Getting My Foot Behind My Head

Photos via Pinterest.

"Practice and all is coming." 
-Pattabhi Jois


I've discovered a yoga gem in Evanston: the Dharma Yoga studio on Emerson Street. I love the way I feel after a class there: open, loose, lighthearted.


The people are friendly, and even as a newcomer I can tell that the yogis who practice here make up a loving community. They respect each other, and the space, as they come together to practice. 


The teachers lead with grace and enthusiasm, and the flow includes postures I've never attempted before. It has been exciting to try new asanas -- I feel lucky to be expanding my practice, building strength, finding new flexibility, and learning to let go of fear toward new experiences.


Recently, I was equally as surprised as I was curious to discover I can pretty much bring my foot behind my head!



We were about half way through class, and had spent a good portion of the warm up preparing our hips to open. I felt good during the low lunges and swan pose, breathing into the lower back and asking my hips to let go of tension.



Then we moved to lay on our backs on the floor, proceeding with wind removing pose and similar stretches and working our way up to something about like this:


The movements felt pretty comfortable, stretches I had done before. Nothing outrageously challenging. But then the teacher asked us to reach behind the knee, moving the shoulder farther under the leg. All of a sudden, my neighbor yogi had his toes up near his forehead, inching them closer to the outer edge of his neck.

Half-astonished, I tried to let go of my associations about how hard this posture is, tried not to get too caught up in the fact that I was attempting it, and instead tried to track the other yogi's movements, mirroring him. I used my abs to lift my head off the floor (nose to knee), and felt my foot getting close.

"Good!" the teacher said, walking over. "You're almost there." She helped lift my body the last few inches, and I smiled. My foot was behind my head.

In only lasted for a few moments, but it was a glorious introduction to Eka Pada Sirsasana.


Half of me wanted to laugh at how absurd my body felt in the posture (seeing my hips that close to my face was a bit odd!), and the other half of me felt giddy, my heart pumping, energy flowing freely. It was similar to the first time I pulled off crow pose and felt like I had learned to fly -- the world seemed brighter, my own confidence boosted, my heart and spine light and expansive.

The thought crossed my mind: if I can do this pose, I can handle whatever is thrown at me in class. And, promptly thereafter: holy crap I just got my leg behind my head?! Sweeeeet. :)

I have to say, looking back on it: I'm glad I didn't know what was coming next. I'm glad I didn't have time to second guess myself, or think too hard about putting my foot behind my head. Because I was fully experiencing beginner's mind, and because I was fully immersed in the present moment, I had no choice but to keep moving forward. I didn't resist the posture. I let it shape me.

 

You can bet I'll be practicing foot-behind-the-head pose again soon, happily working toward the day that having my feet in such a crazy place feels like second nature. 

Have you done  Eka Pada Sirsasana before? How did you get there? How does the pose make you feel? I'd love to hear your thoughts, and any recommendations on getting deeper into the pose!

PS Kathryn Budig's guide to the posture.