Showing posts with label Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Story. Show all posts

Friday, May 5, 2017

True Confessions My Yoga Story


by Baxter
Mugsy Watching Me Practice Yoga
Nina said it was time I told my story of coming to yoga, so here it is. But first, I should start by telling you what my life was like before I discovered yoga in 1994. Wow, were to start?! Let me encapsulate my schooling and work history in this way: I was always a studious kid and did well in my grade school, junior high and high school studies. I attended a college prep high school in Toledo, Ohio, St. Johns, run by the Jesuit order. I mention this because not only was it rigorous academically, but we also had religious studies as part of our curriculum, which at the time was of only nominal interest to me. But when I got to college and was studying pre-med, I decided to use some of my electives to take a course on the literature of the old and new testaments. This turned out to be a captivating set of courses that looked at how history and circumstance influenced religious texts. These exposures refined my feeling that I was more of a spiritual seeker than a member of a particular religious tradition.

From college, I went straight into med school and then into my family medicine residency and finally into a busy family practice, which I had been at for 5 years when I took my first yoga classes. Needless to say, my busy life was reflected in a busy mind! I recall having a classic “monkey mind” that was constantly reviewing my work decisions, and worrying about them, or dealing with the immediate intense decisions of the present day, or planning my next short and long term adventures. I worked a lot of hours, taking call on evenings during the week and every few weekends, so my free time felt precious and I tended to load it up with activities I enjoyed.

My relationship to my body at the time was not what it is today. I was relatively healthy, so I tended to use my body intensely in physical activity. I ran regularly, biked regularly, was an avid roller blader for a number of years, only to add in indoor and outdoor rock climbing, with the occasional winter ski trip thrown in for good measure. I was modestly competitive, and suspect I used these activities to deal with the stress I felt from my work. On the purely physical level, I was always of slender build, but I built muscle quickly, felt strong and had good stamina.  But, I had always felt stiff and inflexible, ever since high school cross country.

Enter my first exposure to yoga: my girlfriend at the time was over for the weekend and was doing a practice to a Rodney Yee video tape in my movie room (yes, I loved movies so much I called my TV room my movie room!). I believe the video was Yoga for Strength, and I happened to wander by and stopped to watch both her and the video for a moment. I was immediately attracted to the physicality of the practice I was seeing, and asked if I could join in. She just happened (was I set up?) to have an extra sticky mat, and I did just that. My stiff inflexible body was really challenged by the practice, but more surprising was the effect of the final relaxation, what we yoga practitioners come to love as Savasana. My busy, worrying, planning mind actually took a break, if even for just a few moments, and it was not like napping or sleeping. When it was over and I sat up, I felt a profound and welcomed sense of peace and calm that was rare for me. I had just discovered a discipline that could satisfy my need for physicality and could rest and refresh my mind and spirit! I came to discover over the next few years as I began to practice yoga on a regular basis that yoga had other benefits to offer beyond the welcome improvement in my flexibility. I also felt more balanced and strong in my body in ways my previous activities had not done. And the yoga had a wonderful balancing effect on my mental-emotional self, seemed to improve my concentration, and allowed me space to consider my life work and level of satisfaction in life.

As all these new discoveries around yoga were taking place, I came to realize that I had a growing dissatisfaction with some aspects of my work in modern medicine, especially the emphasis I saw in the system that prioritized profit over care in many instances. And one day my yoga teacher at the time asked me if I had ever considered teaching yoga, as he said that he recognized in me some of the same traits and tendencies he had experienced in his journey. I had never considered myself a teacher, but as I look back now, I was doing one-on-one and small group teaching every day with my patients, and it was that connection that was really one of the most satisfying parts of my work as a doctor. Well, this little seed of a question eventually germinated into the decision to take a temporary sabbatical from my doctoring in the Midwest and head to Oakland, CA in January of 2000 to enroll in the Piedmont Yoga Studio’s Advanced Studies program, a 680-hour, 18-month teacher training program. Interested in alternative medicine as well, I took the time during that period to study medical acupuncture as well, through the Helms Institute in Berkeley. My yoga training led me to fall deeper in love with the practice, which I would get to start sharing with others when my training was done! And as I learned my new skills as yoga teacher and medical acupuncturist, it became clearer that I was not destined to return to my previous life as a full time doctor, but that I wanted to re-invent my way of being a healer though my new roles as yoga instructor and acupuncturist!

