The Raft

There’s a Buddhist parable that has been resonating with me over these past few weeks. It goes something like this.

A man needs to cross a river. He can’t walk or wade across because it’s too deep. He could swim, but the currents are swift. He decides to build a raft and paddle across. It takes a lot of time and effort to gather up reeds, leaves, branches, and logs and weave them together into a structure that will float. But with persistence and time he gets his raft built.

The day finally comes and he hops onboard and toils across the river to the other side. It wasn’t an easy trek, but he makes it! Now that he has crossed the river, he is not sure of what to do with his one-of-a-kind creation. His back hurts and his hands have blisters and bruises. He has a lot of time and effort invested building this thing—sweat equity is an embodied currency. Should he carry the raft with him in case he needs to cross another body of water? Should he leave it for someone else who may need it to travel over this same river? Should he burn the wood and make a fire to stay warm for the night? What to do?

The thing is, if he’s going to be walking on land, he no longer needs a raft. It’s cumbersome shape will make it hard to maneuver through the woods and will surely slow him down. Like a lot of things in life, it’s hard to let go of something you have such an investment in. An asset that has been extremely valuable at one point in your life is hard to put down and walk away from, even if no longer serves you. That’s what our friend is struggling with. The raft represents his attachments.

Eventually, he decides to leave the raft and carries on with his journey, having the wisdom to understand that a vessel meant to travel on the water will be a burden if he continues to carry it on land. The tool simply doesn’t fit the job. When and if he encounters another river, he knows he possesses the skills necessary to build another raft…probably more efficiently.

This story is a nice metaphor for our lives, especially at a time of year when people are making New Year’s resolutions. Truth be known, I’m not a big fan of resolutions. They often are based in some sort of external expectation of behavior or are often driven by guilt or a negative self story. Maybe, instead of making a resolution, we simply decide what ways of thinking or being no longer serve us. And like the raft, we can understand that for a time these things had an important role in our story, but they are no longer appropriate for the chapters ahead. Wisdom requires discernment. Willful detachment and courage are required to change and adapt. Life is a series of adaptations. We don’t have to place a negative value on what came before, but simply understand that a new way of being is only possible if we allow some space for it.

Smile, Yawn & Shine a light

In the summer of 2019, I was at a crossroads and unsure of my place within the Yoga community. At the time, the Yoga community was plagued with abuse scandals and I had grown disillusioned with many of the narratives being put forth by my teachers and peers. Luckily I had a moment in a Yoga Teacher training at Mind Body Solutions in Minnesota that was pivotal in helping me regain my footing.

Sometime in the middle of the workshop, our teacher Matthew Sanford challenged us with the opportunity to work with one of his students for a few hours on something specific. My group’s task was to work with breathing and our student/teacher was Sammy. Sammy is a long time student of Matthew and is quadriplegic. Yoga-type breath work for Sammy can be challenging because her neck and jaw muscles control most of her voluntary breathing.

Let me pause and say that I absolutely L.O.V.E. teaching breath. I think some of the struggles I’ve had in my own body and my experience as a singer definitely inform how I approach and teach breathing. So I was very excited for this challenge. I was also just happy to work with Sammy. In all of my trips up to Minnesota, we had never had the opportunity to work together. She beams and at that time I desperately needed light.

We lifted Sammy out of her chair and placed her on a mat with her upper body elevated by blocks and a bolster. I suggested that we start by massaging her jaw and neck. As one of my fellow teachers began the massage, I asked Sammy to yawn. This is something I do often with my voice students. When we yawn our neck muscles stretch and our soft palate lifts. What I hoped was that we might create relief in Sammy’s neck and jaw, but what I noticed was her breath traveled deep into her belly—something that she has a hard time doing on her own. I asked Sammy if she noticed that and she smiled a big smile and said “Yes.” Bingo, we have a connection. One of my peers said, “I’m just gonna step back and support this.”

So yawning became our breath practice. The other teachers lead her through some twists and different shapes and on occasion I would place my hand on her ribs or belly etc. and ask her to yawn and notice the breath traveling deep into her body. It was magical. She told me after, “I will definitely include yawning in my practice from now on.”

