CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

HOW DOES IT FEEL TO YOU?

          I think when most people envision the perfect yoga physique, they see a tall slender body with lean muscles and very little, if any, body fat. But what I have found was that there is no perfect physique for practicing yoga. Sure, for certain types, they may not advance as far or as quickly if they are heavy, but all in all, I have seen people with varying body sizes do some remarkable things.

          It is not only one's body size and shape, but what that body has been doing for the past twenty years and how that body was built to begin with, that allows some people to excel in certain asana over another. For instance, I noticed that although I could not touch my toes in the beginning, my forward bends have come along fairly well whereas my backbends have been giving me a battle General Custer would be proud of.

          Come to think of it, I see a lot of people struggling with backbends. And why not, after all, we bend forward every day, tying our shoes and picking things off the floor, whereas we never, or at least I don't, bend over backwards to perform the same task. So when I get on the mat and it's time to do a backbend, I shouldn't be surprised that it isn't easy.

          When I first started practicing and it was time for me to do a backbend, I would lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling. Of course, I told myself I was mentally preparing myself for the backbend, but I think we all know the truth. I was dreading it, and the longer I put it off, I thought the better the chance was that something would happen that would excuse me from doing them. Maybe the building would collapse or my car alarm would go off and I would have to chase the thieves on foot for maybe the first hundred miles or so. Unfortunately, regardless how long I would lie on the floor, none of these things ever happened.

          Then one day I had a different frame of mind and felt as though I had somehow made some progress. At the end of the class I proudly pointed this out to my instructor that the backbend I had just performed was the best I had ever done. But for some reason, I didn't get the congratulatory response I had expected.

          Never mind, I thought. Maybe he's having a bad day.

          About a week or so later my frame of mind was ideal as I pushed myself into a backbend which felt as though my body was in a perfect "U" shape. Again, I informed my instructor immediately afterward but he still did not sound very enthusiastic. Not satisfied, I remained in front of him until he finally asked, "How did it feel to you?"

          When I told him it felt great, he said, "That's all that counts."

          What does this guy want, I remember asking myself.

          Then a few days later, I was practicing at home in a room which had a full-length mirror. When it came time for my backbend, I positioned myself in front of the mirror and on an inhale, pushed myself into my beautiful backbend. When I was completely satisfied it was perfect, I looked into the mirror and was shocked. At first I thought some one else was in the room with me, and I was looking at their reflection, but when I saw the disappointed expression in the mirror, I knew it was me.

          Previously, I had been pleased with the progress I had been feeling and now that I saw it in the mirror, I was completely bewildered. If my reflection was correct, what I actually looked like was a coffee table. Both my legs and arms were completely perpendicular to the floor and my torso was parallel. Nowhere in sight was the perfect inverted "U" I had been feeling. As though a dark cloud was hovering over me, I lost interest in backbends for quite a while.

          After that eye opener, every time I was to do a backbend, I would once again fool around on the floor, maybe count the paint strokes in the ceiling, and when all else failed and I had to do something, I would give it a halfhearted effort. Fortunately, after a while, I became disappointed in myself and the way I had been acting. I began to think about it and concluded that maybe my instructor was right. At the end of the day, perhaps it doesn't matter what it looks like, as much as it matters how it feels.

          After all, we should be the best judges as to how much progress we are making and how much better an asana feels today than it did yesterday. Once I put these bad thoughts behind me, I began to really work on my backbends, and one day I was finally able to straighten my arms. When I did, my shoulders pulled back, my chest flew open and the stress no longer showed on my face.

          Was this a perfect backbend, you may be wondering.

          I suspect not, but it felt better than any backbend I had ever done in the past. Maybe this is what's important. Not necessarily how it looks as much as how it feels. After all, if it continually feels better, one of these days, it should be close to being correct.