The Subtle Science of Alignment in Yoga

(Photo: Andrew Clark) Yoga Journal’s archives series is a curated collection of articles originally published in past issues beginning in 1975. This article about alignment in yoga poses first appeared in the September-October 2000 issue of Yoga Journal. For the yoga teacher, the concept of alignment can prove hard to grasp, and even harder to teach. While we usually define the subtle state of balance we strive for in our practice in terms of the physical body, its implications extend to the deeper nature of mind and consciousness, revealing new possibilities of movement and dimensions of being. Throughout my 25 years of teaching the Iyengar method of yoga—a tradition often described as “the yoga of alignment”—I’ve faced an ongoing question. How can I present the principles of alignment in a way that is simple and clear, yet at the same time reflective of the transformative power of yoga? Looking at the issue from the most basic, anatomical perspective, alignment is all about good posture and sound body mechanics. Properly lining up the bones and joints helps prevent injury and enhance movement, and therefore contributes to our physical well-being. Yet even at this physical level, we are confronted with different theories of alignment. Should the pelvis be more tilted forward or tucked? Should the weight of the body pass through the center of the ankle joint or the front? Ultimately, our challenge as teachers is to convey our ideas about alignment in a way that leads students to discover what it means for themselves. While alignment remains one of the more elusive concepts in yoga, I’ve found several approaches that can help students understand it. The first, suggested by B.K.S. Iyengar, involves paying attention to the body’s median plane. “If you take your finger and divide it down the middle, you get the median plane,” he explained in a 1982 Yoga Journal interview. In class recently, a young man told me he felt an achy stiffness along the right side of his neck after practicing Sarvangasana (Shoulderstand). I suspected the reason for his discomfort, but I wanted him to observe it for himself. When I asked him to check the median line of his body, he discovered that his rib cage, pelvis, and legs were shifted to the right, which put pressure on the right side of his neck. Having him check in with the median plane helped him see for himself what corrections needed to be made. But attention to the median plane is just the beginning. For me, teaching alignment also means teaching awareness of how a pose feels. Once this student had visually observed the imbalance of his pose, I felt he was ready to go one step further. I asked him to bring his awareness to the skin around his seventh cervical vertebra (the knobby bone at the base of the neck). Was the weight squarely centered here or more to the right? If he brought his awareness to how his back rib cage rested against his hands, was one side lifting and the other side dropping? Could he lift both sides of his rib cage evenly? Cases like these have taught me that alignment is not something we can impose on the body externally but something we sense from within. Eventually, the goal is to establish a balance between the two. For practitioners to engage in this internal dialogue, they need to actually be in the pose rather than just “do” the pose. In Sirsasana (Headstand), for example, I often see students holding themselves up by the strength of their arms and the work of their shoulders. While they are technically doing the pose, the extra muscular effort pushes the spine out of alignment; the outer body overwhelms the inner body. I encourage them to relax the effort of their arms and bring their awareness to the core of the body. I suggest they let the spine find its own place of balance, and observe how this changes their pose. When they allow the spine to subtly readjust its position, their poses look lighter and almost effortless. Initially, students often comment that they feel unstable—that they’re likely to fall out of the pose in any direction. This is where I give encouragement and support. I remind my students that sometimes we need to give up our sense of security to find the true place of balance within. Alignment of the outer or structural body is not an end in itself. It is only a provisional or approximate alignment. The quest for alignment is like tuning into an elusive shortwave radio station. First, you come into the general vicinity of the station, where you hear the sound through static and interference. As you gradually fine-tune the station, the sound becomes more pure and clear. In the practice of yoga, alignment is attunement to the core of your being—something that only the individual can achieve for him or her self. Of course, there are ways in which a teacher facilitates that fine-tuning, especially through specific suggestions. If I see a student with one hip higher than the other in Uttanasana (Standing Forward Bend), I don’t correct her outright by telling her to lift the left hip. I leave her to discover the imbalance herself. “Lift the groins into the body evenly,” I might suggest, or, “Lift the outer arches evenly,” depending upon the source of the problem. I appeal to her awareness of the median plane. Then I watch to see if she makes the appropriate adjustment. Alignment creates space, and out of that space comes movement. Thus, as the student’s pelvis comes into alignment, I observe a spontaneous release in her hip joints. With this freedom and openness, the weight of her body shifts forward over the ankles, her pelvis releases forward, her lumbar spine lengthens, the skin of her back rib cage looks softer, even her breathing seems easier. With proper alignment comes lightness, ease, and extension. In teaching beginners, I’ve found that drawing attention to the relationship between pelvis and thighs is of primary importance. Pelvic alignment gives the student access to the inner body and begins the process of integration. In Tadasana (Mountain Pose), for example, I often ask practitioners to balance the weight of the pelvis evenly between the pubic bone and the tailbone, so that the front and back of the body give equal support. If a student’s pelvis is tilted too far forward or too tucked in Tadasana, he or she will not feel a connection between the inner thighs and lower abdomen. Only when the pelvis is in a neutral position can the student release and lengthen through the inner groins, and make contact with the deeper muscles of the abdomen, especially the psoas. Props can also help students establish basic structural alignment in a pose, when they can’t achieve it on their own. I use props that support and stabilize the outer body without restricting the freedom of movement of the inner body. This increases a student’s awareness and allows him to experience the physiological benefits of the pose. Similarly, with hands-on adjustments, I do not exert force. I use my hands to give support and convey a sense of direction, in a way that allows my students to move deeper into a pose by themselves. Alignment happens by stages and degrees. As a teacher, I need to recognize when a student has reached one level of opening and is ready for the next. If someone has very tight shoulders in Adho Mukha Svanasana (Downward-Facing Dog), I know he is not ready for Sirsasana. If I teach Padmasana (Lotus Pose) to students with very tight hip joints, I know I am putting them at risk for serious knee injuries. If a student is fatigued or in the middle of her menstrual period, I do not recommend vigorous backbends. I choose poses that are anatomically and physiologically appropriate, and sequence those poses in a way that engenders an awareness of how each affects the quality of energy and state of mind. My concern for alignment is reflected in every aspect of my teaching: how I define my role as a teacher, use my props, approach hands-on adjustments, even sequence poses for a class. My goal is to deepen my own understanding and awareness of the poses, and to convey that experience to my students. In the long run, I want them to depend not on my direction to find out what’s right, but on their own sense of alignment, developed through consistent practice and an awareness of the body’s own wisdom.