What this experience taught me is that having a specialized lens is good, but it can also be limiting. You need to be able to pan out and see the big picture. Your techniques are only good if they serve the student. I don’t claim to be a master teacher by any stretch, but I am damn good at paying attention to my students. Compassion and curiosity are my guides. If I had only showed up with my Yoga breathing toolbox, I most certainly would’ve missed this and Sammy would have too.

I almost didn’t make my annual trip Minnesota that year. It took a lot to get me on the plane and I’m thankful to my peers for keeping me grounded that week. But most of all, I’m grateful for Sammy. Sammy, thank you for being a wonderful teacher. This moment with you is one of my most cherished memories and is the most pivotal in my teaching journey—you shined a light on the path and kept my feet moving. I don’t believe I’d be teaching right now if it weren’t for you. I’m forever indebted!

Connection over Correction

What if when we moved our bodies and interacted with them, we made the conscious decision to connect with them as opposed to correcting them? This requires a practice of deep listening and patience. When we find places in the body that have tightness or intense sensation maybe instead of immediately trying to stretch or fix that place, we asked ourselves “What is that about?” This way we are not assigning a value to our experience and may discover ourselves patterning into certain movements that are yielding outcomes we don’t particularly like. Now there is the possibility to make another choice or take another approach. Ex: Often the places we stretch habitually need to be strengthened, not stretched, etc.

One of the main reasons I have issues with certain types of yoga styles is that many are too dogmatic, often idealizing postures and forgetting that a shape is simply a vehicle to explore ourselves. We are all pressured enough by expectations placed on our bodies that aren’t our own. Our practice doesn’t have to be another place we engage in that sort of dialogue. Move, breathe, reflect … it’s not that serious. Example: When you find yourself micromanaging your foot position in Warrior I or ask yourself “Why?” If it’s because you feel stable and grounded, or you’re relieving tension in your hip or knee, or you feel more balanced, etc … then great. If it’s because a teacher told you that’s the “right” way to do the shape, question that and see if it’s “right” for you. This is your body and this is your practice. When moving it ask yourself, “Am I connecting to my body or correcting it?” There’s nothing wrong with you. You are inherently whole. You do not have to be fixed or micromanaged. Connect to yourself and see what you discover.

Yoga and Advanced Aging, Part 4: Teaching in Assisted Living, Skilled Nursing, and Memory Care Spaces →

“It’s your birthright to live into your entire body.” Matthew Sanford

Part 4: Grounding, Rhythm, and Movement

In Part One of this series we explored the atmospheric challenges of teaching in Senior Care spaces and focused on being creative and looking for hints of connection. In Part Two we discussed the importance of creating a welcoming community that can heal and transform by encouraging students to bring their stories into the space. We also looked at a few movements we might avoid with this population. Part Three was all about breathing and the body’s brilliance in using the breath as a problem-solving mechanism. We considered shifting our cueing in order to help students develop a more subtle relationship to the breath and body. In this fourth and final installment we will explore the grounding, rhythm, and movement.

Don’t Forget the Feet

I recently had a conversation with a yoga teacher who asked me to describe what it is I do. She said, “So, you get your students into parts of the shapes?” I replied, “I would argue there are no ‘parts of the shapes;’ you are either teaching a sensation of wholeness or you aren’t.” One of the things I frequently notice when observing Chair Yoga classes is that teachers often forgo mentioning the importance of how the feet and legs relate to spinal awareness and functional movement of the body.

“Chair yoga is not yoga from the waist up. Don’t forget the feet,” is something I preach in my workshops. The fact that many students with advanced aging sit for prolonged amounts of time, use wheelchairs, or need the assistance of walkers is all the more reason to cue them to use their legs to support their spines. By cueing through the feet and legs, not only are we building strength in the lower body and core, we are also getting more of the nervous system online.

We start the movement portion of my seated chair classes “walking in place.” As we move our legs, I ask students to walk their feet all the way out in front of their bodies and bring their awareness to how out of balance they just became from the waist up. We then walk our feet underneath our chairs and explore sensations from that position. I have them find the midpoint between those two extremes and ask them to notice the support the legs provide in this position. I cue them to firmly press down through their feet and use the strength of their legs to help them sit up a little taller. From there we explore how much effort we need to expend to maintain this posture. Efficient integration of our outer bodies leads to access into subtler spaces inside ourselves.

