Yoga, Sleep and Attachment: Part I

By Brooke Hewes, 2-08-08

In the last week I have come across three articles on the topic of sleep deprivation. It is prevalent, they say. Each proceeds to offer yoga as a way to soothe or solve, and recommend creating a bedtime ritual. While most people have a waking ritual snooze button, coffee, shower, breakfast—few, the articles agree, have wind-down routines. And apparently we need both. So as a real-time glimpse at the potential of ritual for coaxing rest, I offer (for better or worse) my own routine.

First, the waking ritual.

Each morning, as I stir from sleep, I ask my husband for the time. “Seven,” is his usual response. Then he pauses. “What’s the count?”

“Eight hours for you,” I say, ignoring his sarcasm. “I got seven.” My calculation considers bathroom breaks, 20 minutes for falling asleep, and the half hour or so I have been lying awake, resisting.

My willingness to get out of bed hinges on the outcome of this calculation. With eight I am satisfied. I roll over, slip off my eye cover, unplug my earplugs and switch off the fan. In the bathroom, I place my mouth guard in its blue, plastic container beside the sink. I feel good. Had I gotten nine, I might feel better, and may even have a little spring to my step. With anything less than seven I am groggy and grumpy. On those days, my eyes squint at the newspaper, my computer buzzes louder than normal, and I chug coffee instead of sip tea. A layer of sleep muddles my mind for most of the day.

My sister is the same way. My mother too. Our husbands joke that Mom raised us in a too-good sleep environment, and they are right. Sure, she did it out of love, but coupled with her own sleep neurosis, the effect precariously balances the line between comedy and absurdity. Bedroom walls were always white; my back always rubbed; warm milk always available. Thanks to Mom, I slept like a baby well past diapers.

For years now, my bedtime ritual has stayed the same: Sleepytime tea, ear plugs, eye cover and fan. Recently, due to a missing molar, I added a mouth guard. Soothing, dependable and taken a bit too seriously at times, my routine brings me closer to slumber as my mind follows my progressive cues. Sleepytime … bedtime is near. Ear plugs … quiet, bedtime is very near. Eve cover … bedtime is upon me. And, finally, fan … sleep.

Or so it’s supposed to go.

When sleep is slow — when the neighborhood dogs or the noise of nagging responsibility clamber a bit too loudly — anxiety can creep in and turn rest into tossing-and-turning semi-consciousness. And we all know the story from here: one night leads to two, which can stretch to three, and voila, the sleep-deprivation circle is swinging. Apparently the night-kit doesn’t penetrate deep enough to deter worrying about work or making mortgage payments.

Indeed, my relationship to sleep has yoga therapy written all over it. First, to deal with the whirling anxiety. The monkeyiness of the monkey mind. Second, to deal with the attachment— on those nights when I don’t have plugs or a fan to mute all sounds beside my own breath, I am more or less up a creek without a paddle. In fact, recently, after one a night of tossing and turning I dragged myself to yoga class. Immediately, my teacher laughed at the emotional weight I lugged through the door. She understood. She’s been tossed around by the sleep drama many times. Like me, she used to count. Seven was her lucky number. Now she recycles the angst into her yoga practice. Naturally, over time, her body has settled on five hours, after which, perky and alert, she practices and teaches yoga for several hours each day. Gone is the production. Gone is the expectation of adequate sleep, which when hovering, is just as crippling as no rest at all.

Following her suggestion, I now practice sleep yoga, the primary asana of which is savasana (corpse pose). When my mind or body or both are restless, I lie face up, outstretch my arms, open my legs so there are about two feet between my knees, and breathe in and out loudly. The sound, like an exaggerated sigh, seems to carry tension out of my body. Beginning with my head, I send breath behind my closed, sinking eyes. Relax, relax, relax, I suggest to myself, followed by release, release, release, and finally, rest, rest, rest. I repeat this sequence — deep breathing, suggestions of calm, visions of cool light permeating my body — for my neck, my back, my stomach, my hips, my legs, my knees, my feet, and my hands. And it helps. I also work on being less attached to the numbers of hours I log each night, and as anxiety creeps into my consciousness, just as when pain or discomfort creeps into my body during an asana, I breathe into.

Still, I get caught, but the less the cycle troubles me, the less it settles. It has nothing to bounce off of, and without resistance, it looses momentum. If sleep doesn’t come, I mediate or read or try (I’m not quite there yet) to enjoy the stillness.

Or watch my new zYoga: The Yoga Sleep Ritual DVD. As it turns out, there is actually sleep yoga out there, replete with its own sleep-yoga guru. Ann Dyer is a yoga teacher in Oakland, California, who hosts as many as 10 “snor-a-thons” a year. Dyer is a senior faculty member and teaching associate of Rodney Yee at The Piedmont Yoga Studio. Her training is rooted in the Iyengar tradition, complemented by ten years studying Nada Brahma, the yoga of sound, with Mukesh Desai. Next week I will post an interview with Dyer where she discusses how sleep got so disordered, what to do about it, and whether or not my own sleep routine (to which I am admittedly attached) is a good idea.

Meanwhile, you can visit her website and download clips from her DVD, which details “a blissful sequence of calming sleep stretches and a closing guided relaxation of spoken word, chant and music.”

Related Resources (and a few of those magazines on my desk):

• Body + Soul Magazine, 2006, “Sleep better tonight. The solution you haven’t tried.” Qigong and Traditional Chinese Medicine.
• The August 2007 edition of Yoga Journal includes “Sweet Slumber” and tips for a restful bedtime routine and rejuvenating waking routine. 
• International Herald Tribune’s coverage of a Ann Dyer workshop: http://www.iht.com/articles/2006/04/11/opinion/edbeam.php
• Sleep Garden: http://www.sleepgarden.com/index.html
• PM Yoga Mediations: Guided Mediations for an Evening of Relazation & Restful Sleep, by Gael Chiarella