186 • Part III: YOGa FOr EDUCatING FOr SELF-rEGULatION aND ENGaGEMENt CHaPtEr 9: YOGa aS EMBODIED SELF-rEGULatION aND ENGaGEMENt • 187
I CaN: aN EMBODIED, EMPOWErED HOME
The embodied self-regulation that occurs in yoga can be described in two words: I can.
These words are filled with possibility and empowerment. I’ll start with an example.
Today, I co-taught a yoga class for Yogis in Service, Inc. (an all-ages, community-based
yoga program; http://www.yogisinservice.org)..) We warmed up with sun salutations and a lunge
sequence and moved into some partner work to lead up to a handstand practice. I noticed
how many times participants were saying, “I can’t” before we tried an exercise or a pose.
Noticing this, I stopped the class and asked the group to participate in an activity. Upon
request, the participants paired up. One of the individuals in the pair placed the hands out
with palms facing up (i.e., Yogi A). The other person (i.e., Yogi B) placed the hands, palms
facing down, on top Yogi A’s hands. Yogi A, with palms facing up, was asked to look into
the eyes of Yogi B and repeatedly say “I can’t” while resisting Yogi B’s efforts to push his or
her hands down. Because of the way our arm muscles work, Yogi B’s pressing down had
an advantage; Yogi A did not have a chance. With effort and resistance being paired with
“I can’t,” Yogis B’s work was fast and easy. Next, I asked the all of the Yogi As, with palms
up, to do that same thing, except this time, I asked them to look into their partner’s eyes
and say, “I can” and resist. The difference was remarkable. All of the class members were
laughing, shocked by the difference between embodying, “I can’t” and “I can.”
Philosophers suggest it goes even deeper than that. In 2014, when I was writing the book,
Mindfulness and Yoga for Self-Regulation: A Primer for Mental Health Professionals ( Cook-Cottone,
2015), I experienced one of those moments that we all hope to have a few times in our lives.
I found a piece of writing, a journal article written by a philosopher, which changed how
I consider things. It is titled, “Anorexia Nervosa and the Body Uncanny: A Phenomenological
Approach” (Svenaeus, 2013). I found the term uncanny in the title compelling and curious. To
explain the term, we must first understand its relationship to the body. In his article, Svenaeus
(2013) described our typical relationship with our bodies. He described how most of us live
every day with our bodies, in our bodies, without a conscious sense of our bodies (Svenaeus,
2013). Although we can always turn toward our bodies with awareness (e.g., thinking about
your breath rather than just breathing) as we go through the day, most of us do not do this
(Svenaeus, 2013). Svenaeus (2013) suggests that the body lives in a preconscious field of
attention in which it engages in many autonomic (e.g., heartbeat, breathing, digestion) and
voluntary (e.g., reaching for someone’s hand, opening a door) functions of which we have no
awareness. We simply do these things. This is what it is like to be embodied.
The body is my place in the world—the place where I am that moves with me—which is
also the zero-point that makes space and the place of thing that I encounter possible. The
body, as a rule, does not show itself to us in our experiences; it withdraws and so opens
up a focus in which it is possible for things in the world to show up to us in different
meaningful ways.
Svenaeus (2013, p. 83)The term uncanny comes from the root word can, a word that is first understood via its
meaning as a verb. To say that you can is to both know how to do something and to be able
to do it. It portends both knowledge and ability. The second definition of the word can is
its function as a noun. A can is a container or vessel. If you take the dual meaning, or these
meanings together, to say “I can” references an embodied sense of empowerment.