Since then, my interest has turned to wanting to train the next generations of yoga teachers, wanting to share my experience as a medical doctor with yogis interested in going to the next level of training as yoga therapists, and continuing to spread the word about yoga’s benefits for many health issues we all face as we age. That about brings us up to today, and how my participation in YFHA satisfies my goals and hopefully is helpful to many of you.


What's your yoga story?


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Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Marias Story The Power of Yoga for Healing


by Beth
Maria Mendola, Age 57
Maria Mendola and I are senior faculty in Joseph LePage’s Integrative Yoga Therapy program. Maria teaches Applied Kinesiology and I often sit in on her classes. She shares personal life stories with the students, and one story about an accident 20 years ago that resulted in a brain injury, a broken back, and traumatic amnesia has always fascinated me. The class gets the short version but I was curious about the full story and the role yoga played in her recovery. When Nina asked me if I would interview Maria about that experience, I readily agreed. 

Beth: Tell me about the accident. 

Maria: So, the great accident. Every year, around the winter holidays, when my kids were little, we would go to Mexico for about a month to camp on the beaches. One day, I decided to take a bike ride on the country roads. The last thing I remember was looking to the left to see pink flamingos on a lagoon and thinking how beautiful it was. The next thing I remembered was waking up on the side of a ditch trying to stand up with blood pouring down my face. Then I remember a Mexican family dragging me into their pickup truck and taking me to what I later learned was a natal (birthing) hospital. I didn’t know who I was or where I was or what had happened to me. 

I remember people trooping into the room looking at me, trying to identify me. Finally, two guys came in and one said, “I know you. You camp on the beach every year with your family. You have little kids.” 

Back at the campground my saving grace was an American ER nurse who came to our RV with a first aid kit. She got me cleaned up, monitored my paralysis, diagnosed a concussion, and told us that she thought I had a massive hematoma. The folks in the campground formed a community and took care of me and my family until I was well enough to handle the drive home to Tucson, Arizona. 

Beth: Were you able to walk at this point? 

Maria: I still could not walk. I had some feeling in my left toes. They could move a little bit, but nothing else from the groin down and I had severe pain in my spine. When I did see a doctor I found out that I had a series of bad compression fractures in my thoracic spine. I was presented with a surgery option; a series of fusions to my thoracic and upper lumbar regions to support all the compression fractures. It was probably one of the biggest decisions that I made in my life. I said no.

Beth: Why? 

Maria: I was an orthopedic nurse at the time and I saw the sorts of surgery that were going on back then. Most people that had fusions and rods put in didn’t typically get better and often had more issues. I decided on my own, however foolish, that I would try to heal myself. The orthopedic surgeon was not happy with me and said I should have my license taken away and maybe I should have but I did get him to say that if my way didn’t work, I could come back and get the surgery. 

Beth: What was your healing plan? 

Maria: I started doing yoga when I was a teenager to PBS’s Lillias. That was my first experience. Then I started feeling how it was changing other parts of me—my psyche. I had a really abusive childhood so yoga was helpful for me. I was very aware of my body and I’d been learning how to relax it for years and how to tame my anxiousness and fears so I had that in my head and I decided to use it for my healing. 

Beth: What yoga tools did you use and how did they help you? 

