Back Bend, Look Inside & Write. ~ Jennifer Lang

Via Jennifer Lang
on Sep 27, 2013
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Photo:  Centre of Gravity
One Indian summer Wednesday morning 18 years ago, I attended my first yoga class in my hometown of Oakland, California.

“Can I squeeze in?” I asked some strangers on either side to make room for my thin blue mat. Looking around, there were at least four or five dozen people. The sunlit room buzzed with energy as the instructor, a slight Asian-American man with picture perfect biceps, greeted students, smiling; finally sitting cross-legged on his mat in front of me.

“Hi, I’m Rodney Yee,” he said, introducing himself to me and a few other first timers. His smile radiated warmth and spanned across his entire face.

My strongest memories of that class and so many that followed were the words: ground down through your feet, plant yourselves into the earth, soften your body, anchor yourself, feel the ground underneath you. His voice—the language—quieted my crazy mind.

Married only five years, Philippe and I had already lived in three different countries and I felt anything but rooted. I gravitated toward Rodney’s words and tried my best to follow his instructions.

Last week, I attended a one-day memoir writing workshop outside the hills of Jerusalem with Sherri Mandell, author of a memoir about loss called Blessings of a Broken Heart. Since the workshop was crammed between the first two major Jewish holidays, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, during what is considered a time for serious introspection called the Ten Days of Awe, she chose the theme of reflection.

Surrounded by a dozen other male and female writers, I listened as Sherri explained how she thought the etymology of the word “reflection” was far more interesting than some Websters’ Dictionary definition:

“From Late Latin reflexionem ‘a reflection,’ literally ‘a bending back, to bend back, bend backwards, turn away’”
“So reflection is to bend back, to stop and look back, to double check yourself,” she continued.

Her word choice fascinated me and I realized I was no longer paying attention. My body didn’t fall out from under me and goose-bumps didn’t dot my arms, but I experienced an aha moment, a moment of clarity when my two separate selves—my yoga self and my writing self—became one. Suddenly, I had the most befitting answer to the centuries-old, philosophical question:

“Who am I?”

I am a back bender.

With the sun pouring into the house from the sliding glass doors on the outskirts of one of the holiest cities in the world, I thought about what it means to bend back.

On the yoga mat, I try to draw my shoulder blades together in attempt to open across the top of my chest, lift my heart up and lean my spine back. Sometimes I bend back while lying on the floor, lifting myself up on my legs and arms into urdva danurasana or full wheel; sometimes I sit on my knees, arching my spine up and over to reach for my ankles in ustrasana or camel pose.

The action of bending back with my body makes me feel like I can fly, like I might float off the floor. It’s as if my physical body is unlocking my emotional one.

But back bending and writing seem mutually exclusive. How can a memoir writer bend back and look inside, exactly that which is required?

“While action and description tell the story, reflection is how a writer negotiates it. The story is the surface, but then bend yourself, bend your story back to see how you relate to it,” Sherri said, occasionally stopping to look at us.

When people ask when or why I first started practicing yoga, I tell them it was the words that reeled me in. So many of the poses puzzled me, cramping muscles I never knew I had or asking me to lift and spread my toes, which were clumped together and impossible to separate. I remember whimpering, “I can’t” or “It hurts” to my teacher. But Rodney’s words “to plant, soften, quiet, anchor, settle,” bewildered me in another way. They required me to stop and take a deep look inside.

Recently 30, married and a mom, I was being asked to use my body as a way to gain access to, or perhaps, understand my mind.

Where was I from and where was I heading?

When gazing in, what did I see? Sometimes Rodney’s thoughts and words struck me so deeply that I welled up with tears.

As time passed, I began practicing twice weekly until we moved to New York, where I obtained my yoga teaching certification. All the while, I wrote for websites, magazines or whoever hired me and early in the fall of 2004, I signed up for my first memoir writing class. In that time, the teacher commanded me to use less exposition, include more description, learn how to write dialogue and create scenes. However, throughout the eight week course, I floundered, struggling to understand what she meant.
While doing a timed reflection writing exercise last week, I truly understood how my two halves make a whole.

I am who I am because I write and practice yoga.

I reflect both on the mat and at my desk. Sometimes I bend forward to look in but usually I bend back, to stop and double check myself.

“As writers, it’s as if we’re opening our mouths in astonishment and saying wow when bending back and reflecting,” Sherri said.

Because there’s something behind us and we must bend back to see it.

 

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Assistant Ed: Gabriela Magana / Ed: Cat Beekmans

{Photo: Centre of Gravity}

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About Jennifer Lang

Jennifer Lang is a freelance writer. She used to write on Yoga for Natural Solutions, Yoga Journal and Fit Yoga magazines. For the past few years, she has been focusing on writing her own stories as well as teaching memoir writing. In 2011, she and her family relocated from White Plains, New York to Raanana, Israel, where she teaches yoga and continues to write.  Connect with her through her blog.

Comments

16 Responses to “Back Bend, Look Inside & Write. ~ Jennifer Lang”

  1. Carol Witte says:

    I don't feel ready to comment.

  2. Sarah says:

    Thanks for this. Yoga has become an old friend to me and it was so nice to be brought back to what it felt like to take that first class, how important the teacher's words are and how profound that stopping of the mind was the first time.

  3. TamaraYoga says:

    I can totally relate to what you say.

  4. Lisa Bleich says:

    So true! I always feel inspired after dong Yoga; it helps me work out what I want to write during my practice.

  5. honi rosen says:

    thank you, Jennifer, you have given us much to think about, reflect upon, and process.

  6. Marina Feldman says:

    Reflecting on oneself is the hardest thing you do. It’s great that yoga can lead many of us to these moments of revelation.

  7. Inna says:

    Wow. This could be a topic for a whole new book. After reading it made me think and feel (read: bend backward and forward) and I came to the old conclusion that life is pretty much a conglomerate of these illusive moments of bending, stretching, thinking, writing – in short, a chaos. And no matter how brilliant your teacher may be (and I can easily believe it, had good teachers all along the way) – still, it's all totally YOUR way with your ups ad downs. What a great, thought provoking, triggering post, Jennifer. Thanks.

  8. Jennifer says:

    We try to look with beginner's eyes but it's also important to listen with beginner's ears… I love the language of yoga.

  9. Jennifer says:

    I couldn't agree more. The irony being when we're practicing we're supposed to try and free our minds from all the crazy thoughts and not reflect… Hmm.

  10. Jennifer says:

    Now, you, my friend, have a way with words and a way of seeing the world that is exquisite. Love the way you describe the chaos of it all. Thanks for reading!

  11. So beautiful, Jennifer. I love this new perspective on writing and yoga — intertwined as two neighboring plants or blossoming from the same seed.

  12. Philippe says:

    I remember that day.

  13. josephine Brand says:

    Hi Jennifer Thank you for this!You helped me so much with your comments Yesterday.Suddenly things fall into place.
    Josephine

  14. Jennifer says:

    Utterly lovely. Thank you for reading and responding. Looking forward to reading more of your work. JL

  15. Jennifer says:

    Now that is poetic language. Love it. Two neighboring blossoms from the same seed. Like! JL

  16. Jennifer says:

    Thank you for my first blue mat… memories of that day!