Finding Possibility and Inclusion Through Stillness by Jessica May

Jessica in Setu Bandha Sarvangasana

Consider the fat women of the world. We’re champion explainers, aren’t we? We are put on the spot about how often we exercise. Dozens of questions that should be filed under “none of your damn business” fall at our feet.  We have all been conditioned to explain ourselves. In a world where images of us, and others just like us, are used as “before” photos in infomercials, where there is a proclaimed war on obesity, and where fat equals failure, we have been told in very frank terms that we’d better have a pretty compelling reason to be the way that we are.

I’ve been fat for the majority of my life, and I have dozens of explanations for it. I have a hormonal disorder. My massive breasts give me an almost constant backache. I suffer from depression, anxiety, and PTSD so sometimes just pulling myself out of bed is a victory for the day, and eating well and going to the gym isn’t on the agenda. I don’t owe explanations to anyone, nor should they demand them. This became clear to me when I began taking classes at Yoga Enlarged.

My first day was like going to a family reunion. A room full of women, women just like me, and they’re all doing yoga!  All the glorious strangers in the room were happy to welcome me into the fold. Class began, and as Joyce and Angie, the double matriarchs of the extended family guided us with loving and sturdy hands, I felt relaxed for the first time in a very long while.

My journey so far through yoga hasn’t been perfect. I still have a lot of ego to get over, and a lot of silly prejudices about my own body. Not all poses go well. I have incredible balance but can’t get my knees close to my chest at all. I have had to learn to see both of those things as part of my practice, and to accept that there are props to assist me whenever I need them. Looking around the room, I’m not the only one who needs them, and it’s an encouraging thing to see.

One day, about six months in, I did something that surprises me to this day. I showed up to yoga and hardly did a thing. It had been a long day full of forcing myself to do things I didn’t want to do, and I had no desire to hoist myself around a yoga mat. I laid out my mat, placed a blanket under my butt, and settled in for 90 minutes of virtually zero movement. I just sat on my mat with my legs criss-crossed, breathing deeply. I imagined myself moving through Joyce and Angie’s poses. I didn’t overthink, I didn’t judge myself, I just breathed and imagined. In my imagination, my body could do a boat pose for thirty breaths. In my mind, my body was unstoppable.

As Angie prepared the class for a final standing pose before the sweet gift of Savasana, Joyce came towards to my mat. Uh oh, I thought. I’m in trouble. Instincts kicked in, and I was ready with a litany of explanations as to why I wasn’t participating, why I had had put forth so little effort today, yet why I still deserved to be there. She leaned down and whispered in my ear in her strong, honeyed voice.

“Girl, that looks like the yummiest Sukhasana.”

And then she moved on to help another student. I felt the explanations and apologies fizzle to nothing within me. They weren’t needed here. I left that day feeling powerful, having listened to my body for a full 90 minutes, and gave it exactly what it needed. I had given it the gift of rest and acceptance, and by being still long enough to truly relax, I had imagined a world of possibility for my body. I’d just had to stop beating myself up long enough to see it.

Listening to my body, and celebrating the way it could move, was a significant change for me. Class after class, Angie would remind us that there is a benefit in just imagining yourself doing a pose. If you can’t do it, and modifications aren’t helping, just imagine doing it. Imagine the muscles you would use. Picture yourself doing it. You could still learn about your body without moving a single muscle. Joyce would encourage us to do less than 100%, that it was way too much, and that depending on the day, sometimes 20% was too much. My day of rest proved to me how valuable that could be.

At Yoga Enlarged, there are no explanations necessary. There are no judgments about how much, or how little, you do. There is no quantifying the deepness of your pose compared to the deepness of another’s. There is only the quiet conversation between you and your body, interpreting how to enjoy the movements that Angie and Joyce guide you through. It is a studio small in space yet made infinite by the simple inclusion of your own mind. Every stimulus in that room, every word from the instructor, every pose modification, leads to a simple yet powerful conclusion: you belong here.