Maria: I found that I was holding my breath because I was in so much pain. This was causing more pain and anxiousness so I began focusing on my exhales and getting them to lengthen (see Calming Breath Practices We Recommend). I worked with the three-part breath, alternate nostril breathing, and yoga nidra. The breathing helped calm me and helped me find longer periods of relaxation. It was helpful for my memory issues related to the head injury. The other techniques that were important to me were mudras (About Mudras for Healthy Aging). I used Adhi Mudra and Yoni Mudra. I also worked on range of motion, really slowly while elongating my spine and breathing into the tissues.  

Beth: How long did your recovery take? 

Maria: Within a month and a half I started to get more feeling back but every day was difficult. I have to admit that I got depressed at times, so depressed that I couldn’t even move. Honestly it took six years to come to a place where I felt nearly fully recovered. During that time there were a lot of stages. Sometimes I’d wake up and have full feeling and I’d be so excited and then the next day very little. The CAT scan looked awful but the doctors were amazed that my spinal cord somehow was healing. Now, I have to be mobile everyday. I can’t stand in one place. I can’t sit for longer than 30 minutes. I have all of these things but I feel healed. I also feel very proud that I took that journey but I’m not so certain I would go that route these days. 

Beth: What makes you say that? 

Maria: I keep up on all of the orthopedics because I teach anatomy of movement therapeutics and these days the orthopedics is much better so I feel like I would have more choices now.  

Beth: Did you ever recover your memory of the accident?  

Maria: Yes. During my two-week yoga teacher training a really weird thing happened during a partner Pascimottanasana. It was a sound. It went CLICK! And all of a sudden, I who could barely sit to do a 90-degree seated angle without being up on pillows went straight down, nose to knees and the whole thing came back to me in living color: being hit, flying through the air, not really sure what hit me. I knew that this was another big step in my healing, a huge step. I realized my true calling was to put together some of these healing pieces using my nursing background and then share that with others.  

Beth: How are your back and spine now?  

Maria: I had an MRI done 6 years ago. The radiologist actually called me and asked me how well I move. And I said I move very well and I actually do handstands and I’m a cross fitter. And he said that’s amazing because your spine looks like the spine of a very old woman. I said, “Really?” Then he said, “Yes, I don’t see any damage to your spinal cord. It looks good but I’m curious.” I told him that I move very well and of course very carefully. 

So that’s my story. It’s the first time I’ve told the whole thing in a long time.

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Friday, October 21, 2016

Stem Cells in Ophthalmology Update 23 Maurie Hills’ Story More Details About The Stargardt’s Clinical Trial Patient


Back in early August, I wrote about Maurie Hill, a Stargardt’s disease patient who is undergoing stem cell treatment as part of the Advanced Cell Technology clinical trial in which an injection of retinal pigment epithelial (RPE) cells derived from human embryonic stem cells, was injected into her retina in an attempt to stop the progression of her disease and, hopefully, restore some vision that she has lost.

That first posting, A Stargardt’s Clinical Trial Patient’s Story – In Her Own Words, told Maurie’s story, taken from the blog she is writing about her experiences in this clinical trial.

Last week, Ricki Lewis, the author of The Forever Fix: Gene Therapy and the Boy Who Saved It, an excellent book about the gene therapy trials ongoing at Children’s Hospital in Philadelphia to treat Lebers Congenital Amaurosis, wrote more about Maurie Hill and the clinical trial.

Back in early summer, when Maurie first contacted me about the possibility of her taking part in the ACT clinical trial, I introduced her to Ricki. I thought that Ricki might be interested in writing another regenerative medicine book, this time about the use of stem cells. Ricki was interested, and made contact with Maurie, and this story is the result of that introduction.   


Human Embryonic Stem Cells Finally Reach Clinical Trials: Maurie’s Story

By: Ricki Lewis, PhD
Posted: September 27, 2012
DNA Science Blog in PLOS One Blogs

On July 11, Wills Eye Institute ophthalmologist Carl Regillo delicately placed 100,000 cells beneath the retina of 52-year-old Maurie Hill’s left eye. She was rapidly losing her vision due to Stargardt disease, an inherited macular dystrophy similar to the much more common dry age-related macular degeneration (AMD).

