Downard-facing triangle has to be one of the most popular poses of the social media age. Otherwise known as Down Dog, it's a core part of many styles of yoga and is treated almost as a 'resting' pause in more vigorous vinyasa sequences.

In Move Within Yoga, all our poses are 'resting' to some extent. By adopting poses for a period of time, blockages in our physical body are released. By observing the free flow of breath and actively guiding our body into further openness, we also release congestion in our prana, or etheric body - the invisible sheath around our physical being that belongs to nature and is interwoven with our thoughts. Prana literally means life-energy.

Downward triangle looks like a triangle and, just like any other triangle pose, is a representation of the three planes of human existence: our body, our soul and spirit. On a more physical level, all triangle poses consist of the Big Three: light head and neck, stable legs and hips, and an active dynamic middle or solar plexus chakra. The mid-area corresponds to the apex of our triangle. The more we guide the middle, the more perception we develop about this chakra. The more we can gather attention to the solar plexus, the more force is concentrated here and the more dynamic the pose becomes.

To get more of an expansion out of this rather closed-in-on-itself pose, slowly lift one leg up until it meets natural resistance. Don't push the leg up higher than it's naturally able to move. Instead, continue to build focus in the solar plex, straighten the standing leg and then test the raised leg. I say test because it's a checking in with the raised leg: has the body softened and opened to allow a further gradual guiding up? Usually, the student finds it can indeed raise the leg a little higher without force or strain. Return back to the solar plexus and again test the leg. No matter how high you manage to raise the leg, observe the expansionary quality of the solar plexus and the triangle pose.

What gets overlooked in the practice of yoga is developing rhythm in our practice. In dance, rhythm is essential and built-into the movement, the musical beats informing the patterns with our bodies. In yoga, the rhythm is subtler. When practicing in silence, as I often do in classes and in my own practice, it's incumbent upon the individual to develop a rhythm in its patterns of movement, as well as sequence of poses and the relationship between spirit and the body's more vital energies.

Musical rhythms are based on patterns between sounds and silences, notes and pauses, allegros and adagios. In yoga, we can move to music to help get into the groove. Music is fun to move to for this reason - we can let the rhythm carry us away. There is no question music aids practice on those days when we're overtired or weary. But without music, we're forced to 'move within'. We're forced to go within one's being, beneath the skin, and it's discipline that spills into every aspect of life. To develop rhythm in yoga means going within, observing the natural rhythms and patterns between our thoughts and feelings, our feelings and willpower, our willpower and thoughts.

The larger rhythm of our daily practice is also cultivated from within, listening to our body's calls and needs and noticing our mental demands and pressures. Sometimes the body and mind are truly aligned, sometimes there is a tug-of-war, but observing what goes on within determines a frequency to our movement -- a frequency and tempo between stillness and exercise we can actively cultivate. What also arises in a rhythm in working on asanas that we struggle with and need a bit of tender loving care and those that we already have accomplished.

The dove or kapotasana represents rhythm, a rhythm between upper body and pelvis and legs, and a rhythm between the "holy dimension of the spirit" with the world of visible creation. Physically entering into the final pose, which I'm trying to do here, is alternatively working with the hips and legs and the upper body, the upper body and the pelvis. Once the tension in the legs start to dissolve, I shift to the spine. Once the spine elongates, I shift attention back to the lower half of the body and so on. The rhythm itself softens the body like sand.

When you're feeling low, or feeling old, or thinking it's just too late to start moving or exercising, you need to have weight-lifting duo John and Johnnie in mind.

The brothers-in-law were winners in their respective age brackets at the 2019 Pan-American Masters weight-lifting Championship held earlier in the summer in Orlando, Florida. Both are over the age of 60, with John aged 72 and a medical history that includes open-heart quadruple-bypass surgery, hernia repair and a knee replacement.

They were recent front-page feature items in a local weekly Michiana newspaper, "The Beacher" and in another coincidence, echoed what I had been thinking about for weeks, if not months: that you're never too old to move, the importance in having a fitness buddy and the importance in continuing some form of movement as you age, because if you have a hard time walking ten miles at 50, you'll have a tougher time aged 70. If you have a hard time finding a half an hour in an average day to move at age 40, how will you even be able when you're older?

"At our age, you really do have workouts that are just not good, but you need those, too, to sustain your strength," Johnnie said. "At our age, if we skip two weeks, it would really set you back."

“You’ve got to be willing to work out on the bad nights. At our age, there are bad nights, but you do the best you can so you sustain what you built up. Some-times, we push each other through a bad workout to keep things going," he said. "There are nights, you go down there and you say, ‘Oh, I feel terrible,’ and you do an OK workout.

"And even though we know we will be able to lift less next year, we train like we’re going to lift more.”

The full story of duo Johnnie Hudson and John Seppyes (by Andrew Tallackson in The Beacher):
http://www.thebeacher.com/pdf/2019/BeacherJul25.pdf

As a kid, I loved "Ripley's Believe It or Not" and was fascinated by the Guinness Book of World Records,  but never thought I'd participate in any of these contests and challenges. It was never an aspiration. I've never even played on a sports team, ever. I've never even participated in the most basic of competitions and contests: those "challenges" on social media. The idea of starting a seven-day challenge on say doing the Scorpion might sound cool on the first day but by the third it's likely I've lost all motivation with Life tugging my attention onto other poses, interests and quite honestly demands. Life dangles its carrots or sticks, and gets in the way of the best-laid plans of this particular mouse.

But here I was on an early Saturday morning heading into NYC to participate in the Guinness Book of World Records official attempt at the "Most People Doing a Handstand". Life held out this big, fat, juicy colorful carrot and off I was to Foley Square, and the experience was positively positive, hilarious and I couldn't stop smiling and laughing. The contrast of the physical, cardiovascular and muscular demands - extremely high - with the stunt-like, attention-grabbing nature of butts in the air along Lafayette Street struck me funny and made me happy.

The questions during the event by my follow participants and that followed were interesting. How many people are here? Will we get the much-coveted 400 people to beat the old record? How many were there? Did we succeed? Did you succeed? How long did I personally stand on my hands? How long did everyone else stand on their hands? Did we all need to hold the handstand at the exact same time? When will we find out?

It's so interesting to observe the human mind at work, constantly measuring and weighing, looking for the weak link or chink. And of course that's exactly what the Guinness Book of Records people will be doing when they replay the video of the several hundred of us out there, jumping up to catch a pocket of air, and even fewer of us being able to hold that advanced pose.

But whether we succeeded seems beside the point. People who couldn't stand on their hands were there, people of all ages and abilities turned out, people were willing to take a chance, try and participate in this group endeavor. I was next to a woman who could barely get a leg up and I almost fell on top of her during one attempt of mine, legs akimbo and giggling through promises not to hurt her. In return I asked if she needed a "leg up" so to speak and held her legs while she experienced being upside down for a few seconds. As she tumbled out of it, she had the biggest smile on her face. 

I have a hunch we didn't succeed in our quest, but I learned something about this pose: you cannot help but be happy getting on those hands. The best experiences don't often match our Earthly gauges of success.