Rhythm is Powerful

Keeping the legs active in the posture above (aka Seated Mountain Pose), I ask my students to bring their awareness to their belly. Borrowing a cue I gleaned from renowned yoga therapy teacher Doug Keller, I playfully ask students to, “Imagine you’re putting on a ‘snug pair of pants.’ They've been in the dryer just a little too long. Button up those pants and keep them buttoned as you relax your ribs and breathe.” From there we begin to sway side-to-side, slowly creating circles, and rocking forward and back. All the while, I am cueing the feet, belly, and spine.

This sequence is the glue of my teaching and is my go-to transition. Knowing that rhythm is a powerful inroad to the nervous system, and swaying is usually accessible in some form or fashion for my students, I incorporate this sequence early and often. The repetition creates body memory and an anchor that students can return to if something we just attempted was difficult or challenging. In most cases, I will lose my students if I ask them to sit still in contemplation. So, we contemplate in movement.

Slow rhythmic movements are very calming and can be used as a grounding tool in chaotic environments. I had a student fall in class recently. We were all understandably concerned and dysregulated. While nurses and staff attended to the injured student, I led the students through a rocking and tapping sequence. We held our classmate in our hearts and extended our compassion to her. The energetic shift in the room was palpable within minutes. We were able to reset and continue with class as she received the medical care and attention she needed.

Functional Movements

Another way to incorporate rhythm is to gently move the joints. Shrugging the shoulders, wiggling the fingers, swinging the legs, lifting the heels and toes, shaking the head yes and no are all familiar access points into the body. When taught with mindful intention, these movements are great opportunities to create connection by layering in the breath and/or adding detailed focus.
Here are a few examples: 1) Shake out your hands, breathe in, and sigh it out, 2) Lift your shoulders up and breathe in, lower them down and breathe out, 3) Wiggle your fingers and then touch your fingertips with your thumbs, 4) Open your hands wide, now make a fist, open your hands wide and breathe in, breathe out as you make a fist.

Movement Across the Midline

Moving across the midline is a staple of my sequencing; the midline is an imaginary line down the center of the body that divides it into left and right. This type of movement stimulates both hemispheres of the brain, but for students with a stroke history, coordinating movement across the midline can be challenging. Choosing an accessible pace and teaching with patience encourages students to problem solve.

Here’s an example: Cross your arms and take your opposite hand to your opposite leg, slide your bottom arm out and place it on top, once you start moving keep moving. You may notice that one arm is easier to move than the other, that’s okay, go as slow as you need to. Notice your breath. Breathe out and take a gentle breath in and a slow breath out.

I usually shy away from using left/right cues. Left/right discrimination is one of the things that students with age-related cognitive decline and dementia struggle with. When I do cue lefts and rights, I start a sequence on a specific side and see how the class responds. If I feel like they’re able to follow those instructions fairly well, I will keep using left and right language as a cognitive exercise. If I find the class is having a hard time, I get creative with my approach.


Let’s take a look at a few different ways you could cue a sequence that requires contralateral coordination. 1) Lift your right arm up toward the ceiling, now lift your left leg; or 2) Lift one arm up toward the ceiling, now lift your opposite leg; or 3) Let your hands rest on your legs, take one arm up toward the ceiling, now lift the leg that you’re touching.

The sequence we just explored in the last paragraph requires students to move in multiple planes at once, i.e., across the midline and in the upper and lower body. You may have noticed that I cued movement in the upper body first, then the lower body. This allows the students find precision on one side before they cross the midline and add on. My pace is usually slow and deliberate. I might eventually layer in the breath or ask them to lift the legs and arms at the same time once they have settled in to the sequence. If students are having a difficult time managing a task, let them move without expectation of outcome. Sometimes things work, sometimes they don’t. Non-attachment and going with the flow are necessary when working with this population.

I thank you for reading this series, and encourage you to connect with your students, find your unique voice, and get creative as you share yoga with this population. Things that may not look like “yoga” can be incorporated into your classes when practiced in the spirit of unity and connection. Feel free to reach out to me at carey@careysimsyoga.com if you have any questions and I hope to see you again soon on the Accessible Yoga Blog.

This post was edited by Patrice Priya Wagner, co-editor of Accessible Yoga blog and member of the Board of Directors.

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