In a clinical yoga practice, physiology meets philosophy

To locate the Samarya Center, you cross the street at the Langston Hughes complex on Yesler Way in Seattle, resist the lively conversation outside the Kemaw Grocery, then stop at a two-story building before the Home of Great Bar-B-Q. Here, doors open into a tranquil world of healing that, ironically, was forged by rebellious punk energy. Samarya dispenses an unconventional form of healing - a marriage of traditional yoga practice and neuro-physiology - formally know as Integrated Movement Therapy. This permutation of yoga evolved from service to those in need: mental health and hospice patients, kids with autism or psychoses, adults who face multiple sclerosis, AIDS or other health challenges. Samarya's "Life After Loss" class helps participants navigate bereavement or trauma; other classes serve local residents or homeless people. Some sessions offered are free; the rest cost just $8 per class.

This Saturday, Dec. 1, at their annual holiday party and fundraiser, the center is seeking sponsorship for yet another branch of outreach. Their aim is to raise $25,000 to treat local veterans of the Iraq War, specifically men and women rendered quadriplegic or paraplegic. It will be the second new project Samarya has launched in six months, following September's introduction of "Yoga for Chronic Pain."

Samarya also offers "regular" Ashtanga yoga. But the IMT classes, says co-founder Molly Kenny, are developed "out of special areas of interest or areas where we see special needs." The class for chronic pain is in part a response to our region's demanding pace, which causes more and more people to work despite injuries. Among the fastest-growing industries of the digital age are those predicated on patching up casualties. However, if you lack the funds to access physical therapy, gym time, acupuncture, massage, or medical care, you are left alone with the FAQ at excedrin.com.

Pain morphs into panic when such problems threaten to stop you working, and this was how I initially heard about Samarya. My early informants were a frightened professional dancer, an injured martial arts instructor, and a computer programmer who could barely get out of bed. I was in a similar state, and their fervent testimonials sounded very convincing. But yoga still seemed foreign, too daunting and too time-consuming. After a bout of orthopedic surgery, I finally clicked on the link to their Web site - and noticed the class for chronic pain was to begin that week. Very reluctantly, I dragged myself to their doorstep.

I didn't know a mudra from a biryani and dreaded facing a studio of self-confident colleagues in Spandex. Many years ago, I had done a few yoga classes but my only recent memories came from scenes in Sex and the City. Most of all, however, I worried about a single thing. Today, I hurt all over; tomorrow, would I feel even worse?

That walk through Samarya's door turned out to be the hard part. Inside, a genuine epiphany awaited me - a process that, within three months, has worked what I consider wonders. It was hardly a magical route and I have had my share of lows. However, the ingredients of this special Seattle blend have done more for me than a decade's worth of doctors, drugs, gyms, and other remedies.

I joined in their yoga-infused training and practice: learning to "re-structure" the concept of breath, to stretch and to strengthen, all the while guided by gentle hands and unfailing patience. The class has thought and speculated about where pain might originate, while striving to meet our guides' insistence on working in the moment, rather than "curing" anything.

Instead of how to surmount our problems, we have discussed acceptance, how to achieve it, and what this might entail. "Sharing" in the class has yielded widely different observations (rather than the orgy of self-involvement I half-expected). The biggest change, however, arrived very subtly. Once I made this viewpoint and routine a part of everyday life, what had been ongoing pain for years simply started to lessen. Crippling headaches became less frequent; frozen shoulders came "unstuck"; and, after work, I could suddenly stand up straight - rather than limping or cringing away from the desk. Just as remarkably, unless I am mistaken, classmates who work as servers, performers, and computer programmers seem to be gaining similar strengths and resources.

But then Samarya's whole understanding of pain is singular. As Molly Kenny puts it, "The mainstream model of medical treatment today is always prescriptive. You solve things by taking a pill, undergoing an operation, or agreeing to shoulder blame - concurring it was something you did or are that caused your problem. Even yoga therapists, we find, often prescribe: They will dictate a regimen of poses."

She pushes back a lock of streaked magenta hair. "Here we consider yoga first as a practice for difficult times. Patanjali, who is sort of the major yoga sage, cites five obstructions to happiness, all of which stem from the first one - which is a lack of knowing our true nature. Yoga encourages the embrace of now, of whomever you may be in this actual moment. The practice of yoga, too, is just that ... it's a practice. You work towards change but to make that change requires you practicing."