By Kathleen Barry
It’s finally autumn in New Orleans, which for many of us can mean a packed social calendar,
back to school duties, ramping up of work priorities, and preparing for the holiday season. It’s
intoxicating, and it often goes too quickly. Autumn is a time of quickening for many of us. The
leaves begin to fall, the air gets crisp, and the days get shorter. There’s a grief, subtle or not so,
that accompanies the quickening. As if our own internal compasses understand change is afoot.
This space can carry a flavor of liminality. Impermanence. And so much of life is actually like
this: fleeting.
Recently, I have been thinking a lot about my own journey over the past seven years or so. I
began teaching yoga in 2018; it was also the year I left a long-term relationship; I left a big,
corporate consulting firm; and I lived alone for the first time in my life. All of this happened in the
autumn.
In the next three years, I – along with the planet – experienced a global pandemic. I experienced
another breakup that, somehow in just eight months, managed to break my heart even more
than my previous eight year long one. The yoga community that raised me from a brand new
yogi into a teacher closed overnight. I moved away from what I knew as home (Northern
Virginia) for the first time ever, quit consulting all together, and became a full-time yoga teacher
in a new city, New Orleans, with a handful of acquaintances and a huge amount of unprocessed
grief.
I share all of this because the 2018 version of me had such a rosy and unshakeable view of the
yoga practice. It was rigorous, fun, sweaty, spiritual, and in community. It grounded me. And, I
was sure, given all the changes I’d endured in 2018, I could handle anything. But, I found that
with the addition of these new challenges in my life, my practice required a massive shift. That
which I’d believed to be so deep, so aligned, was actually quite superficial.
Long story short, my physical practice completely changed after I fell during a morning walk and
severely injured both palms.
Any and all resilience I’d had was gone at this point. Given all the massive changes I’d already piled on, I was faced with incredible complexity that my brain wanted to label and categorize into binaries. And, the comfort of “good/bad” and “right/wrong”was keeping me from processing and feeling the deep sorrow of cumulative loss living beneath the surface. Funny enough? That fall happened… in the fall.
Navigating liminal spaces is a huge part of the path of yoga for me. I face a challenge, don’t
know what’s coming next, and so, the practice begins. What I’ve found to be so potent during
the autumn months is the alignment to what the season is showing me. Culturally we may
quicken, but nature prepares to slow down. As the bridge between the summer and winter,
autumn serves as a beautiful time to get really intentional about what we’re making space for in
the coming year. Ancient people used the fall for a final harvest, a time to preserve or compost
before winter’s cold. So many cultures outside of the modern west celebrate the New Year
during the fall. From Judaism to Hinduism, from Wicca to Druidry, from Ethiopia to Australia, the
pouring out of the year’s past occurs when autumn is here.
In the classes I teach, we’ve recently been honoring the Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM)
Five Element Theory, using metal – autumn’s signature element – to move through side bends,
twists, and deep diaphragmatic pranayama. Metal’s meridians (or nadis as we know them in the
yogic lineage) rule the side body, moving through the lungs and the large intestine. Something I
deeply value within the TCM system is its acknowledgement of emotional properties within the
body and organs. Metal element can feel like grief, or the processing of it or the remaining stuck
in it. To move intentionally with these meridians allows me to move through, and with, the
emotions I’m experiencing.
Yoga is primarily about digestion. I’ve come to experience digestion as so much more than just
food in and out. Simply put, digestion enables the nervous system to regulate itself. And, it’s a
process through which the mind and subtle body discern nutrients and waste from what we
consume through the five senses, be it imagery, sounds, social media posts, news, etc.
During the fall, our bodies are innately attuned to the natural grief of nature’s rhythm. Our brains
and nervous systems are acutely aware of the diametrically opposed cultural demands of the
fall. And thus this dissonance, which can feel like unprocessed grief for many, emerges.
Ultimately, autumn is a time of liminality. We’re invited to slow down, tune into the body, and
honor our intuition. Liminal times and spaces offer thresholds of change, so that we can loosen
the grip of attachment (aparigraha) to whatever stories (samskaras) we feel stuck in. While fall
can fly by so fast, we can choose to center into the presence of what it brings: a chance to
empty out and make space for that which is most aligned.
Mudra
Ksepana Mudra – the gesture of pouring out
Interlace all but your index fingers, and cross your thumbs. Allow a little
space between the palms, and relax the index fingers down towards the
ground, perhaps resting in your lap. Elbows and shoulders can relax.
Visualize whatever it is you’re ready to pour out leaving through the tips
of your fingers, pouring into the ground.
A Few Lung Acupressure Points
The Narrow Defile and/or Lung 7, 8, 9
On the thumb side of your inside wrist, add light pressure using the fingers of the opposite
hand on three points closest to where you take your pulse.
Quotes
“Grief is the price we pay for love.” – Queen Elizabeth II
“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald
“When I let go of what I am, I become what I may be.” – Lao Tzu
Pranayama
Practice a simple ujjayi pranayama with a version of kumbukha, or outer retention, at the end
of the exhale.
Deeply inhale, with hands on either side of the rib cage, and feel the lungs widen your ribs as
they inspire. Exhale to feel the ribs narrow lightly, draw the diaphragm up/contract lightly, and
hold the breath out on empty for a few seconds. Repeat as many times as you like.
Feeling it in Your Body
A few creative ways to get into the side-seams of the body:
Ardha uttanasana: forward fold with crossed ankles
Exalted warrior: revolved crescent lunge, reversed
Standing side bend: take ksepana mudra overhead, strengthen your roots and trunk,
and lean right then left with your breath. (AKA ardha chandrasana in the 26+2 series)
So many more we’ll practice all fall if you can make it to a Monday morning Align and Flow!
Playlist
Listening to music truly helps me process grief. I know this is a little out of the box,
but I’ve made a compilation of those songs that help me pour out a little:
Also, I remain indebted to the Jeff Buckley album Grace for helping me through some of my
most potent times of healing: