Powerful yoga

This post is a slightly jumbled attempt to collect and process my thoughts on one of those unexpected transient moments that somehow strike deep into your consciousness and capture you, leaving a wash of thoughts and realisations across your mind. It might not all be correct or what I would like to think, but is my observations of what my Brian was doing. I wrote it only for myself but later thought it could be of interest to others in a similar situation.

Moments gone in a breath can leave a wake (on contrail...) to appreciate

My thoughts this weekend have been constantly drawn back to a comment made to me on Friday.

As I left my yoga class on Friday my teacher said I had worked well today. "Very powerful". That comment was unexpected and it had a massive effect on me. There was an instant emotional reaction. I'm not sure exactly what it was, but it was a positive one. I felt seen, I felt valuable, I felt that I had achieved something, that my work was "good"; I felt strong.

At that point I had no idea I was feeling all those things; it just felt good. But it kept coming back to me, and I was intrigued as to why such a small comment could have such a transformative effect. 

This teacher had seen my work. Had noticed, when I was just being quiet and not drawing attention, just working hard for myself. I have always craved that seeing from people. (Interestingly, I generally seek not to be seen: to melt into the background and be anonymous. To only be noticed when I choose, but this is the 'good' type of seeing.) People who pay attention to the things that are less easy to see. These are the ones who want to see, who really care. If you ask for attention everyone will have to give it. If you don't, the ones who are worth it will spot what is going on.

I thought perhaps he had noticed how hard I was working, how well I want to do (which as I write this, I realise is a little ironic in yoga...). Perhaps he notices each week how hard it is for me to relax myself. How I even when I manage, the tension creeps back within minutes or seconds and I have to work so hard to send it away again. Perhaps this is why he is so firm when he tells us to "Let Go". That nothing else matters right now except being here and breathing. Perhaps he knows how safe this makes me feel. Somebody else being so firm, instructing, almost ordering relaxation. I'm good at obedience, and being told to let go means it's actually OK to for once. One time I nearly just burst into tears!

Perhaps he sees some of my story. He once asked quietly about the marks on my arms, enquiring whether I was OK. I told him he didn't need to know; he didn't push for more and we've never spoken about it since, but I often wonder how often he checks to see how clear my arms are, or what he thinks when there are fresh marks.

Sometimes I have wanted to tell him, but I think it's better this way. A kind of silent understanding, and he responds in the best way for me, with strength and push. He understands that I need to work. No coaxing, no gentleness, but humour and strength, with care underneath. It's healing. Talking about it would complicate and mess it up. He's found the way to get to me, and wow, it works wonders. I feel like a different person after his classes.

He's probably completely oblivious!

So that's why commenting had such an effect, and it has had an effect like that before, when he's commented that my work was looking good today. (I think it's partly also that the comments are so minimal. No excess, no gushing or opinions, just a quick fact. Truth - thought through and genuinely about me, but objective and to the point. Feeling but few words. This is not overpowering but empowering, healing and draws me in to want more rather than making me want to push away.)

But why "powerful" in particular? Why was that so huge a reaction?

I often feel powerless? With anxiety, ASC and my mental health problem, it is easy to feel overwhelmed.

It made me feel strong and I don't often feel strong.

Strong is one of the few good feelings I really want, I think. It's not nicey nicey, smarmy and wishy washy. It's definite. A positive attribute I could bear to have. I can respect it in myself.

A first step towards self-respect??

It said I had done a good job. I really like doing a good job, and somebody knowing I've done a good job, but not because I've told them, and neither have they told anybody else.

It acknowledged my work to discipline my body and mind. Part of this is the being seen and part that I like to have control over myself. I often feel out of control so this is a bit like a drug to me. Is it OK to get this from yoga or is it feeding the control addiction?

I was receiving respect from him and this was good. Not just nice comments but true seeing, understanding and respecting.

Bodies are strange!

A strange thing happened to me last night, and it's very sensory/proprioception/JABADAO! related. I thought I would share just for fun!

I prepared for bed as usual (or as usual for nights when I'm on my own at home anyway) last night, and settled down to sleep in preparation for another day at work. I am generally one of those very lucky people who has no trouble with sleep (other than stopping it!), but I had had a lie-in that morning and was (as usual) anxious about the following day so sleep evaded me.

I'm fairly patient and enjoy being cosy in bed so happily waited for half an hour. Wasn't feeling any more sleepy. Not overly concerned due to the lie-in, but beginning to worry how I will ever drag myself out of bed in the morning and manage on little sleep. Thoughts still flying round Brian. Picked up phone or book and read for half an hour. Thought should try again or the next day would definitely be a write-off. No Mr Peggy so lots of letting my body try different positions it felt comfortable in. No luck. Felt a strange urge to be in a kind of upside-down, rolling-over kind of position. Ignored it because a) too much effort to move that much, b) that would definitely wake me up more not send me to sleep! Body was persistent in wanting that particular movement so eventually I gave in, having nothing to lose by now! Good job nobody there to see! Stayed there for a good while because that's what body wanted. And weirdly noticed body winding down, slowing down and moving towards sleepy. Eventually it led to a more laid-down version, still a position in which I would NEVER expect to fall asleep (I usually only fall asleep in one or two positions), where I actually dozed off! Woke up a bit and transferred to pillow, and hey presto; great night's sleep. Weird.

Basically one of these! Magic sleep position. Who knew?!

And who knew I would find a picture similar enough that I don't have to keep trying to take one,
because it turns out it's actually quite a task on your own...

Learning to dance taught me to live

Learning to dance taught me to make mistakes.

It taught me that it's OK to be right.

It taught me interaction and friendship. By creating a structure and framework for interaction in manageable bitesized chunks.

It taught me that it's OK to be seen... It's OK to speak.

It taught me that you don't have to be perfect.

It taught me that my body needs movement and introduced me to even more ways of meeting that need.

It taught me to step out of my comfort zone.

It taught me that I can make things happen and that this is OK or even a good thing.

It taught me about the impact you can have on someone while being completely unaware of it (other people towards me, but this gives me hope that it can come from me too).

It showed me the magic of the expected.

It introduced me to some of the people I most aspire to be like. I suppose you call them role models.

It taught me tact and diplomacy.

It showed me the good in sharing life.

It taught me to walk with my eyes forward: the first steps to confidence in body and brain.

It taught me to acknowledge and feel emotions, and perhaps to consider expressing them.


I am still learning all of these things, and other areas of life have contributed too, but I can honestly attribute huge swathes of my social and emotional development to the process of learning to dance. This is of course true for everybody who learns dancing, but as somebody with autism, I have to consider the possibility that ballet has over the years been the therapy to teach me how to live in this world before I even knew why it was so difficult.

I wish I could thank all the people, past and present, who are a part of this process, but they'd probably think I was crazy (clearly I'm not, of course...). Some of these people know who they are, but most probably have no idea at all!