Functional Anatomy of Yoga

A Guide for Practitioners and Teachers

David Keil

• Publisher: Lotus Publishing
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781905367887
• Topic: Ciencias biológicas
• Subtopic: Ciencias del deporte y del ejercicio

Functional Anatomy of Yoga is a rare gem. This book enables both the casual reader and the seasoned practitioner to understand and implement the anatomical structure and function of the body in yoga. Written with a conversational tone, the book delivers the complex subject of human anatomy in a way that is both provocative and clear. The underlying theme of the book is integration. David Keil outlines how yoga teachers and practitioners can utilize a deeper understanding of their anatomy as they approach the larger scheme of yoga. How do the supposed "parts and pieces" of the body synchronize to support integrated movement? Finally, how do the various yoga postures interrelate from the perspective of functional anatomy? Not only is David Keil an authority on the subject of anatomy, but he also has the wisdom and first-hand experience of a skilled yoga teacher and practitioner. He has been presenting the subject of anatomy in a way that is interesting, meaningful, and applicable to teachers and students alike since 2000. Beautifully illustrated throughout with colour images and photographs to clearly explain the concepts and asanas, Functional Anatomy of Yoga will assist you in reaching new heights in your yoga practice using the "laboratory" of the body and the tools of yoga asana.David brought his unique style and ability to make anatomical concepts simple, to the yoga world in 2008, with the creation of the YogAnatomy DVD series.

Converging Histories

From the moment of our birth, our bodies are affected by the lives we live. There is a convergence of information and energy that comes together inside of us. Circumstances, decisions, accidents, and intentions all influence who we are. They form us as certainly as we were physically formed in our mother’s womb. It is impossible to separate a person from their life experiences.

I call these life experiences or influences “Converging Histories.” These histories comprise a wide array of informational energies that are absorbed by our system. Every event in our life, from watching a movie to riding a bicycle or practicing yoga, has an influence on our being. All of these events have a certain energetic, physical, and emotional quality that impact and become part of our physical body.

Our converging histories make us exactly who we are in this moment. Some of these histories happened to us; we had no conscious control over them. Some of them we chose; we consciously added them to our life experiences. Every moment that we live, we choose experiences, activities, and relationships that become part of our own sea of converging histories. They become part of us.

The first and most basic of these histories is common to us all. It is the history of human evolution. What has human evolution done to our bodies? Imagine for a moment that it is billions of years ago and we are quadrupeds. Our center of gravity as four-legged creatures is in a different place. Our feet and hands are also different. Thus when we evolve to bipedalism, our bodies have to change. As two-legged creatures, the relationship of muscle to bone must shift.

As two-legged creatures, walking is our main mode of transportation. Therefore, we have developed strong lower bodies designed to propel us forward. Along with this development, our upper half has evolved as well. We are quite good at interacting with things in front of us. We grab, pull, and manipulate the tangible world as perceived by our eyes, nose, and mouth. Due to the incredible mobility of our hands, we’re better able to protect our front and our more vulnerable underside.

Our fantastic “new” appendages have made using tools and playing the piano possible. And our hands have helped further the development of our brain. Yes, our ability to pick things up, manipulate objects, and create new things with our hands has fed our brain massive amounts of information, which has in turn led to the human consciousness and intelligence we now know.1 Our upper limbs are also useful in their coordination with the lower half. We use our arms to help move the body while running and to maintain balance in difficult situations. (Can anyone say Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana?)

Our genetic history is another piece of our converging histories. From the vast pool of possibilities, we have been born to two parents, each with their own genetic make-up. Out of this genetic mixing pot come our eye color, foot size, and shape of the arches in the feet (or lack thereof). Our height and weight predispositions, the length of our torso relative to our arms, and so on, also come out of the mix. On a physiological level, our parental genetic history predisposes us to certain diseases or illnesses. The implications of genetic history are far-reaching.

Somewhat related to genetics is the history I refer to as “Learned Parental Behavior.” This is a scary one for some of us. It can be distressing to wake up one morning and realize that we are turning into our parents, which we swore we would never do. It’s hard to escape the powerful imprints left by our parents during the formative years.

On a physical level, we learn how to walk by watching and mirroring the way our parents walk. We talk, make expressions, and have similar body language as our parents. This is only natural. Our parents are the first place we saw any of these things happening.

In addition, we adopt ways of thinking, ways of being, and patterns of thought from the input and influence of our parents. Even our mental attitudes derive in part from our learned parental history. The implications are deep. Perhaps this is one way to explain why millions of people are in therapy trying to eradicate the “negative” influence of their parents. In no way should we pass judgment on Mom and Dad. They did the best they could. It is our work to recognize the traits and behaviors that stem from our learned parental history and then determine which to maintain and which to discard.

The fourth and fifth converging histories I’ve identified are physical ones. Our “Activities History” comprises all the physical activities we have learned over the years. Perhaps we played sports such as baseball, football, or soccer. Or maybe we spent time dancing, horseback riding, or practicing martial arts. All of these activities create patterns of movement in our bodies and help forge relationships between the brain, the senses, and our motor skills. The degree of refinement we develop in our activities and how long we participate in them helps to determine the strength of the patterns developed.

