There’s a certain honesty in a backbend. You can’t fake your way into Urdhva Dhanurasana. You can’t bluff your spine open. You can’t charm your quadriceps into lengthening or convince your shoulders to unstick with good intentions alone.
Backbends ask for more than flexibility—they ask for a kind of presence. A willingness to show up fully, even when the pose feels daunting, distant, or downright impossible.
This is where Yoga Sutra I.20 steps in—not with answers, but with qualities. A roadmap for the long path of practice, especially the moments when you feel stuck, overwhelmed, or convinced your body just “doesn’t do that.”
The Sutra says:
śraddhā vīrya smṛti samādhi prajñā pūrvaka itareṣām
"For others [who are not born with exceptional abilities], progress comes through faith, vigor, memory, absorption, and discernment."
Let’s unpack that, especially through the lens of backbending—a category of poses that stirs up fear, resistance, exhilaration, and deep transformation.
Faith (śraddhā): Trusting What You Can’t Yet See
Faith doesn’t mean blind belief. In practice, faith is the inner sense that there’s something on the other side of effort—that change is possible, even if you can't touch your hands to the floor just yet. In backbends, faith is what lets you try, even when your rational mind says, “No way.”
When you set up with blocks under your hands for Urdhva Dhanurasana and wonder if your arms will ever straighten, it’s faith that keeps you coming back next week. It’s the quiet understanding that progress isn’t linear, but it is real.
And maybe more than anything, faith is the voice that says: “I don’t need to be perfect today. I just need to practice.”
Vigor (vīrya): The Spark That Moves You Forward
Backbends require vigor—but not aggression. Not the kind of intensity that comes from ego or frustration. Vigor in yoga is sustained, intelligent effort. It’s rolling out your mat even when you're tired. It's propping your back ribs on a bolster and lifting your sternum again and again, learning what it really means to open your chest without collapsing your lower back.
This kind of effort doesn’t leave you burned out. It builds something inside you—a steadiness, a lightness, a fire.
Vigor is what turns hope into action.
Memory (smṛti): The Wisdom of Experience
In yoga, memory isn’t just recollection—it’s integration. It’s the kind of memory that lives in your body. When you remember how a teacher adjusted your pelvis in Setu Bandha Sarvangasana, or when you remember the lift of the breastbone in a supported Bhujangasana—those memories become resources.
Backbends ask us to remember what helps us feel safe, supported, and aligned. And they also challenge our mental memory: the stories we tell ourselves.
"I’m not a backbender."
"My spine is too stiff."
"I’ll never get there."
Those mental grooves can run deep. Memory, in this sutra, is also about replacing unhelpful narratives with lived experience. Every time you work with props, adjust your setup, or feel a glimmer of space in the thoracic spine—that’s new memory. New possibility.
Absorption (samādhi): When Practice Becomes Presence
There’s a moment in a backbend—when your breathing steadies, your body lifts, and you feel simultaneously strong and open—where you’re no longer “doing” the pose. You’re in it. Held by it.
This is absorption.
We don’t get there by force. We get there by refining our attention, over time, until the edges between effort and ease begin to blur.
You may not experience this every day. That’s not the point. Absorption isn’t a goal to chase—it’s a byproduct of deep engagement. It’s what happens when you stop obsessing over the final shape and start inhabiting the process.
Discernment (prajñā): Knowing the Difference
Discernment is knowing when to push and when to pause. It’s knowing the difference between the fear that protects and the fear that limits. It’s the most advanced part of practice—not because it’s fancy, but because it requires honesty.
In backbends, discernment might tell you that a blanket under your sacrum makes all the difference. Or that today isn’t the day to go further. Or maybe that you’ve been holding back out of habit, and it’s time to test new ground.
Discernment doesn’t mean caution. It means clarity. And clarity lets you evolve—not just in poses, but in the way you relate to challenge itself.
Backbends as a Mirror
We often think of backbends as just physical postures. But really, they’re mirrors—reflecting our patterns, our fears, our hope, and our growth.
They ask:
Do you trust the process? (Faith)
Will you keep going? (Vigor)
What have you learned? (Memory)
Can you stay present? (Absorption)
What do you need today? (Discernment)
In that way, backbends become a practice of self-study—svadhyaya—in motion. They wake us up. They humble us. And eventually, they open something much deeper than the chest.
Bringing It Home
If you’re in the middle of backbending week (or facing any yoga pose that feels out of reach), keep Sutra I.20 close. You don’t need to be naturally bendy or fearless. You just need the willingness to engage with these five qualities—over time, in your own way.
And remember: progress isn’t always visible on the outside. Sometimes the most profound shift is internal—the moment you go from saying “I can’t” to “Let’s see what’s possible.”
Want to explore this in class? Check our current schedule and join us for Backbending Week—where we break down these powerful poses and offer the support (and props!) you need to make them feel a little more accessible.
🧘♀️ And if you’re craving time to go deeper?
Join us for our Fall Retreat—a favorite annual tradition of deep practice, reflection, and connection. Early bird pricing ends June 30.