Musings UNRAVELING RESISTANCE IN MY JOURNEY TO TRUTH SARIKA S. GUPTA
I expect that few journeys are what we imagine, and often when someone is at peace, a journey can be a welcome adventure. Navigating my fertility journey, however, has not been easy. I began studying Iyengar Yoga in 2008 following knee surgery. Along with gaining full movement in my knee, I learned to swiftly ground myself in breath and movement and assumed my practice would support me as I moved into the next phase of my life: starting a family. Pregnancy eluded us as we approached 39, however. We had been trying to conceive for nearly a decade and were told we had no significant health issues. Multiple miscarriages added layers of grief that we are still teasing apart. Around this time, I applied for a teacher training program, committed to finding a path forward for myself and perhaps eventually offering yoga as a way to encourage and cultivate well-being in women who were struggling with fertility issues like me. I believed yoga could potentially help me conceive, despite my difficulties thus far.
While I knew intellectually how to do this, my physical body resisted. I rolled out my mat each day, yet I avoided the space. My first clue that I was attempting to escape came shortly after I read The Tree of Yoga by B.K.S. Iyengar. This wasn’t our homework, but out of curiosity, I opened the text and read the first page of the first chapter (“Yoga Is One”) until I came to this: “Ninety percent of us are suffering in some way, physically, mentally, or spiritually.” I was hooked and dove into the rest of the book, hopeful I would uncover an unfamiliar pose or a sequence that would resolve my sorrow and lead me to pregnancy. I underlined, wrote notes, and dog-eared passages into the wee hours of the night rather than observe and acknowledge this extreme fluctuation. Suffice it to say, I did not arrive at my desired outcome and instead felt my sorrow growing.
Our Iyengar Yoga–based teacher training consisted of four long weekends over a six-month period. Under the guidance, skillful teaching, and mentorship of several senior certified teachers, we immersed ourselves in yoga philosophy, history, asana, pranayama, dhyana, and teaching methodologies.
The notion of resistance emerged again during pranayama. Practicing Ujjayi I, I recall gasping for air. Moving into action, I searched for room in my body to retain more air. As my inhalation grew, my exhalations grew shorter, shallower, and eventually led me to sit up in a panic. I had jumped to the idea of a balanced in and out breath without taking steps to stabilize the foundation.
We began our philosophical journey by reading Yoga Sutras II.29–II.48. One resonated: II.36 satyapratisthayam kriyaphalasrayarvam: “When the sadhaka is firmly established in the practice of truth, his words become so potent that whatever he says comes to realization.” After years of trying to have a baby, my body and mind were overwhelmed and distracted by sorrow (dukkha) and unsteadiness (angamejayatva). I began thinking, “Are these mental states holding me back from becoming pregnant?”
A third clue emerged during my daily inversion practice. I used a block to support my sacrum in Setu Bhanda Sarvangasana and felt lower back pain. I could no longer straighten my legs as I had once been able to in this asana. I didn’t change my practice, however, and was determined to push through to the desired outcome. The pain (not surprisingly in hindsight) increased, and I fell ill with the flu shortly thereafter. Was the pain an indication of the oncoming illness? And why did I chose to ignore it?
I was eager to minimize these afflictions through intensive study and practice. However, I had no idea that, the more I studied, older afflictions related to my parents’ relationship would resurface alongside the newer infertility-related ones that were clamoring for attention. I also had no idea that in trying to escape or resist my feelings (rather than observe or acknowledge them), I was fanning the flames within.
A final realization that I was in resistance mode surfaced during a conversation with my husband. He was pursuing his MBA and felt overwhelmed. As someone who spent a lot of time in school, working full time while taking multiple classes, I was confident I could support him. (Red flag: Ego!) He expressed frustration about workload, and I immediately put on my “professor” hat (again: Ego alert!), as if I were talking with one of my graduate students. I asked if it might help to pace the work over the next week. Quickly he said no and
Yoga Samachar Spring | Summer 2019
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