Flexibility or Space?

Using yoga (meaning asana here) to increase flexibility (the #1--and overwhelming--reason why people say they practice yoga, at least in the U.S.), coupled with a visually based model of instructing and marketing it, means that we become slaves of form and not function, whether we realize it or not. What if we shifted our paradigm and practiced with the idea of creating space, of increasing or restoring function?

There will always be someone who is more flexible; there will always be another stage of a pose that is inaccessible to you because you are not flexible enough. Do you see the pathology here? Do you see the dysfunction? "Function" is a funny word. It's relatively neutral when used to mean "an activity or purpose natural to or intended for a person or thing." But "function" is mostly used with "dys" in the front to denote some kind of abnormality or impairment. After all, we rarely say, "I am in a functioning relationship." It's almost as if "function" is redundant. We only think of function or its perceived/desired effects when we notice that it has become dysfunction. (For more on this, you might want to check out Drew Leder's Absent Body.) When someone says they would like to increase their flexibility, they are most likely saying that they are experiencing some kind of dysfunction such as low back pain or inability to tie their shoelaces without feeling humiliated and hamstrung, or something to that effect.

Further, practicing with the flexibility paradigm means that we (perhaps inadvertently) practice to get to a sensation of stretching. If you have above average flexibility, this means you are probably routinely going beyond what's reasonable from the point of view of the health of your joints and ligaments (especially over the long term). If you are below or averagely flexible, what you are probably feeling is not a muscle stretching but a muscle contracting, a muscle that's being pulled and telling you it's too much. What's more is that practicing in this context means that you need to practice constantly with ever-increasing levels of intensity to maintain (and potentially increase) the level of flexibility you think you need, usually at the expense of stability and well-knittedness.

Research discussed here indicates that static stretching led to increased range of motion (ROM) due to an increase in stretch tolerance (ability to withstand more stretching force), not extensibility (increased muscle length). Similar findings are discussed here. A review of this latter study asks a very important question, which many are trying to answer:

"...[I]f there is a reduction in sensation at a given joint angle without modification of the mechanical properties of the material [i.e., increased muscle length], this may imply that the joint ROM between the point of onset of pain and the point at which the muscle tears from being overextended is reduced. This joint ROM might be described as a “safety margin” during which the individual is aware of a strong sensation of pain and acts to reduce this pain. Reducing the size of this safety margin could potentially be detrimental to the risk of injury in certain sports, although studies are needed to assess this hypothesis."

The implications of this for long-term asana practice (focused on defining progress as the ability to execute more advanced postures) invite the need for serious consideration and reflection on the part of both yoga pedagogy and practice. 

When we practice with the idea of creating space in the flesh, the mathematical meaning of function makes the most sense: "a relationship or expression involving one or more variables." In this case, making flexibility the main or only variable in our practice negates the very meaning of function, because the human body is not a function with only one variable.

Concentrating on flexibility also encourages us to think linearly, almost unimaginatively, such as for example, "increasing the distance between point A and point B leads to stretching leads to flexibility." The human body does not work linearly. We are like a Pollock painting inside and not like a Mondrian poster.

Promoting flexibility as a virtue in yoga or a goal of one's practice gets our mirror neurons in overdrive at the expense of pausing to allow for perception and paying attention to the flesh kinesthetically (in space) and proprioceptively (felt sense of internal movements). Perception to our internal and external environment, in essence orienting ourselves, is a sort of pre-movement itself and as such is essential for movement education in asana practice, or dance and other similar activities. The flexibility ideal encourages a focus on a form, a shape, a pose, a snapshot in time.

Practicing yoga to create space promotes function, movement, connection within and without. As Matthew Remski recently taught in his excellent Ayurveda course (that I am currently taking), (paraphrasing) "Virtually every therapeutic action involves the addition or sculpting of spaciousness in the spine, joints, sensory, organs, etc." Further, it is "in perception [that] space conjoins."

It is in perception that we contain and can make sense of the infinite spaciousness within, and in perception that we realize that space contains us.

Rhomboids: Enter the Magician's Circle

I was scrolling through my make-believe Facebook feed the other day and came across this Yoga Journal blog post, which was posted by Amy Ippoliti on her Facebook page. The post was "liked" by about 3.5K people, which, coupled with the fact that it seemed like it talked anatomy, made me click on it.

