When to rest, when to push

Finding pleasure may be the answer to a lot of our problems

First of all, thank you for being here. Writing these essays is one of the things I’m pushing myself to do, and it’s so worth it. It brings me a lot of pleasure, and I hope you get something out of it too.

The path doesn’t have to be so steep.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about not going out for my hikes, even though I have easy access and it’s something I love deeply. I was forgiving to myself, which was appropriate given my recent back surgery.

But when is it time to get out again? We’re all recovering from something. When is it time to step up the yoga practice, cook more vegetables, or take a walk, even if none of it sounds appealing? When is it time to back off, to let our goals recede, to skip the gym, or at least lighten up about what we do there?

One of the most perplexing yoga sutras (for me) is sthira sukham asanam or “yoga is the balance between effort and ease”. The idea is straightforward enough, but in practice, the target is constantly moving. We often don’t know we’ve missed the mark until we feel the effects of too much effort (injury and burnout) or too much ease (emotional, mental, or physical collapse). How do we know what’s not too much and not too little?

From the injuries that I’ve sustained and my history of burnout, I know my tendency is to push too hard. I recently found a photo of my 18-year-old self, spine hunched, giving my tall, solidly built brother a piggyback ride. It was a bit of a party trick we did, and even though I didn’t feel it at the time, 30 years later, it definitely hurts. 

A friend of mine who has a couple of limiting injuries told me she can’t do physical therapy because she never follows through with the exercises. I didn't understand her use of the word can't, and I didn’t understand her opposition to something I think of as indispensable for healing. I realized later that her tendencies are just different from mine. I’m guilty too. Recently, reminded by a friend not to lift a sofa, I told him that I can't possibly not do it. As much as she has always ignored her PT homework, I have always ignored advice to protect my back. Clearly, when taken too far, both ways of being lead to ill health.

Ayurveda teaches that health comes from balance, which requires cultivating a bit of the opposite. If you’re lethargic, take an active yoga class. If you are rushing around all the time, go to restorative. Yoga teachers know that almost no one heeds that advice. That’s because these ways of operating in the world are hardwired, and it’s really hard. The idea is that we approach change a bit at a time so that it might be sustainable.

Right now, I feel the need to return to more movement, yet my tendency to push too hard means I need to consciously ease into it. Yesterday, I went to a trail I hadn’t hiked in months. There’s a long uphill section, and I love the feeling of my breath quickening and my legs working and the sweet relief making it to the top. As much as I was craving it, when the turn for my old route came, I took the flatter, shorter path. I walked slower and saw more. That hill isn’t going anywhere.

Yet I moved a lot of furniture this weekend. I’ve been sneaking in deep forward folds, which is not the direction my spine should be moving right now. I’m not getting the balance right all of the time, or even most of the time. But since change is incremental, I know that I don’t have to.

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The question is how to strike that balance more accurately. In other words, how do we move through life with a moderate amount of effort, not too much, not too little? Back to the sutra, let’s define sukha as sweetness and sthira as steadiness, as they often are.

Sweetness on my mat means choosing the poses I love and letting myself be there for as short (or as long) as I like. It means listening to my body and moving intuitively, without ther need to produce some particular outcome, like building strength or obtaining a pose. The pleasure and ease of my practice support my ability to be stable and consistent. Conversely, since pain and exhaustion don’t typically coexist with pleasure, taking the time to experience what I love will slow me down and bring more ease, even if the practice is vigorous. It works both ways.

And sometimes it’s worth climbing the mountain…

I turned 48 on Sunday. I’m not dismayed by that number; I’m amazed. I never guessed that 48 would feel like this, and it’s not bad at all. Like all of us, I want to feel healthy and vibrant well into the coming decades. Sometimes that means building more consistency and stability in my life. In a lot of ways, it means more sweetness and a bit less effort. It always means remembering that things will work out, and I don’t have to try so hard.

How’s it going for you? Is there a way to lighten up in an area of your life that makes you feel depleted? Or would a touch more effort be helpful somewhere? Either way, how can finding more pleasure in what you do make small shifts possible?

We can’t do everything, and in the end, we do what matters most to us. Maybe the sweetness lies in letting go of the need to do anything at all.

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PS Restorative poses and savasana are great for everyone. If you’re like me and struggle with being still, try using a yoga nidra recording or body scan. I have some here.)