When Yoga Cuts Deep and a Gremlin Pops Out
We think we practice yoga for the physical benefits, and to feel that flush of relaxation that comes during that delicious rest at the end of class. But every now and then our practice unearths unpleasant emotions, such as frustration, anger, sadness, or fear. When this happens it can feel like a sinister gremlin has been awakened within us. We come to the practice for peace and ease, and instead we find ourselves wrestling with our demons. As feelings intensify we wonder if the sanity we’ve managed to cobble together to this point is vulnerable to complete and total collapse. We gulp (because we don’t want to completely lose it in class), push the gremlin back down, and live to suffer another day.
It’s hard being human. Every moment of every day has our ‘emotional body’ responding to momentary shifts in reality and perspective. We can tolerate those sensations most of the time, but certain events and thoughts trigger stronger feelings and before we know it we are lashing out in anger, or breaking down in a puddle of tears.
I have spent many-a-moment resolving to maintain the equanimity I cultivate in my yoga practice, only to disappoint myself time and time again IRL. Parenting and relationships are absolutely the best test of emotional intelligence and maturity. Though my practice has served me in my ability to self-regulate, apologize, and experience humility without crumbling in shame I still have plenty of work to do.
Yoga philosophy reminds us that all of our emotions, even the positive ones, such as joyfulness or excitement, are a form of suffering. It is said it’s because we know those moments of pleasure will come to an end. But I think it’s because we ache with the intensity of feeling, even when our feelings are ones we’d like to prolong.
It can come as quite a surprise when emotions from our oldest wounds and hurts creep out of their deep dark spaces and sneak up on us uninvited. There we are in class, luxuriating in a reclined chest opener, and suddenly we find we have tears in our eyes.
‘What is this?’ We ask as the lump swells in our throat.
It can feel like repressed emotions come out of nowhere, but there is a recipe. That dark gremlin of intense feeling was awakened from his peaceful slumber because that physical prodding, stretching and melting along with that deep breathing you just did nudged him loose. Add a touch of attentiveness in an environment that you associate with safety and healing and, well…
Even if you practice yoga mainly for exercise you are still nurturing a conscious alertness to both physical sensation (feeling your body) and your relationship to those sensations (attraction v. aversion) that is amplified by the orientation of a particular point of view. In yoga we practice taking the perspective of a neutral observer. This is a profoundly different approach than one we might take in sports for example, or performative activities such as dance. The witness perspective we cultivate in yoga, a tenet of mindfulness, happens also to promote an ideal environment for emotional release and relief.
You are developing the skill of objective perception, or the ability to step back from your habitual point of view and see an object or experience for what it is. In other words, your emotions may feel strong, but you are less identified with them. With practice you note that they pass as quickly as they emerge, and you become less concerned about their implications. The little gremlin inside senses this environment of equanimity and recognizes an opportunity to finally be felt and heard. Or metaphor aside, you have increased your capacity for attention and self-empathy.
For example, you may suffer from the thought, ‘I am not enough’, and at the same time feel the emotion associated with the thought as a knot in the stomach. The gremlin stirs.
Whereas previously you may have believed the thought and the feeling wholly, and proceeded to ruminate about your unworthiness, a more objective perspective enables you to experience the thought and sensation fully while at the same time recognizing it for what it is: A thought, a feeling, unpleasant but temporary, and in no way the totality of who or what you actually are.
In this environment the little gremlin loses his power. He’s not defeated. This is not a battle. Rather, we give the little guy a hug, thank him for showing us our habituated thought pattern, and invite him to scamper off into the woods to join all of the other gremlins who have finished their work for the day.
We tend to want to avoid negative emotions at all costs. In fact we employ all sorts of measures to keep our feelings at bay, as if our emotions are an inconvenience that needs to be managed so we can get on with the business of living. Our strategies aren’t always the best for us though. Chronic distraction, postponement, acting out, and self medication are poor ways to manage internal duress. Unmanaged stress is a risk factor for most diseases, and a fair predictor as to whether we will succumb to illness. Plus these things tend to be really bad for our relationships.