The post summarized what the author (Kelle Walsh, the Yoga Journal’s Executive Online Editor) had learned from Ippoliti about the "yoga that helps" when it comes to shoulder tightness, pain or injury.

I will concern myself today with only a couple of the points made in this post because they are simply incorrect:

• "...engaging the rhomboids, slide the scapula (not shoulders) back and down, creating softness here, as the chest fills up bright." The rhomboids retract the shoulder blade superiorly and medially. That is, they elevate the shoulder blade and draw it towards the spine. The rhomboids cannot and will not draw the scapula down the back (that would be what the lower fibers of the trapezius muscles do). Although the rhomboids, along with the traps and the "posterior" portion of the serratus anterior muscles, are the "glue" that holds the shoulder blades on the back when we exert force through the arms (see Keller, 2008), focusing solely on the rhomboids is problematic. The rhomboid activation tends to turn on the levator scapulae and the upper traps, a recipe for tension in the upper back and neck. Further, overusing the rhomboids to create shoulder stability can, over time, flatten the upper back. Keeping with the spirit of the post that everything is connected, it is simplistic to zoom in on the rhomboids without acknowledging their intimate connection with the serratus anterior muscles, for example.
• "Fill up your waistline." If I want to take my arms overhead--as in, for example, upward hands (urdhva hastasana), down dog or handstand--and my shoulders are tight, in order for me to complete the movement that I am aiming for, my spine will respond and arch. The post says: "we often create such extreme extension in the waistline that it compromises movement of the shoulders." In fact, the waistline goes into extension because my tight shoulders have reached their range of motion limit. But since I am determined to take my arms overhead, my spine has no choice but to respond by arching. When the arms are not weight-bearing as in warrior 1, for example, the simplest solution would be to bring the arms into the front plane of the body (i.e., in your line of vision). So, aligning my shoulders to fit my range of motion will fill up my waistline. But "allow[ing] the side waists to fill up" when my shoulders are past an integrated range of motion is, in my opinion, not possible.

Although the "plug your armbones into their sockets" instruction--also mentioned in the post--is not so problematic as the two points above, I feel that plugging your arm bones is effective only to a certain extent. The problem really is not that the arm bones are not plugged into their sockets, but that the arm bone-scapula rhythm (gleno-humeral rhythm) is not balanced. As Trish Corley recently commented on a Matthew Remski WAWADIA blog post, "A stable shoulder comes from strong scapular muscles that work in a timely manner to rotate the scapula in a particular rhythm that coincides with the position of the humerus." When this rhythm is lost, imbalance, pain and injury ensue.

What is even more concerning about this post is that it was written by a Yoga Journal editor, a publication that claims to be a mainstream authority on yoga, and that it was liked by thousands of people on Facebook (the post seems to have been removed though), many of them presumably yoga instructors.

I am currently reading a book by the late Bulgarian dissident, Georgi Markov, which documents the initial years of Stalinist terror in the late 1940s to mid-1950s in Bulgaria and how the cult of personality and party dogma led to an individual and collective abdication from responsibility and conscience. Markov says (translation mine): "It seems to me that the connection between cult and dogma is natural. There is no cult without dogma. Buying into a cult simplifies personal responsibility, and buying into dogma simplifies intellectual responsibility. Buying into a cult, one can justify erring. Buying into dogma, one can justify not thinking." I can't help but draw some parallels between what Markov describes and some of what is going on in the world of yoga and asana these days.

For more on shoulders, I recently led a workshop on handstand and forearm balance, which discussed the shoulders in this context. Here is a link to the handout I distributed. As always, I hope it is helpful and stimulating, and would love to hear any and all comments, feedback and questions.

p.s. The title of this post comes from the etymological origin of rhomboids. In English, this muscle’s name is the magician’s circle, or oblique angled parallelogram-shaped muscle. The term rhomboid is derived from the Greek rhombos meaning “a magician’s circle,” a shape represented by an oblique angled parallelogram.

Allow Your Core to Happen

I recently led a workshop titled "Allow Your Core to Happen." So much of what we think about the core propels us to work harder, to feel like we need to gain or acquire something we don't have, to achieve some state of core-stasis/core-ness and, subsequently, to hold on to it, as if it is something that's fixed and unchangeable.

My practice and studies challenge this notion, and my workshops and classes endeavor to convey that. Below, I am sharing the presentation that I prepared for this workshop in the hopes that you will find it not only helpful and educational, but that it will also lead to an inquiry and discussion on your part and on the part of the people with whom you choose to share it.

