Befriending the Backbend

by Jessie Jewell

I’m going to guess that nearly everyone who has gone to a yoga class or tried poses seen in a book or online has encountered a posture that feels really hard. It might be that a tight muscle won’t give, standing on one leg causes balance problems, or some part of your anatomy bumps into another part and you can’t breathe.

I remember being in a yoga class when I had been practicing pretty sincerely for about three years.

We were doing urdhva dhanurasana, upward bow pose. As often happened, the teacher would have one person demonstrate while all the other folks in the class looked on.

In this class, I was the one who was supposed to demonstrate the pose. I dutifully followed the instructions and pushed my way up into the shape.

The teacher asked, “How does it feel?”

“It hurts,” I said.

“Where?”

“Everywhere,” and I crashed to the ground.

Often in a group yoga class, we’re moving relatively quickly from posture to posture as the teacher tries to maintain a certain flow and keep the class coherent. Rarely is there time to dive deeply into a posture and explore the nuances of breath and anatomy.

This is one reason I like to say, “Try this at home!” In your own space, you can take the time needed to explore one posture, one flow, a way of breathing, or a chant with depth—and, in so doing, discover the joy and wonder of being in your very own body.

This is exactly what I’ve done with urdhva dhanurasana. Practicing it, I go very slowly. Each step becomes significant, beginning with simply sitting down with my knees bent.

Take a breath.

Come onto the back, keeping the knees bent.

Breathe again.

Look around. Look at the ceiling. Feel for the heels of the feet.

Breathe.

After coming to terms with lying on the back, the next step is just to lift the arms, with the hands reaching toward the ceiling. Then bend the elbows and place the hands on the ground, with the fingertips underneath the shoulders, pointing toward the feet. Here, I feel the tight muscles of my upper arms.

Breathe a little more.

No rushing. No pushing. I tell myself if this is all I do, it’s enough. But the relaxed pace usually invites further exploration.

The next thing to do is pull the arm bones into the shoulder sockets, reach the outer shoulders toward the ground, and squeeze the shoulder blades a little closer. As this happens, I notice how the upper chest lifts and the front body gets longer. This is good. This is the general shape for backbending.

Exploring the arm placement, I find it’s helpful to have the hands slightly closer to the head than the elbows. In fact, I like to let the elbows go a bit wide here to allow the shoulder blades to push more firmly against the upper back.

Breathe.

Turn the toes in slightly to bring a bit of internal rotation to the femurs, broaden the back of the pelvis, and allow space for the tailbone and lower spine to move. Then I hang out here for a bit.

Breathing, of course.

As I watch what arises, sometimes there’s a sensation in the body, and sometimes it’s something deeper—an emotion. Sometimes it gets really scary here.

So, just keep breathing.

When the emotions settle or the tightness softens, the next move is to push up—but just a little. Maybe a few inches. Or maybe just in the mind. Really, imagining the next step of a posture is a great way to work your way toward doing it. Don’t rush this step.

If you decide to try it in the body, press down through your hands and feet and lift up. As the front body lifts, the back body arches. You might rest the crown of your head as lightly as possible on the floor. Your heels may lift so that tightness in your legs is bearable.

Breathe here. Maybe once. Maybe twice. Maybe three times.

Then stop. Lie down, place your hands on your belly. Let your nerves settle. Let your body stop vibrating. Let your heartbeat slow down.

Notice: Do you want to try it again? Or, if you want to stop, what is asking you to stop—the body, the mind, or both?

If you decide to try again, begin with as much care and awareness as the first time.

Press into your hands and feet and lift. Perhaps the crown of your head lightly touches the floor for a moment, and then you push a little higher. Maybe.

Your heels may still be lifted. Or can you lower them a little? Perhaps all the way to the floor? Either way is absolutely fine. Either way, you are a good person.

If you lift higher, move your upper chest forward—away from your feet—some amount.

Breathe.

If the posture becomes painful, notice where—everywhere? Come back to the ground.

In the shoulders? Can you pull the arm bones deeper into the shoulder sockets? Can you squeeze your shoulder blades a little closer? Does that help?

Then come on down, place your hands on your belly, and breathe.

You may have noticed that backbends tend to quicken the heartbeat. They also use considerable strength, so your body may be a bit shaky.

The breath probably got shorter—that’s normal. Notice this and allow it to lengthen again.

Maybe you stop here. Or maybe you think three is the magic number, and you’ll do one more. If so, wait until your body and breath have settled, and then begin again.

Go through each step.

Place your hands. Place your feet. Move the shoulders down and the shoulder blades in. Feel the heart lift.

Breathe.

Push through your hands and feet.

Breathe.

Maybe the crown of your head lightly touches the ground, or maybe it lifts. Maybe the heels are lifted, or maybe they come closer to—or all the way down to—the ground. Maybe the chest extends a little farther forward as the shoulder blades hold the back of the heart space firmly and tenderly.

Don’t decide beforehand what has to happen. Be the observer of what happens.

After as many breaths as you can take comfortably, bring yourself back down to the ground. Keep your knees bent and the soles of your feet on the floor. Place your hands on your belly and let everything settle again.

You’ve done enough. Wrap your arms around yourself and have a hug!

Breathe.

You may still have more practice to do. Perhaps you will follow the backbend with a twist. The twist with a forward fold. Sure, keep going if you have the time. However, be sure to acknowledge that you did something hard for you. You explored this posture with the care called for in ahimsa, the curiosity of svadhyaya, and the honesty of satya.

This is yoga.

When we practice slowly and honestly, we discover subtle nuances that we easily miss when we push too hard or move too fast.

When you take your time in a posture like urdhva dhanurasana, you can feel the tightness—and then feel the moment when the tightness lets go just a little. Ahh!

You may hear a gurgle in your intestines as you stretch the abdominal cavity. Aha!

You may feel the shoulder blades pressing into the back and lifting the heart. Wow!

The awareness of these sensations in the body can be utterly joyful. This joy is the fuel we need to keep showing up on the mat.

Part of what makes this exploration possible is learning to organize the body through the bones before asking the muscles to open. We create a stable foundation, notice where we are holding tightness, and give the muscles time to release.

Learning to do a posture that is hard takes time and effort, qualities of our celestial friend Saturn. Saturn brings us the karmas that require hard work and time to master. As we show up for our practice—in good times and not-so-good times, even when time is tight—we are building a friendlier relationship with our own Saturn karma that needs to be met with patience and persistence.

My teacher Kim used to tell me, “You have to learn how to trust yourself.”

This is how. We pause. We breathe. We listen and respond honestly and kindly. Each time we do—whether we push up or come down—we become a little more trustworthy to ourselves.