Feeling Deeply, Acting Wisely

Yoga helps us become more perceptive, even sensitive, to feelings that arise from within, but sensitivity alone isn’t enough. Without the grounding of intention and guidance of attitude, sensitivity can easily spiral into negativity. This reflection explores how we can turn awareness into right action, both on and off the mat.

In Hatha Yoga, the postural form of yoga, we often place our attention on a shifting mosaic of embodiment feelings. This may be sensations arising from visceral experience (interoception) or the recognition of the position and movement of our body through space (proprioception). In more traditional practice, attention is directed towards subtler qualities of experience, like changes in energy and psychophysical processes that sometimes rest below the threshold of consciousness.

With practice, our capacity for attending to embodied experience becomes more precise and fine-grained. We begin to perceive details that may have been previously blurry, like how effort redistributes as you add another point of foundation to a pose. Research has shown that our capacity to sense the body’s internal state can be enhanced through mindfulness practices such as yoga. However, sensitivity isn’t a virtue in itself. In fact, higher interoceptive awareness has been found to correlate with anxiety (something I wrote about in another post, if you’re interested in reading more on the relationship between emotions and embodiment in yoga). Or if you’re interested in a neurocognitive theory of how this is happening, read here.

The relationship between sensitivity and the evolution of practice resonates with me because, as a yoga facilitator, I see that some people are very engaged with the feelings that arise from within, while others aren’t drawn to that kind of inward exploration. For many, yoga can feel boring. Stillness can stir restlessness or agitation, and over time, it may seem pointless to maintain a practice that offers little more than a decent stretch. That’s okay … there are many paths. Perhaps what feels like boredom comes from being less acquainted with the finer sensations, or with how to reach them. I also wonder whether those attracted to yoga tend to be naturally more sensitive. Even when the practices feel uncomfortable, there’s a certain comfort in being able to feel a lot from within.

Whether it’s a cultivated skill or an aptitude (and probably both), I think it’s important that the capacity for inner atunement isn’t seen as an end in itself. As Michael Stone used to kid, “The world doesn’t care about your enlightenment”. So if not for “navel gazing”, what purpose does this heightened attentiveness and sensitivity serve?

I’d like to draw on a helpful model of mindfulness by Shauna Shapiro, which defines practice as three key elements: attention, intention, and attitude. If attention is the sensitivity we cultivate, then intention is how we contextualize those perceptions within a wider frame of experience; it is an act of regulating our inner state physically and mentally, so we can integrate what we feel into the larger ecosystem of our lives.

In the embodied practice of hatha yoga, we regulate ourselves with deliberate, deep, slow breathing. This provides a steady stream of interoceptive information that helps integrate the peaks and troughs of experience, so our attention doesn’t dwell solely on direct proprioceptive sensations from the postures (or external distractions). This regulated breathing also supports the parasympathetic nervous system, helping prevent heightened reactivity to whatever feelings arise. In short, the breath affords us space to be sensitive, but steady. And if we’re in pain, the breath becomes even more of a relevant tool to work with discomfort rather than against it.

Even so, I realized the other day that steadiness, or regulation, is not enough, either. As a thought experiment, what would happen if we approached our practice with a harmful attitude? Our capacity for attention and regulation would then lead to negative outcomes; in fact, it would heighten our ability to be injurious. Having engaged in self-harm in the past, I see that yoga could be a vehicle if practiced this way.

I had a bit of an “ah-hah” moment when I remembered Shapiro’s third element of mindfulness: attitude. It is our internal compass that determines how we meet what arises. Attitude transforms our attention into wise action. In yoga, our attitude can take many forms, including compassion (karuna), non-harming (ahimsa), patience, curiosity, and gratitude. It’s the ethical tone that directs how feeling becomes action.

As Michael Stone wrote in 21st Century Yoga:

“Yoga teaches us that as we open to our lives, we open to suffering and pain — not just our own, but the suffering of all beings. Yes, we heal internally; yes, we find more ease in our lives; yes, we are less stressed. But the paradox of practice is that although we feel more free internally, we also become more sensitive to the pain of others. And from there, we begin to take action.”

That’s the heart of it. Sensitivity is not the goal, but it’s a means. Regulation is helpful, but also not enough. Our attitude is what guides us toward our goals. Off the mat, these tools help us work with uncertainty and change, adapt to new circumstances, move toward what matters, and find joy in the simple things.