I love my morning yoga routine.
Dubbed a “sun salutation”, this sequence is quick and to the point. It jets me outta my post bedtime bewilderment, clears the cognitive cobwebs, and braces me for my day. It’s like a cup of caffeine you breathe instead’a brewing. (Though, granted, I guzzle the green tea after, too.) But, more recently, something occurred to me: if there are yoga sequences that can wake you up, aren’t there also ones that can wind you down? As it turns out, there are. Much like there exist teas that can either enliven you or take your consciousness down a click or two, yoga’s the same way. There are P.M. poses meant to loosen you up for downtime just as much as those matcha-esque A.M. ones amp you up enough to send you out the door for a jog in 18 degree weather.
(Just make sure you’re waiting long enough after dinner to do some’a these…)
And how’s that work, exactly?
Well, bedtime yoga’s focal point is your “relaxation response”. The idea’s that we (many of us), kinda reside in the opposite of that state most’ve our days (AKA chronic stress). You’ve probably heard about the “fight of flight” response before – that thing our bodies do when we think a threat’s imminent. (Lions, grizzly bears, fingernail sized house spiders sent from hell that’re obviously here to collect my soul.) While that reaction’s normal for those stimuli (arguably), what’s not is how we tend to turn what’s meant to be a fleeting survival response into a way of living. Repetitive stressors like responsibilities (or that one barista who can’t seem to comprehend how infuriating a lukewarm latte is) add up to leave our stress response toggled on. And, by the day’s end, tranquilly taking a break from reality feels incomprehensible. Fortunately for us, though, we can access that aforementioned “relaxation response” through a few poses. What they do is freeze that fight or flight hyper-arousal state in its tracks. Because, when you’re sat in a calming pose, a domino effect toward repose ensues: first, you slow your breath. And that signals your nerves’ stick shift to switch your gears downward. And that means the button in your brain’s concern center gets powered off. And, as a result, your heart rate slows.
Boom, relaxation.
Don’t believe me? Then ask the smart folk from Harvard about it.
’cause they did a study on the power of insomnia battling asanas:
esearchers in this study provided their subjects with basic yoga training, then asked them to maintain a daily yoga practice for eight weeks. The study participants kept sleep diaries for two weeks before the yoga regimen began, and for the duration of the eight-week study period. In the sleep diaries, they kept a record the amount of time spent asleep, number of times they awakened during the night, and the duration of time spent sleeping between periods of waking, in addition to other details about nightly sleep amounts and sleep quality. Twenty people completed the eight-week evaluation, and researchers analyzed the information in their sleep diaries to evaluate the influence of yoga on the disrupted sleep of chronic insomnia. They found improvements to several aspects of sleep, including: sleep efficiency, total sleep time, total wake time, sleep onset latency (the amount of time it takes to fall asleep), and wake time after sleep onset
Gee, and all I wanted was to just get a good night’s rest. I get all’a that too?
Reason enough to give it a try, am I right?
Thus, I set out this morning to find a sequence for tonight that’s as effective as a hot mug full’a kava with honey.
(Since I’m outta kava.)
And I found the following graceful, respiratory lullabies:
This one doesn’t give you pointers, but it’s pretty self explanatory:
But if you hate evening reading ’cause your brain’s fried from work, that’s fine too.
Here’s a video of someone telling you what to do:
Indeed, it’s been my experience that those ones where your hips are flexed are particularly helpful in recruiting docility mode. This makes me psyched to try out the others, as well, in hopes that they’re half as good. So much so that you can bet your bottom (which, if you’re like me, won’t see a seat all day because you work on your feet) that I’ll be doing at least one of these things this evening after I get off work. Only problem? I’m so excited to try ’em, that I might have trouble reaching the tranquil state so easily.
Anyway, best of luck finding your full body chamomile in motion, my friends.