I would love to hear your feedback, comments and questions. Enjoy!

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0Bxsk0tVbtkkARE1hSFhOSHVjdFU/edit?usp=sharing

Walking as a Practice of Letting Go

When I was doing Jenny Otto's yoga as therapy training in 2010, I remember her telling us about Mary Dunn, the late Iyengar yoga teacher, who basically made it her practice to be a better walker. It wasn't about finding some perfect alignment, or becoming enlightened or otherwise awakened, it was about being a good walker.

I always found this idea profound on many levels. Profound in its simplicity, in its common sense logic and in its underlying complexity. Walking is a fundamental human experience. And perhaps because of that, it is considered innate and not something to be particularly taught. Yet, most of us walk in a manner that's unhelpful to our well-being. I am starting to realize that all Jenny was trying to teach us in this training was how to be more graceful walkers. Walking is a whole-body experience.

Walking is a skill to be cultivated, preferably on a daily basis. I think it was Aristotle who said: "We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit." Same goes for mediocrity or general crappiness. Like how you carry yourself through space, how you hold yourself when you sit, stand, interact, etc. It occurred to me a few years ago, after becoming aware of a particularly strong gripping pattern in my body, that I can do a lot of yoga but if I don't address underlying everyday habits and patterns of rigidity and understand how to incorporate my knowledge into daily life, then it won't make a damn bit of difference. When the integration between the practice and life is missing, yoga becomes a fix, or something you do to "get fixed." Fix however implies stasis as opposed to dynamism. In his "Introduction to Ayurvedic Worldview and Method," Matthew Remski talks about health as homeodynamic balance, that is, health in relationship and within one's circumstance, rather than health as homeostasis, which implies the establishment of a protective bubble for health to exist in. But I digress...

My interest in walking has only grown over the years. My beloved is a walker. I am a walker. When we travel the world, we mostly explore on foot and by ourselves. Although I bike to and from work, I make it a point to have a daily walk during which I try to cultivate walking. My partner always says that walking is the speed at which you are supposed to see and take in the world around you.

Below are a few jots on walking that I have gleaned upon over time from my own walking patterns and that I occasionally hear in my head on my walking adventures. (Please don't take this as instruction or something to follow. We are all different and you need to question my experience for your own circumstance and structure, including the very first bullet point below.) 

• Feet on straight.
• Both feet on straight.
• Heel strike-small toe mound-big toe mound-push off-inner arch spring up to core line of body (including psoas and diaphragm)-back of leg contracting to bend knee and extend hip and allow leg to swing forward and start again. Watch this simple yet profound video with Leslie Kaminoff explaining it to see what I am talking about.
• I very recently realized that I need to relax the hip joint to literally allow the leg to swing forward rather than hauling it forward. I also realized that deep and subtle gripping of the hip in the swing phase of walking is why I used to have no contralateral movement during walking. If the hip joint doesn't relax, then other parts of the body will either overcompensate (such as the hip flexors) or try to do the job (such as the hip hiker quadratus lamborum). As Jonathan FitzGordon says: "Each step is meant to be a spinal twist that rotates the vertebrae, works the core, and tones the surrounding organs. If we move correctly the body maintains and heals itself from the wear and tear of daily life."
• Unencumbered movement of the diaphragm and taking a full breath. What this means in practice for me is to become aware of whether I am holding tension and rigidity in the bottom of my ribcage. When I realize that I am tense in that area, I usually need to simply let go of jamming that part of my spine forward. Which is that part? This is junction of the thoracic and lumbar vertebrae (T12-L1), the hinge between your chest and low back, the solar plexus. This is also the place where walking meets breathing in the words of Tom Myers. It is the place where the psoas (walking) fascially connects with the diaphragm (breathing). This has done wonders in allowing me to experience walking as a whole-body movement, movement that not only integrates the lower and upper body (where the ribcage undulates gently side to side responding to the movement of the feet, legs, hips and spine) but allows me to experience my viscera/internal organs dancing to the united rhythm of walking and breathing. In short, the front of the body is soft, not rigid.
• Closely related to this is also the idea of having the shoulders relaxed so as to allow the arms to hang and swing freely from their sockets. I believe that humans as a species are obsessed with what their shoulders should be doing and because we are bipeds, it's easy for us to try and force the shoulders in a posture that fulfills aesthetic and other societal norms/ideas, including a preoccupation with trying to fit in or appear in a certain  way. When I let go of the idea that I need to hold the shoulders in a particular position during movement such as walking, I realize how much space there is between the arms and the ribcage and how the arms move and swing freely as a result of that and get seamlessly integrated into walking. In fact, holding and immobilizing the shoulders in some imaginary idea of good posture is big reason for rigidity in the spine and in the ribcage, especially as related to breathing (it is also a big reason for arm flailing during walking, especially when in a hurry or other such suboptimal movement).
• Two other points I want to mention. When I walk, I also occasionally remember to think of getting taller as I am walking. I think of getting taller through the crown and the back of the head, so as to minimize my tendency to jut the chin forward and tense the front of the throat. This is related to my post on the smiling neck. It's a way of accessing my gravity line from the top (head and neck). I also let the tongue be calm and relaxed in my mouth.

