American Parkinson Disease Association
Davis Phinney Foundation
Michael J. Fox Foundation
Parkinson Disease Foundation
American Parkinson Disease Association
Davis Phinney Foundation
Michael J. Fox Foundation
Parkinson Disease Foundation
My class calls this the Chaise Lounge Pose. Fully supported, students relax into it, allowing tension to release. They say that the only thing missing is a drink holder.
When to Practice the Pose
Supta baddha konasana, or reclined bound angle pose, ranks high on their list for savasana. Mine, too. It’s also my top pick for a mid-day break. For five to ten minutes, I lie in repose with props tucked under my head, torso, legs and arms
Benefits of the Pose
What’s not to like? Gravity does the work loosening what the Parkinson’s squeezes tight. A restful, passive expansion across the chest opens my heart while flexing the vertebrae behind it. The curve in my lumbar spine relaxes on the bolster and the rubber-band muscles of my inner thighs lengthen without effort. These shifts help my posture, gait and sleep. Yum.
There’s also a surprise bonus: Facial muscles – ones I didn’t realize were taut – ease and soften. My whole jaw broadens making my teeth feel like even they settle and allow for more space.
Particularly in the depths of winter, these are welcome sensations. I can feel the sunshine, hear the birds, imagine the warm breezes as my mind and body restore. Yum, yum.
Not only does reclined bound angle pose “taste” good, it is good. A study by the Parkinson’s Disease Society of India, conducted at the Iyengar Institute, concluded that yoga practice provided positive, measurable benefits to the well-being of those living with Parkinson’s. Among the poses practiced regularly? Supta baddha konasana.
Props to Use
This variation on the reclined bound angle pose is heavily supported. It adds eye pillows and a few extra blocks, subtracts the strap. The props I use are:
The eye pillows are for the palms of the hand to help release any dystonia. The extra blocks support the arms to relieve any strain in the shoulders (shoulder pain is a common secondary symptom of Parkinson’s and can be difficult areas to relax if affected by a stroke).
I disregard the strap used in traditional propping. While it may keep the soles of the feet together and the heels from sliding away from the hips, students with movement disorders experience restricted movement on a daily basis. It can be anything but soothing to forcefully inhibit movement even more.
Setting up the Props
Set the bolster lengthwise on the mat. Place a cushion or folded blanket at the head of the bolster. Set two blocks in their flattest position short-end-to-short-end on either side of the mat. The other two are at the foot of the mat awaiting positioning. Set an eye pillow on each set of blocks along the sides of the mat & bolster.
Easing into the Pose
Sit on the mat with the back of your hips abutting the short end of the bolster. Next, with the soles of the feet touching, bring the two blocks from the foot of the mat under each thigh just above the bent knee. The block can be positioned to whatever height needed to fully support the legs. There should be no strain, no active holding in the inner thigh muscles.
From here, lie back slowly, easing the spine onto the bolster. It is important that the bolster doesn’t move or slip up the mat as the body eases on to it. Have another person hold the bolster in place during this step. Or, try arranging the top end of the bolster against the wall before this step. I’m 5′ 7″ and can ease back without my head brushing the wall.
Allow your head to be supported by the cushion or blanket so that the neck is neutral, not overextending but also not with the chin tucked.
Take hold of an eye pillow in each hand. Rest the forearms and wrists on the sets of two blocks. Allow the palms to be face up and soften the grip on the eye pillows. Let them merely rest on the palms.
Easing Out of the Pose
To come out of this pose, release the eye pillows. Remove the blocks from under the thighs. Move one set of arm blocks aside and roll off the bolster to that side. Curl into a fetal position for several breaths before moving into an upright, seated position. And before rising, allow a few cycles of breath to notice the openings, to drink them in.
Despite the challenges that accompany travel when living with Parkinson’s, I still enjoy it. Visiting new places or old friends outweighs the excess baggage that goes with going away.
Wacky schedules throw off my meds cycle. My slow-mo body becomes an obstacle that others slalom around. A tremor appears (not typically among my list of symptoms). Worth it, worth it, worth it because the adventure’s good evens out the not-so-good.
Except for one hassle that throws off this balancing act: the airline fee for checking rather than carrying on my bag.
For most of the travel stressors, yoga brings some relief. I can ease back down from the security line’s rush of disrobing and shoe removal (which we know is a lengthy process with PD) and although I’m crammed into a seat that restricts my movement, I manage to stretch a bit. While waiting at the gate, I find a corner where I can move through a series of half dogs and half moons. On board, I try to work in some seated lateral bends, cat and dog poses, even a twist. It eases the rigidity and refocuses my mind on who or what I’m off to see.
