Hot Yoga Topics > Yoga and Grief
I discovered yoga shortly before my boyfriend dumped me; same weekend discovered all my "friends" were down the shore partying with my daughter's father. Communication was complicated with my family. I never felt more alone. At the same time I was going through a breakthrough (or quarter-life-crisis). Practicing yoga with gratitude really helped me realize what I most appreciated, that I wasn’t alone, and helped me focus on personal growth. My two yoga studios became a safe-haven for me that no one could spoil. Sharing a practice, like yoga, that is beyond physical, opened the door for new, meaningful, relationships.
Laura
For you as promised, Alex: The Dead No Not Want Us Dead
The dead do not want us dead;
such petty errors are left for the living.
Nor do they want our mourning.
No gift to them—not rage, not weeping.
Return one of them, any one of them, to the earth,
and look; such foolish skipping,
such telling of bad jokes, such feasting!
Even a cucumber, even a single anise seed: feasting.
—Jane Hirschfield
I heard Jane Hirschfeld read this highly emotional poem which she wrote for Sept 11; it made sense to me that all the rage, anger, despair we felt for those who had died is no gift to the dead. We honor them with our joy.
Rhonda Uretzky, E-RYT
Alex and Laura, I have no experience with yoga and grief butI have been studying research about finding happiness through embracing vulnerabilitywhich seems related; just want you to know I am so touched by the heart felt sharing in your posts above. You are empowering the rest of us by sharing your experiences.
AmyA
I agree Amy. The only thing that ever touches people is your authenticity. It seems that when we are in grief, all the barriers come down and we are completely open; that is what empower others, the sharing of who you really are. Seems so simple to just be who you are at all times, but we do lots of posturing and posing (!) instead. Tears are the most powerful cleanse, for you and for everyone around you. I wonder why we always feel so bad about showing them.
Rhonda Uretzky, E-RYT
It's because we're taught that keeping a stiff upper lip is a sign of strength and that crying in public is somehow shameful or inappropriate because we're showing our vulnerability, which I guess has somehow become equated with "weakness." It seems sick and poisonous to hold all that stuff in and call that strength, but there it is nonetheless.
I have long felt that the source of human pain and suffering is simple misunderstanding and misrepresentation--we do not understand the true motivations of other people's actions because they struggle to hide their vulnerability and recast it as aggression or power. And in the process it gets twisted.
Mary-Rush
It's one of the reasons I'm so excited to be able to teach a hot yoga class--on the mat, our students are at their most vulnerable. And we are there to guide them through a process of self-exploration, of releasing their pain and long-held beliefs about themselves, so that they, too, can see that mat as a space of sanctuary and of fulfillment that arises through vulnerability.
Amy, I would love to hear more about the research you've been working with. And Rhonda, what a beautiful poem.
Mary-Rush
Also, Alex--a poem that helped me with the loss of my friend was "In Blackwater Woods" by Mary Oliver.
It's too long, perhaps, to post here, but I could always bring you the book. It's called American Primitive and is all-around amazing.
Quiet. Contemplative. Poignant. Inspiring.
Mary-Rush
I am surrounded by some wise women. I find that Hot Yoga is an excellent way to physically be with 'me', no talk, just being and allowing the wisdom of my body to facilitate my release of pain, any pain. My body is an amazing machine and it is already equipped with the most sophisticated instrument, ME.
JaneC
Hot Yoga came into my life when I moved home to live with my parents for what turned out to be their their final years. Hot Yoga class became the "quiet zone" for my mind. My advise is to embrace each practice, allow whatever waves of emotions to wash over and through you and do not cheat yourself out of the final Savasana, that is where everything seems to come together.
JuneS
June, I also had similar experience. My mom passed 2 years ago and my dad a little over a month ago. I helped both through the dying process (we were very close). A year ago I lost my brother in law suddenly, he was HUGE in my life and it was devastating. For the year since I've helped my sister through her loss of him. Hot yoga had been an integral part of my life for over 3 years and I know it helped me. I would go as often as possible..min 3x/wk, always going back to them re-centered and ready for whatever would present itself. I remember lying in Savasana many times with tears rolling down my face. Come to think of it just happened again last week. Side note, after my brother in law passed a yr ago, I got my sister to come to a Bikram Lancaster class (where she lives) and she's been going 3 times a week since. :)
katarena
I still cry in so many if the forward bends... I don't even see it coming but it always feels like a great relief. And wow Kat... Losing your brother in law was how your sister found hot yoga. Paths open everywhere ...