Ultimately, walking for me is a practice of letting go. It's realizing that walking is about allowing your whole body to participate fully in this fluid, graceful, relaxed, yet stable and most human of movements. It's about shedding rigidity and allowing transformation.

In Defense of External Rotation

Yogis of all stripes view external rotation with ambivalence at best. I've heard many lamentations about coming to yoga and being very externally rotated and how yoga saved said person from being externally rotated.

OK, jokes asides, I think lateral/external rotation is usually poorly done (in life and in yoga asana practice) and, therefore, misunderstood and under-appreciated.

But first--external rotation of what, you ask? The hip, as we know, is that juncture where the thigh and the pelvis meet. My experience tells me that we need to consider the pelvis and the thigh separately when we talk of external rotation. Usually, external or lateral rotation refers to lateral rotation of the hip as a whole. To me, this view simplifies lateral rotation and deprives the concept of its usefulness and benefits. I am not sure how else to say this, but here it goes: I think that external rotation of the thigh bone (with the greater trochanter as the fulcrum of the rotation, since it is easily accessible and a good proxy for the head of the femur in the hip socket) coupled with internal rotation (or narrowing of the front) of the pelvis (with the inguinal ligament--or your hip crease from the hip point to pubic bone--as the focus of one's attention and condensing the front of the abdominal wall to activate/lift the abdominals to support the spine from the front) is the external rotation that is under-appreciated and rarely practiced. More on this later.

External rotation goes awry when we mindlessly or unknowingly take the pelvis along with the femur for the trip away from the midline. So by external rotation of the pelvis here I mean that the lip of the ilium bone is fanned open, causing the abdominal wall to distend forward and down and the back of the pelvis to become narrow and compressed, leading to an uptight, tight-ass situation so many of us are familiar with. Here is a yoga example caused broadly by tight hips:

Tight warrior 2

Why misunderstood? I think the first misunderstanding comes from the name (and therefore our understanding) of the deep muscles that are involved in external rotation, commonly known as the deep lateral rotators. The most famous of these is the piriformis and one that many yogis are familiar with. The others are: gemellus superior, obturator internus, gemellus inferior, obturator externus and quadratus femoris. Thomas Meyer calls them the deep six, because they are under the big butt muscle (the gluteus maximus).

The Deep Six: from top down--piriformis, gemellus superior, obturatur internus, gemellus inferior, (barely visible obturatur externus) and quadratus femoris. From http://info.visiblebody.com/bid/255757/Learn-Muscle-Anatomy-Lateral-Rotators.

Secondly, for deep psychological reasons (often established in very early childhood) such as a need to control, an ingrained desire to please (in the sense of avoiding anger or disapproval from another human being), and submissiveness, many of us (yours truly has been and tends to go there when under stress and duress) habitually grip or clench these muscles, causing full lateral rotation of the hip by recruiting the glutes in the process and by virtue of where they attach: back of the greater trochanter of the thigh on one end and the back of the pelvis (sit bone and foramen)/sacrum on the other. So when contracted, these muscles would tend to bring the thigh bone and the back of the pelvis closer to each other, causing for example a tucking of the tail between the legs (fear, submission, tension) and a flat butt/low spine. Fair enough.  

What is often overlooked is that these muscles, when properly used and optimally engaged are an essential part of what makes us human in the sense that we are the only animal that is bipedal and lives with its spine in an upright position. That is, these muscles (along with the hamstrings and glutes, for example) are hip extensors (and thus helpful spine uprighters) but, most importantly, pelvis stabilizers and antagonists to the powerful hip flexors in the front, whose ingrained pull is sadly reinforced and thoroughly misused by our sitting lifestyle and poor postural and walking habits.

