Over the past month or so, I've been attending classes teaching aerial yoga. It is something that has made me think about my body and its relationship to the earth in new ways. This weekend I attended two workshops that solely focused on aerial practices. Grounding my body through flying might seem contradictory, but through these workshops, I started to understand how flying suspended and weightless provided interesting moments of clarity in understanding how my body settles into the earth.
I have always enjoyed the sensation of being upside down, so I have relished the moments in the aerial fabrics in which I can weave my legs through the material and rest my hands on the ground. To feel my spine stretch, I have been learning to let go in new ways. I have also been realizing how much I unconsciously hold on to spaces such as my hips and shoulders. I have also been realizing that no matter how much I think I let go, there is still so much more I can let go of. The loosening involved in inversions has provided a clearer sense of how my body shrinks in on itself, hiding and tightening not only when confronting moments of uncertainty, but also out of sheer habit.
In those upside down moments I also get to put my hands on the ground and let them be my feet. Pressing into the ground, my hands feel the solid ground with a sense of safety and comfort. I can feel my shoulders adjust to the new pressure points, sinking into the earth with a strange experience of comfortable disorientation. It is a truly beautiful experience that my body absorbs with a great deal of joy.
There were two wonderful moments during the workshop that helped me find my body in a new way. The first was when we were in a position similar to the picture above. Feeling the fabric across the middle of my back, I was able to lean into it. My feet sank with deeper intention into the ground and my core held its center with new found commitment in order to keep me from spinning off to the side. Using my core in this way helped me focus in on opening the center of my spine in a way that is often unavailable to me in a wheel position. The opening was very much like the sun breaking open and I could feel my heart give and receive with little restraint. It was enlivening and incredibly joyful.
In the second moment, I was hanging from the fabric as it rested at my hip bones. The fabric sort of cutting me in half. My head was toward the ground and my legs were bent into my stomach. The instructor kept telling us to let go of our legs completely. I thought I had let them go; I felt relaxed. But she came to me and touched my legs gently near my hips and I could feel the tremendous amount of holding that was still in my body. As comfortable as I am upside down, my body wasn't ready to let go, but then I could feel the muscles slowly loosen more and more, opening up to the earth in a new way. Yes, only the backs of my hands were gently touching the ground, and not my legs, but I could feel my body melt into the earth in a way that I can't describe. Giving myself up to the fabric left me feeling more grounded and connected the earth than I had felt in awhile. It didn't matter that my feet weren't on the ground. What mattered was the way I could feel the earth cradling me even if I was suspended above it. What mattered was the way I could let go and trust the earth beneath me as the fabric cradled me.
Yes, autumn is the time of grounding. It is a time when we feel airy and untethered. Although I do not advocate exacerbating that feeling, the experience of aerial, with a clear intention of opening and grounding, has been an incredibly powerful way to access some of the darker places that are often buried and untouched over the course of autumn's winds. I'll take aerial yoga as a welcome breath of fresh air.
I have always enjoyed the sensation of being upside down, so I have relished the moments in the aerial fabrics in which I can weave my legs through the material and rest my hands on the ground. To feel my spine stretch, I have been learning to let go in new ways. I have also been realizing how much I unconsciously hold on to spaces such as my hips and shoulders. I have also been realizing that no matter how much I think I let go, there is still so much more I can let go of. The loosening involved in inversions has provided a clearer sense of how my body shrinks in on itself, hiding and tightening not only when confronting moments of uncertainty, but also out of sheer habit.
In those upside down moments I also get to put my hands on the ground and let them be my feet. Pressing into the ground, my hands feel the solid ground with a sense of safety and comfort. I can feel my shoulders adjust to the new pressure points, sinking into the earth with a strange experience of comfortable disorientation. It is a truly beautiful experience that my body absorbs with a great deal of joy.
There were two wonderful moments during the workshop that helped me find my body in a new way. The first was when we were in a position similar to the picture above. Feeling the fabric across the middle of my back, I was able to lean into it. My feet sank with deeper intention into the ground and my core held its center with new found commitment in order to keep me from spinning off to the side. Using my core in this way helped me focus in on opening the center of my spine in a way that is often unavailable to me in a wheel position. The opening was very much like the sun breaking open and I could feel my heart give and receive with little restraint. It was enlivening and incredibly joyful.
In the second moment, I was hanging from the fabric as it rested at my hip bones. The fabric sort of cutting me in half. My head was toward the ground and my legs were bent into my stomach. The instructor kept telling us to let go of our legs completely. I thought I had let them go; I felt relaxed. But she came to me and touched my legs gently near my hips and I could feel the tremendous amount of holding that was still in my body. As comfortable as I am upside down, my body wasn't ready to let go, but then I could feel the muscles slowly loosen more and more, opening up to the earth in a new way. Yes, only the backs of my hands were gently touching the ground, and not my legs, but I could feel my body melt into the earth in a way that I can't describe. Giving myself up to the fabric left me feeling more grounded and connected the earth than I had felt in awhile. It didn't matter that my feet weren't on the ground. What mattered was the way I could feel the earth cradling me even if I was suspended above it. What mattered was the way I could let go and trust the earth beneath me as the fabric cradled me.
Yes, autumn is the time of grounding. It is a time when we feel airy and untethered. Although I do not advocate exacerbating that feeling, the experience of aerial, with a clear intention of opening and grounding, has been an incredibly powerful way to access some of the darker places that are often buried and untouched over the course of autumn's winds. I'll take aerial yoga as a welcome breath of fresh air.
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