Maurie’s disease was far along, the normally lush forests of photoreceptor cells in the central macula area severely depleted, especially the cones that provide color vision. Would the introduced cells nestle among the ragged remnants of her retinal pigment epithelium (RPE) and take over, restoring the strangled energy supply to her remaining photoreceptors? They should, for the cells placed in Maurie’s eye weren’t ordinary cells. They were derived from human embryonic stem cells (hESCs).

I’ve waited 15 years to see human embryonic stem cells, or their “daughter” cells, make their way through clinical trials. And thanks to Maurie’s sharing her story, I’m witnessing translational medicine.

On September 29, 1997, The Scientist published my first stem cell article, Embryonic Stem Cells Debut to Little Media Attention. Alas, the public was still too enamored with Dolly the cloned sheep to pay much attention to cells that could both spawn specialized cell types and “self-renew,” maintaining a perpetual stream of hard-to-derive cells that could be used to both observe embryonic development and replace abnormal adult tissue. Over the years, public interest seemed to surface only on slow news days. And still the media report that the cells can “turn into” every cell type in the body – ignoring the very quality that defines the cells: the capacity for self-renewal, making more of themselves as their daughters specialize.

Partly because deriving hESCs until just a few years ago required destroying early human embryos, research using less objectionable stem cells accelerated. And while so-called “adult” and induced pluripotent stem cells (iPSCs) don’t require embryos and match patients so that the immune system isn’t provoked, embryonic stem cells remain the “gold standard” for scrutinizing a disease’s beginnings as the ball-of-cells early embryo folds into layers, contorts, develops organs, and grows. For example, hESCs recently glimpsed how the drug thalidomide harms embryos. The second use of hESCs is to generate useful specialized cells, such as sensory neurons to restore hearing. It’s this second application – hESCs as a source of implants – that is the focus of clinical trials for Stargardt disease and dry AMD.

Using hESCs could be incredibly economical. Just one can yield many millions of cells, the characteristics of the cells coaxed by the cocktails that researchers choose. And embryos can be returned to the freezer, unharmed. The RPE cells in Maurie’s eye came from an hESC line derived in 2005 by Robert Lanza and colleagues at Worcester, Mass.-based Advanced Cell Technology, one of five cell lines called NED for “no embryo destroyed.”

NED cells come from a protocol similar to pre-implantation genetic diagnosis (PGD), in which one cell of an 8-celled embryo is sampled to screen for genetic disease, and if all is well, the remaining 7-celled embryo is implanted in a uterus. PGD has been around since 1989. The ability to pluck out a cell at this stage without damaging the whole is a characteristic of our branch of the animal kingdom called indeterminate cleavage, for those who recall Zoology 101.

For a time, the first clinical trial to use hESC-derived cells — oligodendrocytes to treat spinal cord injury – was sponsored by Menlo-Park, CA–based Geron Corp. That effort ended in November 2011, due to cost. But eye diseases are perhaps a better first choice, because the retina is naturally shielded from the immune system.

I never expected to befriend one of the first people to be in an hESC clinical trial. But this past June, an email friend, Irv Arons, connected Maurie and me. She and her older sister Cindi would soon be on their way back from the Wills Eye Institute in Philadelphia, where they were being evaluated for the clinical trial to treat Stargardt disease. They’d be at the Albany Amtrak station on their return to Vermont, near my home.

The sisters have become so adept at using their peripheral vision to see around the central abyss in their visual fields that I couldn’t, at first, tell that anything was wrong with them. They were as excited as if they’d just won the lottery.

“Twelve people are participating. When I saw something about the clinical trial a year ago I thought yeah, right. But things just lined up,” Maurie said. She works 12 hours a week blogging for Ai Squared, maker of ZoomText software, and has a young daughter, a husband, and an associate’s degree in electronics and engineering technology.

Cindi agreed. “I was thinking this will never happen. There were too many barriers, too many things had to fall into place.”