Rhonda Uretzky, E-RYT
I took the final exam for my 200HR YRT the day before my father's funeral. I cried before and I cried after, but the panel of teachers assessing me said that I seemed my truest self during that process and that when I spoke about the emotions you can feel in Ustrasana I spoke with genuine emotion. I made up the hours I had missed in training while my father was ill. I made them up over that summer about two months after my husband died. The week I took off of work to do so I mourned more genuinely than I ever could have off my mat at my day job. For me yoga in a time of grief allows an emotional release I would never normally allow myself in a public space.
Paula
Its wonderful to have yoga for the emotional release ...and grief is a powerful emotion that can ebb and flow. I believe there are two different ways of releasing: one is to allow the emotion fully as it passes through your nervous system. The other is to shift your focus onto something that offers you relief. There is no right or wrong way to do anything - you need to feel your own alignment for what you need in the moment. Yoga can actually incorporate both. I have been a great fan of shifting my focus into a place of soothing....and it sounds like your yoga teacher training helped to do this for you - and to allow the full strength of the feeling itself for a limited period of time - which certain of the yoga poses are perfectly suited to do.
I'd like to share this writing about grief that I co-opted from Elizabeth Gilbert; I edited it to apply to my own feelings of grief and loss which came upon me unexpectedly, years after my children were grown, but it was the time I fully realized that my children were never coming back to being children again and my sense of loss was profound:
Grief is a force of energy that comes and goes on its own schedule.
Grief does not obey your plans
Grief will do what it wants, when it wants.
In that regard, Grief has a lot in common with Love.
The only way that I can “handle” Grief, then, is the same way that I “handle” Love — by not “handling” it.
By accepting it, in complete humility.
When Grief comes, it’s like being a tsunami. I am given just enough warning to say, “Oh my god, this is happening RIGHT NOW”
I let it roll through my heart and body and mind, in all its vehemence.
I am willing to feel everything.
I am willing to accept the unacceptable.
The conversation of Grief, then, is one of prayer-and-response.
Grief says: “You will never love anyone the way you loved her.”
And I reply: “I am willing for that to be true.”
Grief says: “She’s gone, and she’s never coming back."
I reply: “I am willing for that to be the reality.
Grief says: “You will never see her skip through the front door after school.”
I say: “I am willing to fully know this."
Grief says: “You will never have access to her childhood joy again.”
I say: “I am willing to let it go.”
Grief says: “You will never hear that baby laugh again.”
I say: “I am willing to listen to this realization.”
Through sheets of tears — I say, “I AM WILLING.”
Grief is not Depression.
Grief is a MOVEMENT — catastrophic and mighty — that you ALLOW to rock you and spin you. Depression is resistance, and resistance is futile.
In the wake of grief. I can feel DESTROYED, but still I am WILLING to accept Grief’s terms
I am willing to accept that I may not ever fully heal from this feeling of loss.
I am willing to be who I am.
With grief, my willingness is my power
And then I am willing to be here for the duration of the mystery of Life and I am willing to be certain that I will move forward in Love.
Rhonda Uretzky, E-RYT
Thank you, Rhonda, quite simply thank you. I do not currently have the words to tell you how deeply that writing spoke to me, but now that you sharing it made a difference.
Paula
You are most welcome, Paula...
Rhonda Uretzky, E-RYT
Every year my boyfriend goes to see a four story wooden phoenix burn to the ground in Phoenixville, Pennsylvania. It represents being born again when you rise from the ashes. This week has pushed me farther then I ever thought I could go and I feel very strong but can't wait to get back to some form of normalcy... Does anyone have any beautiful and empowering stories about how yoga helped them get through a tough time whether it be the loss of a relationship or a loved one?