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Balance

How to Find Your Drishti in Times of Uncertainty

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The secret to finding my equilibrium wasn’t in becoming more grounded, it was in the big Pacific Ocean.

Any type of drishti will ultimately have you experiencing two of the eight limbs of yoga described by Patanjali.

Balance has never been my strong suit. As a child, my vestibular system was so off kilter, I spontaneously fell off stools and chairs like a pint-sized barfly after last call. Walking through doorways was like threading a needle. Physical therapy helped, but the gangly coltishness of adolescence made for another round of clumsy bumps and bruises.

When I got into yoga in my teens and twenties, it was a relief when my teachers asked us to find drishti—a fixed point against which to orient my body and mind while trying to stick tricky balance poses such as Natarajasana (Lord of the Dance Pose), Parivrtta Ardha Chandrasana (Revolved Half Moon Pose), and Vrksasana (Tree Pose). Finding an external concentration point made it easier to keep my body steady and stable. Or at the very least, it made it easier to detect when I was about to tip over.

See also See More Clearly By Practicing Drishti

As an adult, I struggled to find balance of a different sort. I was as lacking in emotional equilibrium as I had been in grace as a child. My twenties were a murky gyre of unsuitable men, anxiety, depression, and more whiskey than I’d like to admit. It wasn’t that I lacked focus—I simply couldn’t seem to find the right thing to fix my ambitions upon. Every wobble, whether in love or work or family life, made me doubt myself a little more.

A few years ago, I visited Los Angeles for the first time as an adult. At 28-years-old, I wasn’t just wobbling, I was reeling, fresh off the revelation that I had been assaulted a decade ago. My career and fortune had taken a sudden left turn, and I left marketing to begin writing full time. I was a raw nerve, loose on the Venice boardwalk, trying to find some sense of equilibrium. One night I found myself drawn to the water. Under the light of a full moon, I waded into the Pacific and let the warm salt water lap against my legs, then my hips. The pull I felt had nothing to do with riptides or undertow. Instead I was compelled by something that came from within.

The Three Types of Drishti

Drishti isn’t just a matter of finding an external point against which to balance your body. There are several different types recommended for various yoga practices and poses: 

1. Nasagra drishti

Nasagra drishti is focus on the tip of the nose, and it may come in handy during backbends or forward folds. 

2. Hastagre drishti

Hastagre drishti (focus on your hand in front of you) is lovely in Virabhadrasana I (Warrior Pose I) or Utthita Parsvakonasana (Extended Side Angle Pose). 

3. Bhrumadhya drishti

Bhrumadhya drishti is the most inward facing, in which you focus on your own third eye.

See also
4 Ways to Improve Your Drishti (Gaze) and Deepen Your Practice

Any type of drishti will ultimately have you experiencing two of the eight limbs of yoga described by Patanjali. One is dharana (steadiness or concentration) and the other is pratyahara (controlled withdrawal). The goal of softly focusing your gaze—whether on the tip of your nose or on a spot on the wall across the room—is actually to draw your attention inward. You look beyond your body in order to withdraw into it. Your spirit becomes grounded through the act of surrendering to your own instability.

Ever since that first night in Los Angeles, I find myself drawn to the Pacific at moments of great transition. Last year, I wanted to flee the anniversary of a yuletide breakup that had marred the holidays. I booked a flight to San Francisco and spent Christmas morning sitting on a piece of driftwood at Ocean Beach, watching the surfers patiently bobbing on the small, ruffled waves, popping up to balance on their boards whenever a big curl came through.

This past April, a dear friend came to visit me at my new home in Portland, Oregon. She and I went through twin years of loss in 2017: Breakups, professional setbacks, and domestic frustrations. Both of us were trying to recalibrate our lives to a new normal.

See also Find Focus with Drishti — Leah Cullis Shows You How

Hannah had never seen the Pacific, so I drove her out to Haystack Rock one chilly, gray afternoon. We walked up and down Cannon Beach, buffeted by rivers of wind that carved winding paths through the loose, dry sand. We contemplated the ways in which our own lives had been radically reshaped by unpredictable forces. Deeply and utterly, we felt the kernels of ourselves within the tides of chaos.