So, one can say that these muscles lead to a posterior/tucked tilt to the pelvis and a counternutation (flattening) of the sacrum (and they can certainly do that as I mentioned above), but one can also say they prevent an anterior tilt of the pelvis, which is all too readily created by the following stellar line-up: iliacus, psoas, pectineus, anterior adductors (front inner thighs), tensor fasciae latae, rectus femoris and sartorius. Yes, these are your hip flexors. Yes, they are a formidable force to be reckoned with. Yes, they tend to overwork. Yes, they need to be balanced by the deep six, the hamstrings, and the adductor magnus, if we want to live up to our evolutionary yearning to stand upright. Below is an image which nicely shows the hip extension and pelvic stabilization function that the deep six perform.

Left most image: piriformis, coccygeus (part of pelvic floor) and obturator internus. Second from left: obturatur externus. Top right: piriformis from the front, as if you were facing someone and could see through their skin and the contents of their pelvis. Bottom right: coccygeus and quadratus femoris. From Grundy, John Hull (1982). Human Structure and Shape.

To come back to practice, useful and beneficial external rotation comes down to learning how to separate the movement of the leg from the movement of the hip point/pelvis, which will allow for the deep six to perform their pelvic stabilization and hip extension function optimally. So, for example, in a simple seated posture, like sukhasana (easy cross legged pose), it works like this: first, with the pelvis adequately supported (i.e. hips slightly higher than knees) ground evenly and straight down through the sit bones, keeping the sit bones widening from the inside; then, turn your attention to your hip creases (or the line of connection between your hip points--ASIS--and your pubic bone; aka your bikini line): from hip point to pubic bone in that direction, firm and deepen the hip creases into the body as you lift the torso up and out of the legs from there; at the same time, release the greater trochanters of the thighs away from the sides of the pelvis and down towards the floor.

When you balance these two actions, the narrowing of the hips points in the front (what I called internal rotation of the pelvis in the beginning of this article) with the external rotation of the thigh bones, you were hopefully able to create space and release in the front groin area (psoas, pectineus, to name a couple) without clenching the butt, narrowing the sit bones and/or tucking the tailbone, none of which will bring any release anywhere (front, back, sides). You can experiment with this in many other poses like the raised leg in (supta) padangustasana A and B or (reclining) big toe pose, front leg of trikonasana, standing leg of urdhva prasarita ekapadasana (standing splits), to name a few. In all of these suggested poses, keep the deep core line of the body active by pressing through the big toe mound of the foot and the outer heel, while drawing up through the inner ankle.

You can apply the same idea in both the front and the back leg of warrior 1 (feet in two separate lanes, please, like you are on skis). In this pose, in order to create a stretch and a release in the front of the pelvis for both the front and the back leg sides, I think of both legs externally rotating, but not in the same way. The front leg and that side of the pelvis would do what I just described above. The back leg will be turned out to the degree that the back foot is turned out, which let's face it, is turned out 45-60 degrees. That is, the center of your knee cap should not be twisting to face the front of your mat, but should be in line with where toes #2 and #3 are facing, so more diagonal if you wish. With this established, turn the back hip point forward and around towards the other hip point without taking your leg with it. Then, lift from the pit of the belly to turn the torso more to the front and feel how this creates a stretch in the front of the back hip without straining the ligaments there.

So such integrated external rotation gives much needed space to the femoral triangle that I talked about in my previous post.

Further, looking at leg and pelvis rotation separately can give you a lot of feedback about your own body. For example, a leg can be internally rotated while that side of the pelvis can be fanned out (externally rotated) at the same time. Moreover, this can change based on whether the hip is in extension or flexion.

I hope this gives you food for thought and practice. I've wanted to write this article for a long time. It was probably one of the reasons why I started this blog in the first place. Thank you for reading!

Why Internal Rotation of the Legs Is Misunderstood

In yoga, we have a love affair with internally rotating the legs. Down dog: turn the legs in. Standing forward fold (uttanasana): turn the legs in. The list goes on. It goes to the point of where internal rotation of the legs is seen as a panacea--a cure-all for aches, pains, misalignments and imbalances-- and external rotation of the legs, as a consequence, is seen at best as mostly undesirable.

