Who knew that by coming to federal prison I would become an amateur yoga instructor? It all started because I was stretching my tight legs and sore back in the evenings. My ritual was a curiosity to the guys and brought me to the attention of the camp recreation officer, who wanted to start a yoga class. He asked if I would be the instructor and I reluctantly agreed, making it clear that although I had previously attended a few yoga classes at home, I had no clue how to teach it. He gave me a sign up sheet and a Yoga for Beginners DVD, and assured me that I would figure it out. That was the first step on a journey that would lead to my center, from which I would be able to introduce dozens of my fellow campers to this life-changing practice.
The practice of yoga was first documented in the Yoga Sutra by Patanjali 2,500 years ago. In this text he emphasized all aspects of human life, including our relationships with others, our behavior, our health, our breath, and our meditation path. He defined the purpose of the practice as stilling the turning of the mind, thereby bringing us into conscious contact with a power greater than ourselves. As T.K.V. Desikachar wrote in The Heart of Yoga, “Yoga is primarily a practice intended to make someone wiser, more able to understand things than they were before…The goal is always bhakti…to approach the highest intelligence, namely God.”
Our minds float and drift and obsess. Our attention is frittered away in the past and future while our lives are going on in the present. The body and the breath exist only in the present, and by practicing movement and breathing we are brought back into the now, where we can begin our climb up the ladder of awareness. Christina Brown described in her Yoga Bible what is revealed through fully inhabiting our bodies in the present: “Yoga is learning to come back to yourself. It’s finding your limits, expanding your boundaries, and being able to truly relax into who you are.”
The word “yoga” has many meanings that speak to the depth and expansiveness of the practice: to unite; to join; to connect; to come together; to tie the strands of the mind together; to attain what was previously unattainable; to direct the mind without distraction or interruption; to be one with the divine; to act in such a way that all our attention is directed toward the activity in which we are currently engaged. Lofty aspirations, none of which were in the minds of the half-dozen guys who showed up for the first session of Beginners Yoga at the camp at AUSP Thomson.
Our original class consisted of men who were either curious or supportive of me. We popped in the 30-minute DVD and off we went. As the weeks went by, we lost members and gained others, finally settling into a core group that was committed to making progress in the practice. We discovered weakness in some areas, inflexibility in others, and shallow breathing across the board. One of the few benefits of prison is having the time to tackle big challenges–the perfect conditions for the work at hand.
After 10 weeks at the beginner level, we were eager to push forward. The rec officer gave us a 90-minute power yoga DVD taught by Baron Baptiste which provided plenty of new poses to test us. We went from one session per week to two, and gradually improved our competence. Periodically a new guy would join us to replenish the ranks as others went home.
We were cruising along when our routine was interrupted by an extended lockdown that saw us confined to our sleeping ranges. I was determined not to give up all of the gains I’d made, and so I created several workouts that were focused on increasing my core strength. I practiced by my bunk and my classmates took note. When we were finally about to get back to our regular schedule, they asked me to teach them my core yoga workouts. Once again I agreed, taking a big step toward embodying my instructor title.
The final piece of our practice puzzle fell into place one night when I swapped out a stretching session for our weekly core workout. I pushed my fitness regimen hard that week and my body was telling me it needed a break. I wasn’t previously in the habit of listening, but yoga succeeded in making me slightly more attentive, and on this night we stretched from head to toe. By the end of the class, we were all feeling loose and relaxed, and one of the guys suggested that we should stretch every week. Our schedule was set: power yoga with Baron Baptiste or Bryan Kest on Tuesdays, a collection of core yoga workouts designed by me on Thursday, and a full body stretch on Saturdays.
We have found that the three sessions work synergistically, as well as making us more effective in the other fitness activities we engage in throughout each week. Designing workouts has been greatly beneficial for my understanding of yoga and my body as I incorporate new poses, along with principles like counterposes and attention to breath. Our focus is on asanas (poses) and the physical aspects of yoga, but periodically, I will take the class through short meditations or visualizations to introduce mindfulness concepts.
When newcomers join us, we explain that what we are practicing is movement intended to strengthen and lengthen muscles, and improve balance. The three agreed upon principles of our group are:
1) Breathe deeply through the nose, directing the breath into areas of tension;
2) Pay attention to the whole body, making small adjustments to explore the depth of the poses;
And most important,
3) Do what you can and don’t worry about the rest. Yoga is not about ego or comparison to others. It is about the satisfaction of incremental improvement.
Our three principles serve us well, but they are not the only insights I have gained from my practice of yoga and my role as the instructor.
In his video instruction, Bryan Kest reminds his students repeatedly that our intention in practice should be to find and work our edge. This is a powerful insight for yoga, and life, especially in the prison setting. Our comfort zones are not static. They are slowly shrinking spaces that, if we don’t push out into discomfort, will make our lives very small. Kest encourages us to approach the edges and hang out there. When we feel ourselves getting nervous, don’t back away. Stay put and breathe. That is how we progress in depth in yoga poses, and how we create the largest lives possible. There is no growth without discomfort.
The benefit of training my mind through yoga’s focus on present-time awareness extends well beyond class time. Christina Brown wrote, “Each time you come to the present moment, you drop a certain amount of baggage. You may pick it up again shortly thereafter, but the point is that you have practiced letting go.” Baron Baptiste points out that by bringing us into the now, yoga allows us to get the self that is not our real self out of the way.
I have been committed to self-examination and personal growth during my incarceration, and there is no question that the mental training of yoga has made me more effective in that pursuit. Returning to equanimity through my breath and focusing my mind has become almost second nature. That ability has made possible a decluttering of my insides, revealing glimpses of the authentic self that exists in my center. This is the place from which I want to live as I prepare to return to my family and community.
The Thomson yoga group became a little tribe within the camp, and it has been tremendously rewarding for me to be a part of it. Guys progress in their practice, and their palpable sense of self-confidence and pride touches my heart. I push and nudge them along as an instructor should, even when it is out of my comfort zone to do so. I knew if one of my workouts had the guys working their edges when one of our original members, Cheese, would say, “F you, J” on his way out the door. Others point me out to their families during visitation, playfully claiming me as their “teacher” or “guru.” Affection and the bonds of comradeship are expressed in a wide variety of ways in prison. When I hear through the grapevine that a guy has carried on his practice at home, I am reminded of how strong the unifying connection of yoga to ourselves and others can be.
Yoga is a journey, not a destination. Looking back I can see how much distance I’ve covered since that first class years ago. I feel satisfaction and gratitude for the road traveled, and excitement about the road ahead. In the poses and in the broader practice of yoga, I know that I have only scratched the surface. The state of hopeful anticipation I acquired through yoga has permeated my outlook on life itself. One breath and day at a time, I can’t wait to see what’s in store for me as I go forth from my center to explore the edge.