Right now, writing by the Pacific, overlooking the Santa Monica Pier, I feel another sea change coming on. Old pieces of me are washing and wearing away. But practice has taught me what I need to do to prepare, to weather this tipping point. Up and down the West Coast, I know now where to find my focus, my drishti, a sense of continuity. There is stability in the Pacific’s constant motion. There is certainty in its immutable changes. Of this I am certain: the same is true of myself.

See also Master Class: How to Incorporate Drishti Into Vinyasa Flow

About our author

Meghan O’Dea is a writer, world traveler, and life-long learner who hopes to visit all seven continents with pen and paper in tow. Her work has been featured in the Washington Post, Fortune, and more. Learn more at meghanodea.com.



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Balance

Yoga Helped Clare Cui Find Peace In Her Body

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Weightlifting was wreaking havoc on my body and spirit—until I found yoga.

Clare Cui

I couldn’t see much in the darkness, but I could smell the tanning oil that covered the toned bodies of women who were nervously clustered together in lines waiting to take the stage. As I stood there in my group, my number pinned to my bikini, I looked down at my body, which I had beat into peak physical condition, and I still didn’t like what I saw. I’m sure I looked confident in my own skin, but what I really wanted to do was to crawl out of it.

I know there are countless women who feel self-conscious about a little squish on their belly or thighs—wondering what new workout or crash diet to try—constantly worrying about making “healthy” decisions around food and exercise. For a long time, I was no different. I was insecure and constantly pursuing the “perfect” body. It was a race that I was never going to win. I was inundated by negative messages in a culture where validation, praise, and value relied on placing in competition. I couldn’t get out of the get-up-and-grind mentality. This chiseled body that kept garnering praise became an addiction.

That is exactly why—despite the three first-place fitness titles I had earned that year—I was left waging a secret war against myself and my body. In that moment in the darkness backstage, my soul was sending out an SOS. I knew something was wrong.

See also Is Social Media Wrecking Your Body Image?

I left that competition and tried to go back to my life as the head strength and conditioning coach at a Denver public high school. I vowed to let go of superficial goals, obsessive negative self-talk, counting calories, incessant workouts, and all-consuming anxiety about what I looked like on stage. This spaciousness in my thoughts was a welcome breath of fresh air, but it also felt strange and empty. Without competition, I craved focus, so I threw myself into fostering strength in others, helping students to rid themselves of pain and reach their physical goals. 

My students had restricted movement from ailments such as torn ACLs and back problems. I grew fascinated by how the body moves and how rigidity causes all sorts of problems. Health wasn’t just about strength. I was discovering another piece of the puzzle: Flexibility—both physically and mentally—was critical. Bulldozing my way through competitions on shear strength and willpower like I had been was killing me because I didn’t have the flexibility of mind to take days off and let my body recover.

I could see that my clients’ mindsets were determining their recoveries. Some of them were stubborn, stuck on one way of doing things, forcing the same approach over and over again with few results. I saw them like a mirror, exposing my own flaws. Rigidity wasn’t working, for them or for me. We need strength to overcome our challenges, but also flexibility to pivot when things aren’t working the way we want them to.

See also Kat Fowler on Embracing Yoga and Conquering Self-Doubt

Fueled by a desire to learn more about increasing flexibility, I walked into a power yoga teacher training having never taken a yoga class. Halfway through class, covered in sweat, I was falling on my face attempting Bakasana. My inner strength coach had been beaten into submission by how much I had underestimated the whole “yoga thing,” and something unexpected happened: I found myself deeply in love with asana practice.

I’d huff and puff my way through vinyasa classes, where each pose got me closer to answering the aching question: How do I stop fighting with my body? I had long approached my fitness routine as a tool to punish myself into a better body—one that mirrored the standardized images I saw in the media. Through yoga, this armor slowly started to come off. Each time I attempted to slow down and soften into a pose, using my strength to support my body rather than demand a result from it, I could feel myself deeply listening to what was going to heal instead of hurt me. I began to witness the compassion and kindness toward myself that I had been missing for years.