The reality, as always, is quite more nuanced than that. Simply mechanically turning the legs in, which in my opinion has little to do with the muscles of your inner thighs (also known as the adductors), produces a bunch of unintended consequences.

It leads to overuse and tension in the tensor fascia lata and the gluteus minimus (two muscles on the outer thigh and hip) that medially/internally rotate the thigh bone/femur, among other movements. To feel what I am talking about, take your fingertips just below and outside of your hip point (ASIS) at the front of your pelvis and turn that knee in toward the other leg. Regardless of your position, you will feel the muscle jump into your fingertips and engage. If you do it more forcefully, you will most likely produce gripping, which will also move along your hip crease and deep into the groin. Now, imagine doing that faithfully and enthusiastically in your yoga practice on a consistent basis. In essence, you are creating a pinch in the front of your pelvis, in that emotionally charged site of sexuality, digestion, survival, to name a few.

Further, simply turning the legs in like that, from the outside if you will, strains and compresses the femoral triangle--home of  the femoral nerve, femoral artery, femoral vein, femoral ring/canal (lymph nodes, drainage). The femoral triangle is basically the armpit of the thigh. Its boundaries are: the inguinal ligament (your hip crease from hip point to pubic bone), adductor longus (one of inner thigh muscles), and the upper portion of the sartorius (from the hip point to where it meets the adductor longus on its way down and in to the inner knee). Here is a visual:

Femoral triangle (boundaries discussed above pictured with dotted line). From http://home.comcast.net/~wnor/antthigh.htm

Femoral triangle with psoas, iliacus, and pectineus. From http://www.massagetherapy.com/articles/index.php/article_id/417/Danger-and-Excitement-in-The-Femoral-Triangle.

As you can see, there isn't much space for the vascular and nerve contents of the anterior thigh. They are bunched up between the pectineus (the shortest of the inner thigh muscles, which runs from pubis to the lesser trochanter on the inside of the thigh) and the psoas tendon as it crosses over the lip of the ilium (the pelvic bone) in front of the hip joint on its way to the femur where it attaches close to the pectineus. It's Singapore-style population density with prime real estate in there!

Mechanically turning the legs in like this also displaces whole muscle compartments from their intended locations and functions. It basically takes everything in this area in one direction only (down and in), unintentionally taking the quads, especially the rectus femoris, towards the midline of the body, which is not where they are supposed to be. Thus, indiscriminately turning the legs in serves to create less differentiation, and therefore less freedom, between the front of the pelvis and the front of the thigh, which is, in essence, another way of sitting on your desk, in your car, or slouching in front of the TV. I've noticed, for example, that when trying to sit "properly" in my work chair with my thighs parallel to each other (which in a sitting position basically means internally rotated thighs) that I feel much worse (as in tight-groined and tight-hipped)  than when I am sitting in my chair with my thighs in a V shape (not too turned out and definitely not turned in).

I do realize that I might be exaggerating a little bit. Some of you will say that it's not about turning the legs in (and it definitely isn't), but about taking the inner thighs back. I don't disagree. But I would venture to say that when most people hear the instruction to take the inner thighs back, they will turn their legs in from the outside like I described above. In other words, they will simply internally rotate their legs.

It's quite a bit more subtle than that. The inner thighs activate from the ground up, more specifically from the lift of the inner arches of the feet via the tibialis posterior muscle (which starts deep in the foot, goes up the back of the shin bone and connects to the inner thighs), which is another way of saying that the inner thighs are part of the deep core line of the body. When the inner arches activate, the inner thighs, especially the adductor magnus, hug to the femur/thigh bone, only this doesn't adduct the thigh bones (i.e. bring them closer to each other), it actually creates abduction of the thighs from the inside (i.e. moves thigh bones away from each other laterally, which is not the same as rotating them) and creates space in the pelvis and hips.

These days, I rarely, if ever, tell my students to turn their legs in or take their inner thighs back. I tell them to lift the inner arches of the feet up towards the core of the pelvis to activate the inner thighs. To make it more subtle, I tell them to draw from the big toe balls of the feet back towards the high point of the arch (just in front of the heel bone) and lift that energy up into their inner thighs, literally activating the core line of the body. When the inner thighs are activated in this way, then you can tell them to "go back and apart," without actually having to rotate the thigh bones. This feeling of the inner thighs going back and apart is a function of the anatomy of the adductor magnus, which looks like the mainsail of a boat (see image below). Then the armpit of the leg softens, deepens, and feels more open.

