Corpse Pose: The dying/rebirth cycle of healing

I took a yoga workshop over the weekend and heard something that made me prick up my ears.  The teacher was describing corpse pose, or savasana.  It's the pose that ends the yoga practice and basically entails lying supine in deep relaxation.  She said it was called corpse pose because during the pose, we were honoring all that had "died" during the practice and preparing for the rebirth as we exited the practice and entered the rest of the day.  I've gladly entered savasana many times in my practice, but I'd never thought of it in these terms.  I knew immediately that I would somehow incorporate this new perspective into my practice.

The following day, I was in yoga class, doing a heart opening pose.  My tight biceps was screaming at me and I was wondering how I could modify the pose to make it less intense.  About that time, the instructor came by and gave my upper back some support.  Before I could protest that I did not want to go deeper, a wave of fear washed over me.  I was afraid of the pain and the potential for injury.  As I watched the fear, it instantaneously dissolved and my shoulders relaxed and I softened into the pose.  Next, I felt waves of sorrow and knew that I'd experienced an emotional as well as a physical release.

Today in yoga class, I had a similar experience.  This time, it happened while working toward the splits, or hanumanasana.  We'd been warming and stretching our hips and thighs all class, working toward the splits.  My body is pretty tight in this area, so I don't really get into the splits, but I do set up some blocks and approximate the pose. As I settled into hanumanasana, my psyche used the opportunity of a physical opening to release emotions.  Although I had no specific reason for the feeling, I felt tears welling up.  This time, there were lots of tears and after finishing the pose, I rested on my back with my feet up the wall, allowing the emotions to flow. 

Of course, we're talking yoga class, so that means corpse pose at the end.  As I settled into corpse pose on each of these two days, I remembered the words of my teacher.  I thought about funerals.  At funerals, we give gratitude for the people we knew.  Even if we didn't always get along, we remember them with love.  I brought this attitude to my savasana.  I thought of the physical constrictions and the emotional holdings I'd encountered during my heart and hip openers.  They were now passing out of my body and out of my life and I wanted to honor them as I said goodbye.  Thank you, thank you, oh thank you, I whispered internally to the patterns that had lived in my heart and my pelvis.  I knew they had served me as best as they could and had been there for a reason.  I knew they had been with me for quite some time.  This was my chance to express appreciation before I began again without the old patterns. 

As my time in savasana ended, it was time to roll onto my side into fetal position.  I reminded myself of the true meaning of fetal--birth.  It was time to birth a renewed self.  From the powerful energetic shifts I'd experienced in my body, I knew I had truly undergone transformation.  On an energetic level, I wasn't the same, but I'd also changed physically.  My connective tissue had mechanically changed.  My nervous system had encountered new sensory inputs.  My muscles had reset their level of tension.  I brought conscious awareness of this freshness to my fetal position.  Then I sat up, ready to explore each present moment with mindful awareness.

The notion of death and dying can seem scary.  I know firsthand the difficulties of letting go.  Yet I'm pretty sure none of us want a stagnant life.  We yearn for newness, freshness, and growth.  In addition to birthing new things, the healing process necessitates allowing something to die.  It's about letting go and surrendering.  As I discovered in savasana, it helps to bring a ritual component to this process, to meet what's dying with love and gratitude. 

There's always something emerging from the ashes or from the void.  There's always new growth or experience or sensation.  I intend to keep this awareness in mind and embrace the healing cycle of death and rebirth.

Doubt, part 4

At this stage in my life, I'm trying to do exactly what someone mentioned in yesterday's comment section--bring acceptance to my doubts.  I've recognized that getting caught up in doubt doesn't make me happy, but being caught up in certainty doesn't either.  It's in my nature to question and explore; I'm always digging for a deeper understanding of what I encounter.  It's pretty painful not it accept a common aspect of my personality, and I don't want to bring myself that grief! 

When I allow myself to have my doubts unharrassed, I discover that they are thoughts, just thoughts.  They aren't an indication of who I am at my core, and with proper perspective, they don't run my life or make decisions for me.  I learn that each doubt has a diffferent nuance.  Under some doubts is a yearning for truth or deeper meaning.  Some doubts reflect the need to do something differently; they show me where I'm thinking or doing something that's just not right for me.  Other doubts point out buried emotions like fear or anger. 

This practice of being with doubt is actually just like so many other healing processes in my life.  It's acceptance and appreciation of something that I originally found objectionable, sitting with the feelings that arise, and discovering the resource that's available at the core.  There's another realm that doubt can lead me to.  It's not a realm of the mind, but of the spirit.  In my essence, I find a calm knowing.  This knowing isn't the rigid certainty of mind but a strong, peaceful expansive state.  It's a state that can allow the doubting thoughts to subside, but more importantly, it can coexist with the doubts without contradiction.  Knowing is in my soul while doubt is in my mind.  What a relief to recognize that knowing isn't a matter of changing the mind from doubt, but rather opening to a different aspect of myself. 

This understanding can help me to stop identifying with the doubts as if they define me.  I'm the first to admit, when I'm wracked by doubt, it's really hard to get to the place of inner knowing.  That's why I'm making a point to cultivate and recognize the deep knowing of my being in times of relative calm.  The more connected I am to this quality, the more it supports me when I find my mind unsure and confused.  It gives me an fighting chance at being compassionate toward myself when I'm full of doubt and that is perhaps the greatest gift of it all.