For the leftover muscle kinks, I wait until I’m in the hotel room. Hot bath? Sometimes. Bouncing on the bed? You bet. The real tension tamer, though, is a head stand.
Nothing quite refreshes the same way as viewing the world upside-down.
And though I am capable of literally standing on my head after checking in to my room, I wish I didn’t have to figuratively do so while checking in for my flight. Despite my requests, despite my travel cane, despite the carry-on size of my bag, I pay to check it.
If my meds are “on” while I’m getting my boarding pass, I cannot trust that they’ll stay that way when its time to hoist my carry-on into the overhead. So I don’t run the risk of injury — to me or others seated below the bin — and check my bag. And get charged for it. That doesn’t add up to me. Or, if my math is right, it adds up to discrimination. Even when I look at it upside down.
The holiday season brings together unlikely pairings: red and green, giving and receiving, Parkinson’s and beauty.
Yes, beauty. Although it seems improbable, Parkinson’s has not simply taken but has added beauty to my days.
One of the forms of that beauty manifests in the music of Greg Rice.
Greg is a composer. He is also a father, businessman, active community volunteer and a person living with Parkinson’s.
A law degree plus years of working in the corporate world added to a PD diagnosis wouldn’t typically total up to Musician. But Greg’s symphonies represent the sum of these aspects of him. The music – varied and original – surprises and delights. Performed by various city symphony orchestras, the sound is sometimes grand and sweeping, sometimes a simple dance. Each a pleasure. I play his music in my yoga classes. I play it in my car. I play it to fill the air with rhythm, magic.
Greg admits that the magic, this artistry, was given to him with the Parkinson’s. Not right away. And though the discovery took some time, he did not hesitate to give back. Through the Greg Rice Foundation, he donates proceeds from the sale of his CDs as well as from any speaking engagements.
Enjoy the holidays. Enjoy the music.
To learn more, please visit Greg’s web site: www.gregricefoundation.org
Dear Yoga Teachers,
If he or she hasn’t already, someone with Parkinson’s will attend your class. Or it may be someone recovering from a stroke. Or living with MS.
Not only are there more and more yoga students living with a movement disorder, the number under the age of 60 with these diagnoses is increasing. And this growing population is turning to yoga.
Ahimsa leads us to approach with compassion, which, considering the yoga teachers I’ve met over the years, is a given. Satya and asteya also influence that approach.
With satya in mind, its truth dictates that meeting the special needs of a student with a movement disorder requires more than compassion. Considering asteya, we’d be stealing from our students’ time and effort if we didn’t try to meet those special needs with specialized training.
Please consider learning more about strategies for managing rigidity, tremor, dystonia and balance and safety concerns. Increase your understanding of how to modify, cue and sequence, and guide students into increased flexibility and strength in targeted areas.
If you’re around Boston on January 21, 2012, please consider joining us in a yoga teacher training workshop: Yoga Teacher Training for Students with Parkinson’s or other Movement Disorders
Blessings,
Renee
A beautiful yoga studio sign! It stands, however, on the brick sidewalk outside the door of local clothing boutique.
The bottom of it offers holiday gift cards for the shop. The sign struck me more, though, for the true gift it offers during this rushed holiday season: Breathe. Be present. Enjoy.
Perhaps we all need a joyous reminder to keep from getting caught up in the next several weeks of To Dos and To Buys. As a person with PD, the sign’s living and being approach helps reduce the stresses that come with this time of year, stresses that can exacerbate my symptoms. It’s a yogic reminder that brings me back into the moment and out of past and future worries.
If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, may many eyes rest on this sign. Enjoy the beauty, moment to moment.
“On Thanksgiving Day we acknowledge our dependence.” William Jennings Bryan
Though I consider myself fiercely independent, I do, indeed rely on so many throughout the day. To those upon whose hearts and spirits my strength and independence depends:
Thank You to the PD community for your determination and humor. Both buoy me.
Thank You to the woman on the elevator at the doctor’s office for your compliment. I thought about our encounter you all day.
Thank You to the grocery bagger in checkout line 3 – I appreciate your care not to squish the avocados and not to pack so much into those giant cloth bags I bring. That way I can carry them.
Thank You all who read this blog, for letting me share my musings with you.
Thank you to my art teachers – you’re opening new worlds for me.
Thank you to my friends and family who let me ‘normal’ at the same time accepting the differences PD can affect.
Thank you to my sister. I adore you. I adore us.
Thank you to my son. All that you are. You keep me grounded even though you think I can fly.
Thank you to my husband. The support, the joy, the way you smile.
I so depend on your sweeps through my heart for you are my daily blessings. Thank you.
It could be said that haiku is the yoga of poetry. The art of this traditionally seventeen-syllable piece rests in words that flow into a focused, present, meditative form. The beauty of yoga lies in the mind-body that flow into a focused, present, meditative form.