Adductor magnus: as seen from the back (left most image). You can see its mainsail shape and its role in stabilizing the pelvis. The sketch in the middle schematizes the magnus and shows you how the muscle twists. The right most image shows you the thigh from the front. From Grundy, John Hull (1982). Human Structure and Shape.

So, for example in down dog or uttanasana, with the feet on straight and about hip width apart, draw from the balls of the feet back towards the high point of the arch right in front of the heel and lift that energy up into the inner thighs and the core of the pelvis. Then, ground down through the outer heels without losing the lift of the arches and resist the inner thighs away from each other without changing the position of your feet/heels. The pit of your belly will probably hollow out and lift by itself, your low back will feel broad and supported, and your hips won't grip.

Let me know what you think and if this prompted any questions. I think my next post will naturally focus on external rotation of the legs, which is equally misunderstood but very under-appreciated in the world of yoga asana.

How to Release Groins of Steel

Short answer: stop digging your heels! I came to this insight as I was riding my bike (which I do every day to and from work). Basically, I realized that when I press more through the balls of my feet (which is what should be on the pedals, by the way, as opposed to your arches or some other part of your foot) as I pedal forward and straighten my leg while biking, my frontal groins release and don't tighten up as much compared to when I press equally through the ball of the foot and the heel. In other words, I plex or floint my feet while biking (without keeping them rigidly in that position) as opposed to overly dorsiflexing my foot (in essence, digging my heels as I pedal).

As you can probably tell, I am a big fan of finding ways to release the groins, since mine are made of steel. There is definitely a structural issue at stake, but that's a tendency in and of itself, which can be either exacerbated or actively coaxed towards a more middle ground.

So I had been experimenting with this idea while biking for some time and then found further to explore at a recent workshop with Doug Keller, who is very often mentioned in my posts. I don't have the opportunity to study as regularly or as much with him as I would like, but our rare encounters lead to substantial explorations, evolutions and insight. In this workshop, I learned the following mantra: big toe mounds = mobility, heels = stability. I know, right? You don't have to be complex to be brilliant!

This idea is borne out by modern anatomy theories, specifically Tom Myers' Anatomy Trains concept and related elaborations such as the work of Doug Keller, Jenny Otto, Megan Davis and others.

Here is how I see it:
The heel is one of the major bony stations or points in the Superficial Back Line (SBL) or the Postural Sutra as Doug Keller calls it. This is the line that runs from the soles of your feet, up the whole back of the body over the head and stops just above your eyebrows. It is the myofascial line in the body that allows us to stand upright and moves us fwd as we walk, and includes the amazing hamstrings and the erector spinae muscles, the latter acting like ropes to keep you erect and also being instrumental in creating the secondary curves of the spine (low back and neck).

Superficial Back Line from http://crossfitsweatshop.com/2012/07/10/superficial-back-line/

The crucial point here is that this line connects the heel to the sacrum. Thus, the heel is instrumental in creating sacroiliac (SI) joint stability. This happens not only through the clear and straightforward myofascial connections of the SBL (sole of foot-heel-calves-hamstrings-sacrotuberous ligament-erector muscles-etc.) but also through the functional connection of the SBL with the gluteal muscles. Myers places the trio of the glutes (maximus, medius and minimus) in a separate Lateral Line, but Keller functionally includes them in his postural sutra because of their central importance to posture, including low back and hip joint stability.

Keller's inclusion of the gluteals, which when properly engaged stabilize the sacrum (and are fascially connected to it, esp. the maximus), is reinforced by another connection, that of the heel and the piriformis.

Priformis in red: under the glutes from http://www.starchiropracticandnutrition.com/chiropractic-symptoms/buttock-conditions/piriformis-syndrome/

Notice how the direction of the fibers of the piriformis is very similar to that of the gluteals and how the glutes and piriformis have a strong fascial connection to the sacrum on one end and the outer top thigh on the other end. The two piriformis muscles join into one across the front of the sacrum, whereas the glutes act on the fascia that covers the top of the sacrum.  So these fasciae in essence sandwich the sacrum from the front and the back.

