Once abstinence was firmly a part of my life, once I had dealt with the wreckage of my past, and once I was solidly practicing the principles of the twelve-step program in my daily life, I still had an inner landscape to explore. Moving down the path in recovery, I found the need to heal my body, to get into movement and rehabilitate my stagnant physiology. As my children grew up, I had more opportunities to be on my own and could walk, try gym classes, and even take a dance class. Each of these had physical health as a focus, and I became more fit and strong (initially I could only manage to walk around my block, and eventually I was able to run a ten-mile race). Physical health was only one aspect of the recovery I sought. I went to a church and hung around with people who had a spiritual life and a spiritual quest. I belonged to an antiwar/nonviolence group. I was patching together solutions to my overall needs for a holistic answer to my deeper longings. I was unsure what physical discipline could combine with my need to move into my body, spirit, and recovery. Then I found yoga.
I do not have a flexible body, but I do have a flexible mind. I am aware of my physical limitations, but my desire for the integration of body, mind, and spirit has no such limits. I was afraid of stepping into a yoga studio for fear of not fitting in, of lack of capability, and of being “not as good as.” I actually had to try a few yoga studios to find one with a heart, the one that had room for the inquiring, uncertain student in me. I was fortunate enough to have teachers who brought attention to the breath as well as the postures. They taught the principles of working within your own capacity and accepting yourself the way you are, and they taught integration of spirit, body, and mind during final relaxation. These skills are useful on the mat and in your life.
Each class allowed me to release more and more stiffness and tension. My shoulders, which were often drawn up to my ears, began to descend as I released the weight of the world I had been carrying for so long. Once I learned to identify and let go of tension, I was able to replace that with strength—strength and energy to deal with “life on life’s terms” rather than fighting, resisting, and controlling.
I had heard and read enough to know that yoga was more than just the postures, and that there was a reason for the breath work and meditative aspect, and that the practice could provide me with a doorway to further integration. Recovery had reached a plateau, and my spiritual seeking had moved me away from a church—but toward something more defined than “Good Orderly Direction” or “Group of Drunks/Druggies” (as some in recovery say). I was definitely looking for a deeper connection. Yoga is not a religion; it is a spiritual practice. My continuing journey had to include a deeper sense of self-knowledge and an embrace of the divine around and within me. This came to me through the smoothness of the breath, the focus of the poses, the release of trapped feelings, and the energy that yoga poses allow. This abiding calm had an impact on both my prayer and my meditation; it also moved into my life off the mat into my daily activities and relationships.
My investigation into yoga started with the body postures and finding a style that suited me. I eventually found it. Integral hatha yoga taught me to feel my insides clearly—to practice something difficult, sometimes physically stressful, but that led to inner peace. Many benefits were immediate. I learned poses that I could take into the workplace to give me a sense of calm and serenity. A simple forward fold into “rag doll,” arms hanging limply to the floor with the gaze at the legs, would bring circulation to my brain and both increase alertness and provide a release from anxiety. Calm, measured breathing in a mindful pattern would dissolve anger and fear and return me to the present moment. “Standing mountain”—simply standing in an aligned, balanced manner—would bring composure as well as a sense of strength and valor. All of these activities would remind me that I was sufficient; I was enough in myself and with the universe. Returning to the mat on a regular basis developed, strengthened, and renewed these skills.
Unlike with competitive activities, in yoga I was being taught to explore my physical limits in balance and breath, with love and acceptance for where I was, moment by moment. The philosophy of yoga also intrigued me; my teachers were generous with their time and wisdom. Here, I thought, was another way to look at recovery: with guiding principles, disciplines, and observances that sometimes mirrored, sometimes complemented, and sometimes expanded on what I had been practicing in twelve-step recovery. Both belief systems were founded on the principle of nonharming. In recovery, cessation of the activity or behavior that debilitated you is the first step of nonharming. In life, treating self and others with care and respect is a continuation of that practice. Both systems believe that honesty, open-mindedness, and willingness are keys to a successful journey. Purity or cleanliness—that is, being right with our Higher Power and others—is a daily practice of both yoga and the Fourth Step, as well as the Tenth Step in particular. Finding contentment in daily life can be achieved through gratitude. The discipline of working a daily program of recovery and mindful yoga practice are partners in this journey. Prayer and meditation are integral to both paths, as is working with a teacher or sponsor. Meetings and satsang, or wise company, are suggested. Letting go of control, being in acceptance, and having gratitude become parts of everyday life. In both yoga and twelve-step recovery, being of service, or practicing karma yoga, is vital to both internal growth and communion with your Higher Power.
I was able to use what I had been learning on the mat—to use the postures with controlled breathing and a focused mind to become more self-aware—in my approach to life and self-discovery, and apply the yoga philosophy to enrich my Eleventh Step prayer and meditation beyond measure. I was truly being “rocketed into” what the Big Book (the basic text) of Alcoholics Anonymous (p. 25) describes as the “Fourth Dimension,” one day at a time, one practice at a time, one discovery at a time. Yoga, its roots more than 4,000 years old, helps us to be in life one breath at a time, one pose at a time. The practice and guidance of yoga invite us to leave the ego-self and to discover the essential, authentic self. In recovery, we develop a closer relationship with our Higher Power through a spiritual experience. In yoga, the physical exercises, breath practices, ethical observations, self-discovery, and meditation also lead us into a deeper relationship with the divine. In the practice of both yoga and a twelve-step program we seek to unify the body, mind, and spirit.
I was soon off to the races again, but this time in the enthusiastic pursuit of health. I began studying yoga and yoga philosophy. I became a yoga teacher. I enrolled in workshops and went on retreats to figure out how I could bring the beauty of yoga to those in recovery—those who might also have the curiosity and need that I felt. I am finding more and more people on a similar path, those who love recovery and yoga and who share in the desire to move from the Basic Texts onto the mat and into our true natures.
EXERCISE
FIRST BREATH PRACTICE
Three-Part Yoga Breath (Dirga Pranayama)
The three-part breath is an important technique that promotes relaxation and calming of the mind. It is often the first breath practice to learn in yoga. It moves one into mindful breathing. The benefits in healing or balancing the emotions are also great. When the mind is calm, it can also become clearer. In having the ability to relax, an individual lessens the harmful effects of stress on the body.
Focused three-part yogic breath awareness is often practiced while sitting comfortably in a cross-legged position on the floor, or in a straight-backed chair, though it can also be done while lying flat on the back on