I like to read poetry in yoga class, weaving the heart of the quotation or stanza through our asana practice.
Today in class, we created our own words to move by. At the start of class, we took turns around the circle. Each of us listed one word that, to us, represents yoga. We moved through the warm-ups and poses, the adjectives and verbs in the air around us. Following savasana, they were turned into pure poetry:
Council on Aging Yoga Class Haiku #1:
Fun concentration
focuses on opening,
stretching attitude
Council on Aging Yoga Class Haiku #2:
Relax into peace,
movement brings serenity
pleasure, friendliness
Seventeen syllables of wisdom.
At the Young Onset Parkinson’s Northeast Conference, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time. Years. Decades.
I danced.
After my childhood stroke, with literally half a leg to stand on, I crossed Dancer off my list of possible careers, hobbies and even casual past-times.
But that didn’t keep me off stage in high school. Tall and not-so-graceful, the musical director cast me as an Amazon in “The King & I.” In my role, I stood cross-armed and at attention, guarding the entryway in each scene involving the king. Though I appeared more often than the wives — perhaps more often than Anna — in my role, I spoke no lines and certainly did not dance.
I ventured onto the dance floor in college and at weddings. Two-stepping, waltzing, or lining up to do the Macarena called for so much concentration to get the footing right, to stay remotely balanced that I’m sure a grimace joined me out there. That changed in Rachel Balaban’s “Dance with PD” session at the Conference.
I danced and smiled.
Rachel led us, thirty-some not-so-graceful people with PD, through a series
of flowing, fanciful, fun moves. For the first time, I floated across the floor, not grimacing but laughing. Dance, Rachel said, not only gets us moving, it lets music’s rhythm help us move. And it does it in a community setting, creating connections while also being creative.
If yoga is a meditation in motion, dance is expression in motion.
I marched to show tunes, jigged to an Irish ditty, reached out and let the harmonies, the laughter, the personal expression seep in.
The next time PD makes me feel stiff, masked, on guard like that Amazon role, I shall swing my arms. Laugh. Cry. I shall dance.
Thank you, Rachel. (Thank you, too, Alex.) For more on Rachel, who is the Connecticut Coordinator for the Mark Morris “Dance for PD” program, visit
www.wabisabiway.net
Mimicry represents a form of flattery, or so I’ve heard.
When I discover my writings cut and pasted into other yoga web sites, ‘flattered’ isn’t how I feel. Irritated, yes. Annoyed that pieces — sometimes verbatim, sometimes slightly reworded — appear out of context and with no reference to the resources in the original.
It delights me to share the benefits that yoga brings to others, like me, with movement disorders. I’m honored to work with fellow teachers so they can best meet the needs specific to our ways of moving. When the word is grabbed rather than shared, though, my heart sinks a little. Its from being disappointed because the benefits of yoga for Parkinson’s seem secondary to benefitting one’s own studio, web site, class offerings.
But, on last check, the yamas – our yogic ways of being – do not list flattery, irritation, annoyance or disappointment among them.
Ahimsa guides me wish no harm. No harmful judgment. There’s a part of me, however, that becomes protective. If someone with Parkinson’s stumbles — and stumble we do — into a studio that isn’t equipped to meet their needs, will the teacher seek out information about the disease and the best approaches to a safe and effective practice?
Satya leads me to trust in the truth, in the heart of why we teach, in the belief that the other 99 percent of the teachers I’ve encountered are true guides. And they are. I’ve had the opportunity to interact with so many caring teachers. Why, then, am I fixated on the very few whose common ground springs from common words in articles and postings?
Asteya urges me to refrain from stealing away time, energy, perhaps good intentions by returning to non judgment. Bracmacharya suggests I not indulge these feelings of irritation, annoyance. Feel them. Let them go.
Aparigraha brings it all home. Let it go, for it is not mine. I don’t own the information. Practice non attachment. Except, I do admit to clinging to the idea that we are all in this together, all of us who teach and continue to learn about yoga. So, yes, cut and paste and share. But please include the resources, the full story behind the writing, and the even larger context from where my words derive: I’d rather not be teaching yoga for Parkinson’s. I do not relish in discovering further pose adaptations for those with advanced stages. I’d rather there were no Parkinson’s, that I and those I’ve come to know and care for in the Parkinson’s community were not facing the inevitable progression into advanced stages.
In the meantime, as B. K. S. Iyengar says, “Yoga teaches us to cure what cannot be endured and to endure what cannot be cured.” As long as no cure exists for Parkinson’s, I will use the yamas as my guide in bringing yoga’s benefits to people with movement disorders. Or at least I’ll try.