Consider the most basic human action: walking. At the moment when the heel strikes the ground, the piriformis force closes the SI joint to literally prevent it from dislocating (this is one of the reasons we can walk and not fall apart at the seams!). Then, if all goes well, the weight travels to the pinky toe mound (base of 5th metatarsal), creating the lateral arch of the foot in the process. Then, we move from the pinky toe mound to the big toe mound (creating the transverse arch), at which point we push off the ground with the big toe mound (creating the medial arch of the foot or the spring in your step, basically activating the deep core line in the body) and contract the back line of the body (hamstrings and glutes, for example) to free that leg off the ground, swing it forward and start all over again.

Why all this? To demonstrate that the heel is indeed a fundamental point of stability in the body. However, to paraphrase Jenny Otto, we first need to find release in order to create meaningful (read: optimal, healthy, effective) engagement. If you are already tight, bound and wound up, your attempt to engage will result in over-contraction, gripping and overworking.

This is where the plexing/flointing of the foot comes in and the idea of big toe mound = mobility. If you are having trouble with the idea of plexing and flointing, just think of what your foot does in the push off phase of walking (described above), an action of "stepping on the gas" which translates up through the ankle, the deep posterior compartment of the shin and then onto the inner thighs, pelvic floor and iliopsoas complex, that is, your groins!

How does this translate into practice? The simplest and most efficient way to feel what I am talking about (the idea is courtesy of Doug Keller) is to come into a low lunge with the right foot forward to start and your fingertips in cup shape on either side of the foot (or hands on blocks if the floor is to far away and you are starting to hunch in the back) like this:

Low lunge from http://freretstreetyoga.com/asanas.html

Now, lift your front heel slightly off of the floor, with the weight placed on the ball of the big toe, and feel how this not only activates the inner arch of the foot and lifts the inner thighs to the bone, allowing the thigh to spiral out a bit, but also allows the groins to  release, lengthen and descend. The see-saw principle is at work here (allowing the top of the thigh bone to settle into the hip socket). Here is a visual (in a more advanced version) of what I am talking about demonstrated beautifully by Shawn Parell (look at front foot and leg):

Shawn Parell from http://www.shawnparell.com/#!services/ck0q

To me, this is active release or freed engagement, because it simultaneously activates and releases the deep core line of the body. After you feel that, you can slowly release your outer heel to the floor to create stability. You can experiment with this idea in many other poses: warrior 1, warrior 2, side angle, for example.

I also find this extremely helpful and beneficial in externally rotated poses such as reclined ankle over knee pose (sucirandhrasana or eye of the needle pose):

Eye of the needle pose from http://www.freretstreetyoga.com/asanas.html

The standard instruction here (and one I have given plenty of times) is to flex the top foot so as to protect the knee. However, notice how this locks the groin/inner thigh as well as the outer hip areas and is, in essence, digging your heels but in a different spatial orientation. Now, floint/plex your foot like we discussed (with the inner and outer ankle hugging evenly towards the midline) and feel how the inner thigh releases from the pubic bone towards the inner knee, the thigh bone spirals out, and the outer thigh/hip area is not gripping for dear life. For more advanced practitioners, this idea can really help in your explorations of padmasana (lotus pose). Please note that none of the above in any way implies sickling the ankle like this:

Sickled ankle (green outline)-- a sure way to hurt the ankle and the knee above it. From http://www.womenshealthmag.com/fitness/ankle-exercises.

Finally, here is a video of a supta baddha konasana variation--this is an active groin release, not a passive one. It involves a strap, so go get one (the longer the better; if not, you might need to connect two straps to make a long one). The video will show you how to loop the strap around your feet, shins and thighs. Notice that the heels are not together in this variation, only the toes and the balls of the feet are touching, the heels never touch. Once you get there, anchor your upper arm bones against the floor. As you pull on the tails of the strap, actively press the balls of the feet into each other and resist the heels away from each other (same idea as above). At the same time, lift your heels away from the floor, as if someone is prodding the outer heels and the outer edges of the feet up from underneath. By this time, you will probably feel a stretch from the pubic bone through the upper inner thigh. Don't forget to breathe and keep space between the upper and lower jaw. Also, your buttocks will be working, but don't confuse working with overworking and gripping. If you feel like you are gripping, think of broadening the buttocks away from the sacrum and lengthening the center of the buttocks away from the top of the pelvis in the back. Finally, check once or twice to see that the heels are evenly lifting away from the floor. Often one will be higher than the other, as in the upright version--you  might also be able to discern this from the tone of your buttocks against the floor/mat. Enjoy! Let me know what you think and if this was helpful.

Thank you for reading! A bientôt!!