The visual loss of Stargardt is slow. “In 3rd grade I‘d read very fast, but by 5th, I knew I should be able to read faster,” Maurie recalled. She struggled, not realizing anything was wrong, and didn’t even have an eye exam until her physical for college. “The doctor saw something and he sent me to an eye specialist who sent me to another eye specialist, but still I had no diagnosis.”
   
Eyechart: This is what Maurie Hill sees with her right eye covered when observing the eye chart from a meter away. (credit: Derek Bove)

At age 30, Maurie needed a physical for work, and again made the rounds of referrals. “I could still see pretty well, but some things bothered me: night driving and the lights coming at me and then disappearing, and being unable to recognize faces. I’d have trouble going from light to dark and vice versa.” By age 35, yet another job required a physical, and she went again to retinal specialists, but by this time she’d lost enough visual function to meet the diagnostic criteria for Stargardt. With every month, she could see less.

Meanwhile, Cindi’s vision was going downhill. “I went to my doctor, and I said ‘my sister has this, do I have it too?’ He ran out to open his textbook to see what it was, and said ‘yes, I think you have it,” Cindi said. She taught special ed for 14 years before she had to leave, no longer able to do the visual tasks required for her job, even with the adaptive technology that had helped for a decade.

The sisters have four other siblings. True to Mendel’s first law for single-gene inheritance, their older brother has Stargardt too, although his case is so mild that until recently he could read normal-sized print, although slowly and with great eyestrain.

In 2009, the siblings heard about successful gene therapy for Leber congenital amaurosisamaurosis  another inherited retinal disease. Could they have gene therapy too?

In May 2009, the family went to the National Eye Institute to confirm Maurie’s 1995 diagnosis, which had been based on clinical findings. But genetic test results indicated that the family didn’t have a mutation in the ABCA4 gene, as 40% of those diagnosed with Stargardt do, or any other mutation. “That was a little disappointing, since we knew the mutation would have to be known to do gene therapy,” recalled Maurie.

But what about stem cell therapy?

Maurie read (by zooming her text and using her peripheral vision) a news release from Advanced Cell Technology announcing that their researchers had derived RPE cells from hESCs. The first two applications would be dry age-related macular degeneration and Stargardt disease. Mice and rats had responded well.

So Maurie called her siblings, and her brother called ACT immediately, but got nowhere. The timing just wasn’t right.

By late 2010, FDA had approved ACTs testing the RPE cells for safety, and clinicaltrials.gov officially announced the upcoming experiments in late April 2011. Four cohorts of three Stargardt patients each would receive escalating doses, starting with 50,000 RPE cells. The AMD trial would proceed in parallel.

Results came very quickly, published online in January 2012’s Lancet. And the news was good. The cells hadn’t harmed the first two patients, a woman in her 70s with AMD and a 51-year-old woman with Stargardt, both treated at the Jules Stein Eye Institute in Los Angeles.

A fear of using embryonic stem cells is that they can give rise to teratomas, which are bizarre tumors festooned with bits of specialized tissue such as teeth and hair. If an ES cell lurked among the RPE cells put into a patient’s eye, a teratoma might sprout. But since this hadn’t happened by three months, and neither woman had inflammation or immune rejection, the therapy passed the first safety hurdle. (A year out, the 9 patients treated so far report more vibrant color vision and improved visual acuity. The first woman treated, for example, could detect only hand-waving before the procedure, but can now read three lines on an eye chart.)

After the sisters heard the two LA patients on NPR January 23, Maurie called the clinical trial director at the nearest participating center, the Wills Eye Institute. When she finally got through, she learned that the center would consider only local patients, so they’d be easier to follow. But a month later, her local eye doctor urged her not to give up.

So Maurie called back, and finally the timing was right. “The research coordinator answered and was flowing with information.” Elated, Maurie sent her medical records right away – she had fortuitously just had a colonoscopy (cancer is grounds for exclusion due to the teratomas), mammogram, Pap smear, cholesterol test, and more.