The cave yogin removes themself from the world to replace the internal noise and intensity of thoughts and emotions with stillness and focus. In the absence of the daily stimulation of life it is taught that the mind (citta) can sustain a singular focus, and with practice can become still enough to reflect the true nature of consciousness. Suffering ceases when the mind is able to rest permanently in a state known as sat-cit-ananda, or truth-consciousness-bliss.
‘Householders’ (those of us who practice yoga but within the context of daily life) engage in a different way. Our practice serves as an experiential and philosophical framework through which we engage with the complexity of our inner experience, including the discomfort of complex emotions. Our training teaches us to trust that the emotions and associated thoughts that trouble us, regardless of their intensity, origin, or content will rise, be felt, and ultimately pass. It is their nature to do so.
When strong emotions surface during practice it’s important to remember that it’s not the practice that caused the emotions. Rather what is frozen within us is thawing. When this happens, so long as it happens in an environment of safety and attentiveness, we heal.
How do our emotions heal us?
Have you ever had a good cry that left you feeling lighter afterwards? Maybe you felt more loving or forgiving towards someone, or thought of a solution to a problem.
When we allow ourselves to feel our emotions fully, and discharge the tension they cause in our bodies, we experience relief. But we also experience insight. In the moments that follow we are clearer and more capable of meeting our challenges with thoughtfulness, truthfulness and courage.
I see the unearthing of latent emotions as an opportunity to have a conversation with an old part of us that got stuck. Of course it’s not appropriate to express our emotions freely anytime and everywhere. But when that gremlin, however viscous or ugly rises, we have a few choices. We can stuff him back down, we can act out, or we can pause, take a breath, and invite him up from his deep dark cavern for a chat.
If you have the time and attention for a conversation with your gremlin, here’s a meditation that might be helpful.
Gremlin Meditation
Take a few smooth, deep breaths. Establish a kind, loving, and curious disposition. It can help to think of a place you love to spend time in, a pet or a person that you adore.
Once you feel calm and centered, call up your inner gremlin (fire-breathing dragon, frightened monkey, crazy old man, clueless past self, vicious mother bear, tantruming inner child etc…). What do they look like? Can you feel what they feel? Visualization is a powerful tool; use your imagination here. Allow your gremlin to take shape.
Step 1. Once you have a strong sense of your gremlin, thank them for showing up. Let them know you’re here to listen.
Step 2. Ask them what they want to show you. What is it they want you to know?
Step 3. Listen, ask questions, affirm. Dialogue with your gremlin for a few minutes. Stay curious and be supportive.
Note. At this stage you may have strong feelings. Take your time with this step. Ask your gremlin, ‘And what else?’. There is probably more your gremlin has to say.
Step 4. Invite your gremlin to see what your life is like now. You made it. You survived. They probably don’t know that.
Step 5. Close the visualization by again thanking your gremlin for showing you whatever it is that was important to them. Let your gremlin know that you’ll be back if they need you. If you wish you can offer a handshake/hug/fist-bump, but don’t be discouraged if they don’t take you up on it. It can take a while to build trust 😉.
Tips: While you listen, track your emotions. This visualization might elicit strong feelings because your gremlin, of course, is just a part of you. If you start to feel overwhelmed go back to your place, pet or person and reestablish your center. You are the grown-up in this conversation — not a steely, strict grown-up, a capable and compassionate one. Resist the urge to argue, problem-solve, soothe or cajole your gremlin. Whatever your gremlin does or tells you is nothing more than something that needs to be expressed. Your job is to simply listen, empathize and affirm. Not to get caught up in your gremlin’s story. Finally, repeat regularly, until your gremlin loses steam, transforms, or becomes an ally.
Bothering with this kind of visualization might sound silly, but I think you’ll be surprised at how effectively your gremlin can tango with your subconscious. Our gremlins (emotions) deserve our time and attention. They offer a glimpse into hidden motivations that are often guarding outdated needs or assumptions. This visualization offers a powerful way transform strong emotions into friends and teachers as opposed to uncomfortable and troubling nuisances.
BTW — ‘gremlin’ is just an archetype. Feel free to read this article again by replacing ‘gremlin’ with an archetype(s) that’s personal to you!
