I "Heart" Yoga
By Dylan BarmmerOctober 2009
“In hell, you sink to the level of your lack of love. In heaven, you rise to the level of your fullness of love.” – From the film “Waking Life”
For pretty much as long as I can remember, I’ve battled anxiety and/or depression in some way, shape or form. I was the sensitive, creative, clever, curious, crazy (and cute) kid, and as an adult, I’ve had to gradually come to terms with a lot of things that I’m pretty sure I always used to run from or ignore or dream or laugh away.
There is a “gift” in this kind of makeup, surely. Actually, there are many. I’ve always been an “old soul”. I’ve always been capable of great depth of feeling and emotion. I’ve always been very aware of my surroundings and those in them. I’ve always had a tremendous reservoir of love and compassion and creativity and energy. I’ve always been a high achiever and a fast learner and a loyal friend. I’ve always had a big mind and an even bigger heart. I’ve always been very strong…yet very vulnerable (what can I say, I’m a complex guy).
I’ve always felt driven. Often relentlessly so.
Of course, the downside can be rough. With great joy can come great pain. Getting “stuck” on something or someone that hurts you is pretty hellacious. Falling deeply in love with someone who doesn’t love you back just cuts to the core of your silly romantic soul. Having high expectations (especially for yourself) often leaves you stinging and/or stunned when they’re not met. “It’s tough when you care”, as they say on the streets.
And driving too hard or fast or far can leave you stranded and out of gas. Or, worse, flipped upside down in a ditch.
At some point, I’d say around my family’s second big move and my start at an all-boys Catholic school, sadness and frustration became too-constant companions of mine. I started to internalize those wounds and setbacks and not-what-I-expected occurrences. And when I learned in college that pouring alcohol on those wounds really numbed them out quite nicely, things really got ugly.
At my most depressed and drunk, I just didn’t want to live. At my most manic and hammered, I did all kinds of stupid crazy shit that, frankly, I have no idea how I am still alive right now (but I’m sure glad I am). This kind of destructive experiment went on through my 20s, with varying degrees of intensity and audacity. Thankfully, on a sullen Sunday in January 2007, I woke up (barely) and decided to stop charging headfirst into hell and start blazing a new path back toward the light. There would definitely be no booze on that path. But I really had no idea what else there WOULD be. Or how I would stick with it when The Wild Things started jumping out of the thickets. I mean, I was pretty broken. Lost. Angry. Terrified. And very, very sad.
I was in Hell.
Thankfully, I found yoga. And it has allowed me to hold my ground. Even when things start to get muddy again.
When I turned 35 on August 21, I took the day off work and treated myself to an extended restorative yoga class at my favorite studio here in the Yoga Mecca of Encinitas, CA. Amazing teacher. Amazing setting. Amazing students. Amazing energy. During the second half, it really hit me just how far I’ve come over the past few years…and how much of my growth has come directly from developing and deepening my yoga practice since I first stumbled into a class at my gym in the fall of 2007.
At one point, I was laying there on my back, propped up in a prolonged heart opener, wide open, so relaxed, so happy. Tears started to trickle down my face. Now, it doesn’t take too much for me to cry. But these were good tears. Sweet tears. Tears of pure joy and happiness. I was so thankful to be alive. So thankful to be feeling and healing and dealing. So thankful to have found a peaceful, healthy, beautiful outlet for all my energy and passion and love.
So I decided to go deeper.
I ended up practicing something like seven times over the next 10 days, and probably close to 20 times over a month-long period. And since then, I’ve kept my practice going at least three times a week. Nothing too intense or grueling, mind you. Hatha. Restorative. Vinyasa flow. No bikram (haven’t tried it yet) or ashtanga (very rarely indulge these days). Just four beautiful styles of classes with four beautiful teachers who emphasize the mental and spiritual components of yoga as much as the physical. And in one of those classes, I even got to hear a poem I wrote played as a song during savasana – by a really amazing and talented guy who became a fast friend.
I can’t even tell you how powerful it all has been. Well OK, I can try…
My internal calmness and clarity have been greatly enhanced. I’ve been smiling and making deeper eye contact more. I’ve been patient and kind with everyone, even strangers on the street (and for the most part, with myself). I’ve been flashing the peace sign and saying “peace” more. I’ve been eating more consciously (including no coffee for close to two months, and little to no meat for over a month now). I’ve been feeling connected and “in the flow.” I have obsessed and worried less and risked and loved more. I have given without expecting to get in return (a concept called “seva” in yogic philosophy). I’ve responded more and reacted less.
My mind is more at ease. My heart is more open. My body is more limber and flexible and powerful. My spirit is lighter and freer.
I’m still driven. But my foot is off the accelerator. And I see the road better than ever.
I could go on and on and on, but I won’t. I’ll just say that this is pretty awesome stuff. Yoga loosely translates to “union”, and that’s what I’ve experienced. Mind, body and soul are humming along at pretty close to the same frequency. I mean, this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced this. But I’ve really been aware of it these past few months.
I’ve also made connections with more and more amazing and deep and brave and unique and passionate people. People who are truly more focused on what we have in common than what divides us. People who believe in loving themselves and others in a very profound way. And Goddamn, we could use more of that Hard Stuff right now.
I wrote this to fully process and feel what I’ve experienced. But I also wrote it with the intention that it might help or inspire someone who happens to read it (and need it). I know my yoga practice has helped and inspired me so much the past few years. It’s a great teacher. A great metaphor for life. A great Natural Remedy for anxiety and depression and all sorts of mental and emotional blockages. A great tool for maintaining sobriety. A great way to meet cool, open-minded people.
Yoga can make you a better person if you let it. It can heal you. It can change you. It won’t solve all your problems or “fix” everything in your life, but it will equip you with the tools you need to survive and thrive.
Yoga is a beautiful thing, and I am so thankful to have it in my life – whether it’s once a week or seven times in 10 days. And trust me, I am not the only one who feels this way. Not by a longshot.
Namaste. Peace. Slainte!
Dylan Barmmer is an accomplished advertising and marketing copywriter, budding poet and passionate yogi who resides in the North San Diego County surf hamlet of Cardiff-by-the-Sea. You can reach him by email.