Musings: Unraveling Resistance in My Journey to Truth – Sarika S. Gupta

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.

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.

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?”

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.

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.

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.

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?

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

with a seemingly instant focus, he began and eventually completed his

work. I was awestruck. He made it look so easy. What wasn’t visible to me was the

Sarika attempts Vrksasana while snowshoeing on Mont Tremblant near Montreal.

discipline (tapas) and self-study (svadhyaya) he had been cultivating to observe his own mental and emotional state, still any fluctuations, and carry out his intention.

SEEKING TRUTH THROUGH RESISTANCE

Kahlil Gibran said, “Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.” I think the notion of opposing and uniting conditions can also be seen in the Yoga Sutras. In Sutras II:33–34, Patanjali talks about recognizing the opposing conditions, paksa and pratipaksa, and using the practice of yoga to measure, balance, and unite them within. We use asana as a vehicle to access the physical body, which helps us cultivate a temperament and practice to unify opposition in breath (pranayama).

While I knew intellectually how to do this, my physical body resisted. I rolled out my mat each day, yet I avoided the space. I clung to past memories (dharana and dhyana) hoping that one phrase, one pose, one cycle of pranayama would trigger “muscle memory” of prior contentment and self-awareness, efficiently removing me from my uncomfortable sorrow and unsteadiness. It became clear that I was empowering my ego by pushing myself to create inner action without properly grounding my body (and mind). No wonder my body was expressing anger through pain. How arrogant of me to believe that I could “jump to higher stages of practice without first establishing a firm foundation through the primary steps of yoga” (Sutra III.6). How selfish of me to believe a prior physical and emotional state would bring kaivalya in this difficult journey.

Yet there is an important truth in acknowledging our resistance. The question for me as a student became: What happens when I resist what I might learn through yogasana? I further wondered, as a teacher, how I could encourage my students to safely confront fear and build compassion into their practice? (ahisma) and living in truth (satya) by not doing asana when you are not well.” Several weeks later during a weekend philosophy discussion, my teachers posed the question: What qualities do we need to cultivate to maintain equanimity? I realized then that I had been harming myself by enabling a fluctuating citta rather than encouraging it to rest.

B.K.S. Iyengar said, “Your body is your temple and asanas are your prayers. First, we build a sound temple, then we open the windows and pray” (Iyengar: His Life and Work). I surrendered to my truth (ishvara pranidhana) during the following asana practice. I was holding my breath in an attempt to resist the sorrow that was building during Salamba Sarvangasana I. I exhaled and released the welling tears, coming down slowly to confront my truth. We were struggling with fertility, and it was possible we would never have biological children. I set an intention to first make movements to accurately place the body, then create inner action to express the pose. I chose in that moment of truth to rebuild my temple before I prayed.

If yoga is the union of mind and body, practicing yoga means honoring and accepting where the mind, body, and soul are at in the present moment. In setting the intention above, I invited myself to get to know and observe my body, mind, and breath as it was, rather than how it used to be or could be. Over time, I learned to welcome the richness of exploring and practicing the yogic principles from yama to dhyana (see Sutra II.29). I also now see my practice as an empowering path forward in the steadfast effort to still the fluctuations (Sutra I.13) and meet our resistance without judgment.

Many people still ask, “So are you planning to have a family?” I could resist the potential for pain in this question and offer that I remain cautiously optimistic that we will get pregnant. But the truth is we may not. I choose instead to continue practicing with the intention of cultivating discrimination to see things as they are, thereby freeing my mind from the “hellish to-ing and fro-ing” this journey has introduced into our lives (Sutra II.25).

What qualities do we need to cultivate equanimity? A compassionate and sustained practice led me toward the inner stability that is my “luminous, sorrowless light” (Sutra I.36). To others, I humbly offer that the answer (and your truth) likely lies in a devoted practice within an uncertain and uncomfortable journey.

Sarika S. Gupta is a student at Unity Woods Yoga Center in Bethesda, MD, and at the Iyengar Yoga Institute of New York. She holds a doctoral degree in Early Childhood Special Education and is an Assistant Professor at Hunter College.