivot and your chin should descend over this action, which simultaneously draws the top of the sternum upward.

5.Work on lengthening the back of your neck, releasing your shoulders, and opening your chest in poses like Sarvangasana and Setu Bandha Sarvangasana. Never force your chin to your sternum.

6. If you’re a beginner, don’t hold this bandha continuously throughout your practice. Begin your inhalation with your head upright. Apply Jalandhara as you near the end of the inhale, hold during the retention and the exhale, then raise your head to a neutral position for the next inhale.

1.If you already have a regular meditation routine, do a minute or two of it to get grounded and comfortable, and maintain your usual posture. If you’re new to meditation, find a comfortable upright position (sitting in a chair is sufficient), take a few deep breaths, and relax as much as you can. Set aside 25 minutes for the entire practice.

 2.From your relaxed meditation position, ask yourself to speak with your Controller. (You’ll probably feel a bit strange speaking to yourself this way, but you’re simply giving voice to the running dialogue that already exists inside your head.) The Controller is essentially your ego. Its job, as its name implies, is to control. You’ve likely met and probably struggle with this aspect of yourself.

3.Ask the Controller about its job, then probe further and ask what it controls—your actions, your thoughts, other people? This is neither good nor bad; the Controller is just doing its job. A key component of the Big Mind process is gaining the Controller’s—the ego’s—cooperation and not threatening it with annihilation, as spiritual training often does.

4.Once you gain the Controller’s trust, you can ask it for permission to speak with your other voices; the ego is usually glad to temporarily step aside if it has been consulted.

5.Next up is the Skeptic. Before asking the Controller to speak with the Skeptic, however, take a deep breath; when you shift into another voice, it’s good to give the mental movement a physical correlation.

6.Let the Skeptic be what it is. It’s OK that a part of you is skeptical; it’s actually a good thing. If you didn’t have a skeptical voice, you might find yourself continually being hoodwinked. Ask the Skeptic what it has doubts about.

 7.Now take a breath and ask to speak with Seeking Mind. Shift over to this new voice. Meditators often have a problem with Seeking Mind; they want to get rid of it, because it creates so much desire. But Seeking Mind is doing what it’s meant to do. It’s helpful to remember that without it, you might not be meditating in the first place.

 8.Take another breath and shift to Nonseeking Mind. Nonseeking Mind is the state of meditation. There is nowhere to go, nothing to do. Again, this is neither good nor bad; Nonseeking Mind simply doesn’t seek. Explore Nonseeking Mind.

9.Take a moment here to notice how easy or hard it is to shift from one voice to another. Moving among your different selves helps you realize the empty nature of the self—that is, you have no static identity; you are continually changing. You might think your identity is set in stone (I am shy, I am angry, I am spiritual), but these are just voices floating in space; they’re not you. You’re much bigger than you think.

10.Now take a breath and shift into Big Mind. This is the voice that contains all the other voices. It is known by various names: the ground of being, Buddha Mind, Universal Mind, God. By its very nature, it has no beginning and no end. There is nothing outside of Big Mind, but Big Mind is a voice inside of you. Big Mind’s job, you could say, is just to be.

11.Ask Big Mind what it does and doesn’t contain. Does it contain your birth? Your parents’ birth? Your death? Can you find its beginning or end? Does it contain your other voices? How does it see your daily problems?

12.Stay in Big Mind for as long as you can. In this state, you have surrendered your personal ego (with its permission) to your true and universal nature.

 13.Next, find your voice of Big Heart. Explore what it does for you and others. Its job is to be compassionate. How does it respond when someone or something is hurting? Does it take the form of tough love or tender nurturing or both? Does it have any limits when faced with suffering? Sit with this voice for a while.

14.Now shift back into Nonseeking Mind and stay with it for a couple minutes to end the meditation. Though you might want to stay in Big Mind forever, the simple fact is that no single voice is the stopping place; there is no stopping place. Continually working with and accepting all of your voices will, in turn, help you accept the myriad voices of others.

Once learned, the Big Mind process can be used at any time during meditation practice or throughout the day. If you’re feeling particularly angry during meditation, you can connect with Angry Self, let it have its say, and move into Nonseeking Mind or Big Mind. Play with your various voices and see what you can find.

Beneath a bronze Shiva Nataraja flanked by candles, Jai Uttal sits on a low stage in front of some 25 people gathered at the Phoenix, Arizona, Yoga Pura center. A wiry figure with close-cropped hair, Uttal establishes a meditative note on his harmonium, a small Indian pump organ. He sings an ancient Sanskrit mantra, “Radhe, Radhe, Radhe, Govinda,” a distillation of the divine between Krishna and Radha. At Uttal’s right, percussionist Daniel Paul kicks into a slow, expansive beat on the tabla drums. The crowd picks up on the simple melody and chants back—tentatively at first, then with increasing confidence as Uttal leads them deeper into the kirtan, a call-and-response musical meditation. A young, dreadlocked woman jumps to her feet and starts dancing. Others remain quiet with their eyes closed, hands pressed to their hearts.

Uttal has been leading kirtan as a world-beat pioneer since 1971. As the son of record executive Larry Uttal (who fostered the careers of Al Green, Frankie Valli, and Blondie, among others), Jai experienced a wide range of music growing up in New York City. In 1969, at the age of 19, he moved to California, where he studied devotional music with Ali Akbar Khan. Less than two years later Uttal headed to India and became a disciple of Neem Karoli Baba, guru to other kirtan artists such as Krishna Das and Bhagavan Das. Uttal then returned to the United States to pursue a pop and rock career, backing reggae artist Earl Zero and starting the Pagan Love Orchestra, a world fusion group.

“Kirtan was my private and personal practice,” he says, “but there was really no place to do it publicly.”

That is, until the early 90s. Uttal was asked to perform at New York’s Jivamukti Yoga Center shortly after the release of his first kirtan record, Footprints. “That was a pivotal moment in yoga and music,” says Jivamukti cofounder Sharon Gannon. “When Jai came to play, he was surprised that the place was packed and everybody could sing along.”

After Uttal’s performance, the center held weekly kirtans led by Krishna Das. At first attendance was low, but then it grew. And not just in New York.

“All of a sudden, it seemed like the older yoga teachers, who had been to India and knew about kirtan, started to pass their love of kirtan on to their secular yoga students. It was like a grassroots circuit for the music,” says percussionist Paul. “I notice that people don’t like to sit passively and listen to a concert all night . . . All of a sudden, here’s music that can be totally ego-less. In many cases, people don’t even know what they’re singing. But they can feel the power of it.”

Today, after thousands of kirtans, workshop tours, and 13 records, Uttal says he sees the music spreading from its Indian roots to mantra electronica and pop in Top 40 radio hits. For example, careful listeners can find Kundalini instructor Gurmukh Kaur Khalsa chanting on Red Hot Chili Peppers’ One Hot Minute and Sting on Krishna Das’s Pilgrim Heart

Western music—pop and otherwise— has always been a part of Uttal’s repertoire. His early love of American folk can be heard in the banjo and dobro backgrounds on his 2003 album, Kirtan: The Art and Practice of Ecstatic Chant, while his vocals combine the plaintiveness of Art Garfunkel with Steve Winwood’s blue-eyed soul. Uttal is currently working on a new album, which, he says, adds Brazilian flair to the kirtan mix. It’s scheduled to be released sometime this year.

“One of the great things about kirtan is that it can take any form as long as the mantras are treated with reverence and respect,” Uttal says. “But the real life of kirtan is a personal practice.”