I was exposed to yoga very early in life by my pre-school teacher, Mrs. Elphenbein. We did yoga a few times a week on our little rugs. I don’t fully know the degree to which this impacted my body or mind. But I have to believe these formative experiences played a role in my later desire to study Tai Chi Chuan and yoga.

I also did judo for a short time and played baseball for a number of years. I played catcher, which definitely left a physical imprint on me. I had to squat for long periods of time, which lengthened or built certain muscles in my lower body and likely impacted my posture. Some, like me, have done many activities in their lives while others have participated in just a few. Either way, they all have an influence on how our body develops and the patterns that we acquire.

We also need to consider our “Injury History.” Sometimes our injuries are the result of our activities and sports. Sometimes they are the result of accidents, such as falling out of a tree and breaking an arm, stepping off a curb and twisting an ankle, or even getting hit by a car. No matter the cause, all injuries have an influence on our patterns, and we might not be aware of what these are. Perhaps the position of our sacrum or pelvis is changed in a fall. Or maybe the healing of a broken bone causes one leg to become slightly longer. We must become aware of the far-reaching effects of our injury history as we come to know and understand our body.

When I was nine years old I broke my femur (thigh bone). I was playing soccer at the time. I kicked a soccer ball at the exact same moment that my neighbor (a boy at least twice my size) kicked the ball in the opposite direction. The impact of our simultaneous kicks completely broke my femur. Is it any wonder that this leg is a bit twisted, a bit longer, and definitely harder to get behind my head? Even the food we ate as children or the amount of beer we drank in college can influence our bodies and what they are capable of. Thus we also have a “Nutritional History” that influences who we are right now.

Finally we have what is perhaps a larger and more profound history that can impact who we are, what injuries we have had, and how our body moves. It influences the very essence of our being. I call this our “Spiritual History.” Within this history are some very large questions about who we are, what we believe, and how we live. Our spiritual beliefs not only inform our inner well-being, but can impact our physical body as well.

Since we are talking about yoga, we should also consider whether there is an influence from past lives. What about personal karma or samskaras and their effect on our physical body? Is it possible we did yoga in a past life? If so, how is it influencing our practice of asana today?

There is just one more history worth mentioning: our “Mental/Emotional History.” Our emotional history plays a part in shaping how we view the world and ourselves. These influences can come from our parents, embarrassing or proud moments, and even our injuries. As a teacher, I see this in students all the time. By watching the way they approach their practice or deal with their aches and pains, I can tell a lot about their history. An injury that happened years ago can keep a student from even trying a given posture.

For example, I met a student who had an injury to his hip joint about 15 years before I met him. Pins were placed inside temporarily to keep the cartilage against the end of the bone so that it could heal. From that point on, he had assumed there was some boney deformation that prevented him from adducting his hip joint or bringing his femur to his chest.

His approach to practice was one of caution (a good thing). By the time I met him he had basically given up on a regular practice because it was causing more trouble than good, and most teachers were baffled by the condition of his hip. I could see how strong the beliefs were, the connection to the old injury, and the assumptions that were turned into fact. A number of postures were just not going to happen with all of these beliefs and stories in place.

To be honest, I didn’t know what the truth was, but neither did the student. With three days of practice and a lot of trust, we got his femur to his chest and his hip joint did adduct. Slowly but surely, the beliefs and emotions stored within the body were being released—often showing up in the form of hopeful and joyful tears; disbelief and recognition of stories that were wrong and as stuck as the hip itself were dissolving.

It doesn’t matter how you divide or categorize the “histories”; I could have done it differently. What is important is that you see how each one of them ultimately ties together to create our state of being in any given moment.

When we look at a student, we are seeing the product of these converging histories. Beginning to observe what shows up (inside and out) in the moment is the best way to see someone. Learning to see beyond the body is part of learning to teach yoga. As we become able to see beyond the body, we become better able to see our students as they are in the moment. But we need to keep in mind that sometimes (perhaps in a large class situation) individuality is lost and everyone is given the same instruction for the same pose, despite their individual differences.

So, how do we treat each student as an individual? Each pose has its basic principles and guidelines. For instance, everyone should rotate their thigh outward or inward and engage this or that in a given pose, right? How do we layer these fundamentals with our consideration of who a particular student is right now, in this moment? And how can we move our students from where they are now to where we think they should be in a way that suits them? How many of these histories are you able to see when you watch your students practice? Should students do (or not do) certain postures on the basis of their personal histories? How do these histories fit into a student’s development in the practice of asana as well as the larger picture of yoga? These are just a few things to consider. Let’s leave it at this: It is enough that you begin to look for these pieces of the puzzle in your students. It is enough that you try to see beyond the body.

It Is All One

Now that you have a taste for how hard it really is to see the whole person, perhaps you can sense the difficulty in teaching anatomy in a way that emphasizes how well-integrated the body actually is. As it is easy to lapse into our old mindset of seeing the body without taking into account the person alongside their life experiences, it is quite natural to disregard the interconnection of all of our parts. We tend to think of our sore shoulder...