Dr. Regillo liked Maurie’s test results. She was the ideal clinical trial participant – healthy except for the condition under study, a rarity. When Maurie got the good news, she asked if she could bring Cindi along. Both sisters agreed to foot the Amtrak bills. They told me about the visit when I met them in the Albany train station. Maurie was in; Cindi is still being evaluated.

The big day came in just a month. On July 11, Maurie and Cindi arrived a little before noon, surprised at the video cameras. Every step of the procedure had been meticulously choreographed and practiced, with trial runs to identify the time with the lightest traffic on a midsummer Wednesday between New Jersey, where the precious cells were on ice, and Philadelphia.

The cells arrived in a red cooler, the clock ticking down the 3 hours they could survive. Testing for viability and contamination took 30 minutes, and then the procedure itself took just 3 minutes.

Maurie hadn’t expected to be awake and aware as the descendants of human embryonic stem cells flooded her eye, although she’d chosen local anesthesia. “I actually saw the needle come in the inside of my eye! Dr. Rigello said, ‘Can you see that?” I said I clearly saw the needle coming in from the left, and he said, ‘Yup!’ I could see the fluid coming out and forming a little puddle. It was the coolest thing. And everyone was so excited that I saw it!”

Maurie Hill, shortly after having 100,000 retinal pigment epithelium (RPE) cells derived from human embryonic stem cells (hESCs) placed in her left eye

And so Maurie Hill joins the brave and selfless individuals who have volunteered to participate in clinical trials, who make new treatments possible for many. But Maurie’s going one huge step farther: she’s blogging about her progress.

To be continued …


The Author

Ricki Lewis is a science writer with a PhD in genetics. The author of several textbooks and thousands of articles in scientific, medical, and consumer publications, Ricki's first narrative nonfiction book, "The Forever Fix: Gene Therapy and the Boy Who Saved It," was published by St. Martin's Press in March 2012. In addition to writing, Ricki provides genetic counseling for parents-to-be at CareNet Medical Group in Schenectady, NY and teaches "Genethics" an online course for master's degree students at the Alden March Bioethics Institute of Albany Medical Center.





Saturday, August 13, 2016

Coming to Yoga Later in Life A Personal Story


by Andy
Beach Road Adventure by Melina Meza
In 2006, life handed me a double whammy. I was diagnosed with both emphysema and Crohn’s disease. I had probably been living with these two conditions for years, but because I had grieved so long and hard after the loss of my husband to cancer in 1998, I had not paid attention to the slow but relentless worsening of my symptoms.

Also that year, two different friends told me, during two separate lunch conversations, “You need yoga!” Me? Yoga? I hadn’t even gone for a walk in nearly eight years. But the universe works in mysterious ways, and as luck would have it, in late 2007, I moved into a condominium that had a fitness center, Anytime Fitness, next door to my building. My 61-year-old body joined the gym, and I began working with a trainer twice a week. Over about six weeks, I was able to gradually increase my hold time in a forearm plank from five seconds to 20 seconds. (This was no picnic, believe me. After 20 seconds, I was completely out of breath and had to rest.)

Soon after I started strength training, Anytime Fitness started offering yoga classes. It was as though the advice of my friends had dropped from heaven into my lap! From the moment I found the mat, I felt like a duck in water. What amazed me was that the negative stories I had been telling myself about my physical abilities seemed irrelevant when it came to yoga. I’ve never been particularly athletic; I’ve never been good at sports. Back then, I spent most of my day at my desk or in meetings, and in the evening, I turned into a couch potato. But yoga changed all that.