Yes, the intelligent placement of my bones and muscles in space supported my strength. But this magical organization of my walking meat sack got me in tune with so much more than any fad diet ever had. Instead of regarding my body as an obstacle in the way of a shiny new trophy, through yoga I realized that this awareness in my body meant that I was the trophy.

See also The Avoidance Mechanisms We Have to Face In Order To Heal

I no longer saw my shoulders as something that needed more shaping, but a beloved elevator to lift me higher in Handstands and inspire courage and confidence. Now, I absolutely won’t deny that yoga and strength training have toned my backside. But what I flex (no pun intended) regularly with my yoga tools is not a physical muscle, but an internal one. The skills of softening, deep listening, and presence were dormant and weak before I found yoga. These mind muscles allow me to see the shapes my body makes without focusing on what it looks like externally. I can now focus on what it feels like from the inside of the pose.

I’ve become more in tune with a source of joy and wholeness that doesn’t come from a judge or a medal. It comes from deep within. Real confidence comes from an internal knowing that we are worthy, beautiful, and whole—no matter what shape we take. 

See also Jessamyn Stanley on Moving Beyond Body Positivity

About the author

Clare Cui is a Denver-based yoga teacher with more than 12 years of experience in strength training. Her passion is supporting career women and business leaders to create the strength in their bodies and minds to show up confidently in their own skin. Find her at theyogathlete.com and @clare_cui on Instagram.



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Balance

The Avoidance Mechanisms We Have to Face In Order To Heal

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This new awareness made me realize that if you don’t pull out tension by the roots, it just migrates elsewhere—that boiling water has to let off steam somewhere.

I learned about “release valves” in a teacher training a couple of years ago. We were working in groups, observing other students’ mobility and looking for dysfunctional movement patterns. For example, when one of my classmates shifted into Uttanasana (Standing Forward Fold), you could see that her hips were excessively rotating while her spine seemed awkwardly rigid. She was able to reach her toes because, instead of sharing the load, her flexible hips were doing the work for her stiff back. I quickly started to notice how my own body was compensating for areas that were too tight, too lax, or uncomfortable.

The teacher of that particular training, Gary Kraftsow—a yoga therapist and founder of the American Viniyoga Institute—calls these compensatory release valves “avoidance mechanisms.” They help us understand which parts of us we’ve been neglecting—out of pain, weakness, injury, numbness, shame, or fear.

See also Yoga Therapy: Need to Know

All of a sudden, I started to pay attention to all of the things I had been evading in my life. I noticed I had release valves at the office. I would sit through a meeting, quietly stewing about a decision I didn’t agree with, then head to my desk, venting ungracefully to anyone I ran into. I’m not proud. I was avoiding confrontation and compensating for it with toxic negativity. At home, I kept conversations about money at arm’s length. Ashamed about my debt, I preferred to hide expenses and not ask for help.

This new awareness made me realize that if you don’t pull out tension by the roots, it just migrates elsewhere—that boiling water has to let off steam.

See also 30 Yoga Sequences to Reduce Stress

This issue of the 2019 July/August magazine is steeped in yoga therapy and the myriad ways the practice can help us identify, confront, and heal our wounds so they don’t get infected and derail our lives. The term “yoga therapy” has an official definition: According to the International Association of Yoga Therapists (IAYT), it is “the process of empowering individuals to progress toward improved health and well-being through the application of the teachings and practices of yoga.” Here, we’ve collaborated with both IAYT-certified and non-IAYT-certified teachers to share asana, mantra, meditation, and pranayama that can help you beat addiction (yes, your iPhone habits count), manage pain, face fears, calm your nervous system, protect your lower back, and connect to your true Self. We tap Ayurvedic psychology, medical research, and the wisdom of therapists and senior teachers for guidance on how to feel healthy and whole. 

See also Why More Western Doctors Are Now Prescribing Yoga Therapy

Prescribed reading also includes a look at how the yoga program at Rady Children’s Hospital in San Diego is helping kids and their families cope with cancer; inquiry into whether your health insurance covers yoga; transformative reader-submitted stories about yoga’s power to ease depression, trauma, and anxiety; advice for navigating big change; thoughts on how restorative yoga can help heal race-related wounds; and the importance of vulnerability.

