Alam mo yung moment na hanggang tuhod ka sa totoong buhay, pagnanasa ng isang bagay na nagpapabagal sa iyong nakagawian nang hindi dinudurog ang iyong kaluluwa? Iyan ay kung paano ako natisod sa SUP yoga. Hindi dahil isa akong zen master—hell no. Dahil napakaraming beses kong natisod ang sarili kong mga paa sa regular na klase ng yoga, at tila mas malambot ang tubig.
Larawan ng Lake Tahoe noong nakaraang tag-araw. Ang tahimik ni Dawn at narinig mo ang paghikab ng isda. Hinahakot ko itong nakakatawang sobrang laki ng paddle board patungo sa dalampasigan (para sa isang tip: magrenta ng mga gulong para sa iyong board, o kamumuhian ka ng iyong mga bisig). Ang lamig ng tubig kapag nilublob ko ang daliri ko. “I-screw ito,” ungol ko, at bumagsak ang tiyan sa board. Sa loob ng sampung minuto, nakahiga lang ako dun, idiniin ang pisngi sa vinyl, pinagmamasdan ang mga minnows na kumakas sa ilalim ko. Walang pose. Walang ambisyon. Ako lang at ang lawa na may staring contest. Iyon ang unang aralin: Magsisimula ang SUP yoga kapag huminto ka sa pagsisikap na maging mahusay dito.
Bakit Binabago ng Tubig ang Lahat (Bukod sa Damit Mo)
Sa lupa, yoga ay maaaring pakiramdam tulad ng isang negosasyon na may gravity. Sa tubig? Ito ay isang ganap na pag-uusap na may kaguluhan. Ang iyong board ay hindi matatag na lupa-ito ay isang buhay na bagay. Huminga ito kasabay ng mga alon. Napapailing ito kapag sumisid ang mga pato sa malapit. Ang una ko “pababang aso” natapos ako sa pagkain ng lawa dahil nakalimutan ko ang isang katotohanan: pinalalaki ng tubig ang pag-aalinlangan. Kung nanginginig ka sa loob, nag-tantrum ang board.
Natutunan ko itong mid-Warrior III. Nakaunat ang mga braso, lumulutang ang kanang binti sa likod ko, pakiramdam tulad ng isang badass… hanggang sa isang speedboat wake gumulong. Nagkalat ang tabla. Sigaw ng utak ko “I-ABORT!” Naka-lock ang mga kalamnan. Splash. Kalaunan, tawa ng instructor kong si Carla: “Na-tense ka. Nakakaramdam ng takot ang tubig. Sa susunod, umiling-iling dito. Be a seaweed, not a statue.”
Gear Truths Nobody Tells You
The Board: My rookie mistake? Renting a sleek racing paddle board(“It’s on sale!”). Big mistake. Narrow boards = anxiety generators. What you want is the SUP yoga equivalent of a Volvo station wagon—wide (34″+), makapal (5-6″), with a grippe mat. Mine’s 11 feet of turquoise stability named “Bertha.” She’s not sexy, but she keeps me dry.
The Paddle: Don’t just chuck it aside during poses. Lay it across your board like a train track. It’s your visual anchor when dizziness hits. (True story: I once spent Boat Pose white-knuckling my paddle like a light saber. It helped.)
Clothing: That cute cotton tank? It’s a sponge with regrets. Wear quick-dry fabric that won’t drag you down when (not if) you plunge. And for god’s sake, sunscreen your feet. I spent a week moon walking on heel blisters.
How to Not Drown 101: A Step-by-Step Wobble Guide
Phase 1: Become Friends with the Water (Sitting/Kneeling)
Minutes 0-5: Sit cross-legged. Close your eyes. Notice how the board:
Rocks when you inhale
Settles when you exhale
Tilts when a bass jumps left of you (true terror)
Minutes 5-15: Kneel. Try Cat-Cow. Feel your hips sway with the water, not against it. “Let your spine be a willow branch,” Carla would drone. I’d think “More like a drunk willow.” But it works.
Phase 2: The Great Stand-Up Betrayal
Standing’s a mind game. Your legs will shake. Your board will shimmy. Do this:
1. Plant hands shoulder-width.
2. Tuck one foot flat under your butt.
3. Push up to a low squat (“Frog Pose”), hands still down.
4. Breathe. Let the wobbles pass like bad karaoke.
5。Rise slowly—inch by inch—keeping knees bent.
Why this works? You’re not fighting balance. You’re negotiating with momentum.
Poses That Won’t Dump You (Immediately)
“Safe” Poses for Newbies:
| Pose | Why It Works | Reality Check |
| Child’s Pose | Low center of gravity. Feels like hugging a raft. | Your nose will get wet. Embrace it. |
| Seated Twist | Water amplifies the spinal wring. Feels amazing. | Don’t twist hard. Water does half the work. |
| Bridge | Hip lifts are shockingly stable on water. | Keep feet hip-width or you’ll slide wide. |
| Tree Pose | Ha! Psych. Save this for day 3. | Just kidding. Don’t. Yet. |
“Splash Zone” Poses (Try Anyway):
Boat Pose: Core burner. Key: Gaze at horizon, not toes. Toes = vertigo.
Warrior II: Secret weapon: Sink hips LOWER than on land. Water supports you.
Camel Pose: Surprisingly doable! Why: Water lifts your heart. Risk: Over-arch = backflip.
Falling: The Sacred Ritual
My first fall was pure panic. Flailing limbs. Water up my nose. The shock of cold.
Fall #5? I belly-laughed. Because:
Falling reboots your nervous system (that gasp is nature’s reset button).
It humbles you. (Nothing like a duck watching you flounder.)
Climbing back on? That’s your real victory.
How to fall “right”:
- Don’t fight it. Tensing = belly flop. Go limp = clean dive.
2. Cover your head. Boards bounce unpredictably.
3. Climb back SIDEWAYS: Hand on far rail, kick like a mermaid, roll aboard.
The Unspoken Magic: Why SUP Yoga Sticks
After three months of SUP yoga, I realized something: I wasn’t just better on the board. I was calmer off it. Why?
1. Water Forces Presence
Land yoga lets your mind wander (“Did I pay the electric bill…?”). Sa tubig? A wandering mind = a wet ass. You learn to focus or swim.
2. Imperfection Becomes the Point
My crow pose still looks like a wounded seagull. But now I celebrate the 2 seconds I hovered. Progress isn’t linear—it’s wobbly.
3. You Join Nature’s Rhythm
One dawn, mid-savanna, a beaver slapped its tail beside my board. I didn’t jump. Just smiled. When you move with water, you stop being an intruder. You become part of the ecosystem.
Final Wisdom from the Lake
SUP yoga won’t make you Instagram-famous (unless you fall creatively). It’ll give you:
Goosebumps when a heron glides past your Warrior II
Calloused palms from hauling your board
The ability to laugh at your own clumsiness
Last week, a newbie asked me: “How do I get stable out here?” I handed her my paddle. “Stop trying to be stable. Be fluid instead.”
She fell three times in ten minutes. But when she finally stood, knees bent, arms wide, grinning like a kid on a skateboard? That’s the real pose.
Balance isn’t about stillness. It’s about finding your center while everything moves.
So go find your lake. Fall in. Climb back. And remember:
“The water’s not your enemy—it’s your dance partner. And sometimes, dance partners step on your feet.”