The teacher, a gifted young yogi named Maren Marks, had the patience of a saint and the instincts of a master teacher. I studied with her for almost three years, even when I was taking classes from other teachers. On the mat, the optimist in me overcame the inner critic. I still don’t fully know why, but here is what I believe. Even though Hatha yoga is an embodied practice, it is facilitated by the breath and mind in concert. I had happened on an open-hearted discipline that required me to pay attention to my breathing, and that attention turned out to be critical to living well with emphysema. At the same time, yoga was teaching me to fully focus my mind on the activity at hand—I had no choice if I didn’t want to topple over!—and that helped me emerge from a seven-year funk following the death of my husband.

As I just suggested, when I started yoga in early 2008, I could not balance on one foot, so classic poses like Vrkasana (Tree Pose) and Warrior III were unavailable to me, and even front-facing, two-legged poses like Warrior I and crescent lunge—a high lunge with arms overhead or in namaste—had me swaying from side to side while my toes kept grasping for the mat. Adding a twist to a crescent lunge was unthinkable for me.

In every class I took, I immediately fell out of every balance pose I tried. And me with significant osteoporosis! So, one of the first things I learned as an older student was that I had to take care of myself, and that meant increasing my body awareness. After years of self-avoidance, I finally found a reason to reconnect with my body—to get to know it in age, and to use that knowledge to help keep me safe and confident. If I have learned anything at all from starting yoga at an older age, it is that.

Just as I learned that I could improve from five to 20 seconds in forearm plank, I began to realize that yoga was something I could get better at through practice. This was a profound realization for me, and offered a deep motivation to stay with my practice, to be persistent and patient, and to let greater comfort and proficiency come naturally over time. I discovered that in yoga, it always does. Over time, not only can you literally see and feel the positive changes in your body, you also find yourself feeling better in general—enjoying enhanced well-being. 

What I learned in class offered the healthy foundation I needed, but my deepest learning came in private, at home, where I could practice at my own pace. I was always years older than the next oldest person in my classes, and with my breathing and balance issues, I was often not able to keep up with my teacher. But she made me feel so welcome and supported that I didn’t care. I simply thought, “Oh, goodie! Here’s something I can practice at home.” For me, that was a completely new approach to learning. Truly, yoga had allowed me to let go of my ego (my younger self?) in order to open myself to deeper self-knowledge.

If you come to yoga in your 50s, 60s, or 70s, you’ll carry the richness of your life history with you to the mat. There, to my surprise, I learned that my history didn’t limit me at all, nor did my age, nor did my myriad diseases and conditions. But to keep myself safe as an older beginner, I did need to pay closer attention to the postural alignment of my body and the rhythms of my breath, both in movement and stillness, than my younger, softer-boned classmates.

If you are teaching older beginners, know that as we age, our body’s balance systems don’t work quite as well, and people new to yoga need help to safely reclaim those skills. For example, I have learned that for older beginners, one-legged Utkatasana (Chair pose) is an easier one-footed balance than Vrkasana (Tree pose). Know that your older students will have more complicated and diverse physical histories than your younger ones—as we age, our bodies become more unique and less like each other’s. But know, too, that older students are wise and have learned to make thoughtful decisions about themselves. Practice sensitive watchfulness and offer individual guidance, but respect the fact that older students know their bodies better than you.

It’s now been six years since I found yoga, and guess what? I can now enjoy Vrkasana any darn time I please! And Warrior III! And for dessert, I think I’ll have a crescent lunge with a gentle twist. Yoga is for all of us. May your yoga experiences be as fulfilling and sustaining as mine, no matter your age when you start.

Andrea (Andy) Gilats, Ph.D., R.Y.T., is an educator, writer, and certified yoga instructor. She specializes in working with people seeking a body-sensitive, age-appropriate approach to practice. She calls her approach Third Age Yoga  (www.thirdageyoga.net) as a welcome mat to all of us in the Third Age, a sustained era of life beyond midlife but before true old age, in which active engagement and personal fulfillment take center stage. As a writer, Andy has published a variety of articles on wellness and positive aging, and she is the author of Life Slices, a lushly illustrated card deck that invites us to contemplate eight timeless life themes and 52 pathways toward creating a life of purpose and meaning.

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