My Knee Wants Its Say (a personal interlude)

I’ve been sidelined this week by the voice of my unrepentant right knee, which currently insists that it doesn’t want to bend. This knee has been troublesome every since that time I almost died in Patagonia (a phrase I love to throw around that exaggerates a hiking mishap outside of Ushuaia, Argentina), but lately it’s become cognizant of my upcoming birthday. “In honor of turning sixty,” it seems to say, “you’ll need to re-think the way you get in and out of cars, walk down the street, practice asana…. you know, little things like that.”

Have you ever tried sitting in Sukhasana (Easy Pose) without bending your right knee? Taking Balasana, (Child’s)? How about either of the first two Virabhadrasanas (Warrior)? Or any form of Kapotanasa (Pigeon)? I didn’t think so — these are rhetorical questions precisely because we assume that the knee joint is there to be bent. However, this week, that joint’s on strike — and I’m having to re-think my whole approach to yoga as a result.

As my teacher, Jivana Heyman, is fond of reminding us, asana is only one part of yoga: achieving a difficult posture is nice, but it doesn’t have any bearing on the quality of one’s practice. I know this, and I believe it wholeheartedly – the cancer warriors I teach must often modify their movements because of lymphedema or surgery, and some of them are the most dedicated yoga practitioners I’ve ever met. Unfortunately, I appear to have a little voice inside my head that thinks “well, that’s okay for them,” while insisting that, as a teacher, I must be the Most. Accomplished. Yogini. Ever. I want to be the next Tao Porchon-Lynch, the woman who taught yoga after her hundredth birthday. My desire to age well tells me that I. Need. To. Keep. Being. Physical. This is certainly true, and when everything’s working right I need to move my body — but pretending that my knee doesn’t hurt right now is counter-productive.

In Chapter Two of the Bhagavad Gita, we are reminded that “you have a right to perform your prescribed duties, but you are not entitled to the fruits of your action.” In other words, acceptance, courage, and wisdom are important parts of the yogic path. Practicing asana doesn’t guarantee a life completely free from physical constraints, and there are going to be times when postures must be altered or even curtailed entirely. Rather than complain, I can turn to another section of Patanjali’s Eight-Limbed Path while I allow my knee to heal. Wise action would have me exploring pranayama and meditation, perhaps even from the ‘indignity’ of a chair. (What makes some seated postures more ‘yogic’ than others? A mind that’s overly focused on ‘am I good enough?’ rather than ‘what can I do to honor where I am today?’)

Wise action would also have me remember certain hard-nosed truths. No one here gets out alive. I don’t practice to stay in the shape of a runway model; in fact, I make a fuss about the fact that every body is a ‘perfect yoga body.’ Yes, every one, even today’s knee-constrained shape. Sometimes I need to be reminded of this, and perhaps my knee is simply telling me to slow down and take better care of myself.

Why am I writing about this? Because today’s truth is that we all need to sometimes means pull back and re-engineer our practice, for one reason or another. When that happens, it’s easy to get depressed and anxious, but we can move through those emotions into the truth of being human. Change is inevitable, and as the Buddha reminds us, we can’t completely avoid pain. However, we can avoid the suffering that comes from unmet and unrealistic expectations.

If, like me, you’re at a point where you need to take time off from your asana, try re-framing the situation. This is a great time to study the yamas and niyamas, perhaps journaling to make things more personal. Breathwork is always important. Or, if working with the body is imperative, consider a restorative yoga practice. The point I’m trying to make, and possibly belaboring to the point of absurdity: let’s give ourselves some compassion and then a reality check. There’s so much to yoga that a lifetime of study isn’t enough — and physical movement is only one small part.

My plan for today is to meditate and work with my mantra. Oh, and I’m also going to practice swinging my (straight) leg in and out of the car seat. I’ve put the knee-protecting inserts into my tennis shoes as well. Today I get to practice ahimsa, or non-harming. Where’s your practice today, and does it include compassion and self-care?