As soon as I started to recognize release valves, or coping mechanisms, everywhere—on my mat, in my day-to-day behavior, and in other people—curiosity and contemplation became constant companions. Sometimes my experiments and homemade remedies fail and I can’t figure out how to dissolve my headaches, quell anxious thoughts, or recover from clumsy conversations, but I feel better for trying. Yoga, particularly breathwork, has become the salve I need to persevere. The relief that comes from embodying balance, creating space to feel my feelings, and finding the courage to speak my truth has started to heal me from the inside out.

See also 5 Yogis Using Their Practice to Heal On The Mat



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Advanced Yoga Sequences

Yoga for Diabetes: 12 Poses and a Meditation to Mitigate Stress

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Use this sequence to find refuge from the clutches of chronic illness.

Evan Soroka

Resting is hard for me. I would rather be on the go, overcoming hurdles or realizing my life vision. However, it’s difficult to achieve creative goals without rest, introspection, and relaxation. The same is true in diabetes care. If you have diabetes, like me, you’re constantly connected to your continuous glucose monitor, personal diabetes manager, or insulin pump. People with this condition are plugged into a monitor to stay alive, and blood glucose readings get mixed up with who we think we are and we lose our sense of self. Every arrow on the screen, every deviation up or down leaves a residue of subtle negative emotion in the landscape of the body and mind, making it impossible to relax, because every misstep can have potentially deadly consequences.

Any person facing modern technological advances suffers a great deal from similar mind spin; diabetes is just the microcosm of the macrocosm. The disease simply accentuates the detrimental distractions that people face without diabetes. Mental fluctuations are influenced by external and internal factors. For instance, a blood glucose reading of 400 mg/dL (very high!) can be a catalyst for thoughts that can spiral out of control because of past negative experiences—any number outside of normal range may cause you to remember the last time your glucose was too high and how awful you felt. Even more subtle than the thought is the impression left by the event. You may carry judgmental guilt, stew in the past, fret about what you should have done, worry about the long-term effects, or whatever the story may be. When the mind spins, we often react instead of respond. On a physiological level, the nervous system is in overdrive. A heightened state of arousal (being on guard) sends internal alarms into hyper-mode. Our brains tell our bodies that there’s an emergency, pumping stress hormones such as cortisol, adrenaline, and glycogen into the bloodstream. The unintentional effect is insulin resistance (resulting in increased blood sugar), making diabetes much harder to manage. The cumulative result of this vicious cycle is distress, anxiety, and depression.

See also Why More Western Doctors Are Now Prescribing Yoga Therapy

Evan Soroka

There is a saying in the diabetes community that we are greater than the sum of the highs and lows. What this means is that although you may have diabetes, you are not diabetes. This may make sense on a cognitive level; however, it cannot be fully understood and integrated into your life until it is realized directly through practice. The sage Patanjali writes about mind chatter in the Yoga Sutra as chitta vritti—fluctuations of consciousness. A goal of yoga is to nullify these fluctuations so that you can rest in your own self-essence, free of all conditions. Yoga intervention practices can stop the spinning cycle, calming the mind and promoting your natural ability to regenerate, heal, and process unwanted emotion. I have type 1 diabetes, and although, as a yoga therapist, I prescribe different exercises for different types of diabetes, the yoga therapy practice on the following pages will benefit anyone who is living with a chronic illness. It promotes an exciting mix of energies—some stimulating and some pacifying—to help you self regulate and balance out the highs and lows.

People with type 1 diabetes cannot produce insulin, a hormone secreted by the pancreas that transports energy from food into the body’s cells. They need to take insulin to avoid complications from hyper-glycemia. Insulin can be administered with a pump or an injection pen.

Sequence – Mitigate Your Response to Stress

See also A 5-Minute Meditation to Release Anxiety

About our author

Teacher and Model Evan Soroka is a yoga therapist living with type I diabetes in Aspen, Colorado. She is the owner of Evan Soroka Yoga Therapy, founder of the Rise Above Diabetes Program, and a contributor to Yoga Journal and Yoga International. She received her extensive credentials from Gary Kraftsow and the American Viniyoga Institute. Evan continues to study under the guidance and mentorship of Yogarupa Rod Stryker. Learn more at evansoroka.com



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