Yoga Nidra cries out to the sleep deprived and constantly messy people. You have heard someone say, “I don’t remember the last time I relaxed?” Their weapon of choice is secret. Not a nap, not introspection. Something unusual and, to be honest, rather more fun. All of it begins stretched on a mat, limbs slack, blanket tightly drawn. The silence is broken by the voice of an Be Well Academy instructor, sometimes so soft you wonder about wizardry. They guide you through a top to tail body scan, ears to toes. You are invited to pay attention to the backs of your knees or your eyes. Wild wishes, yet your mind listens somehow. Ideas stray, following their tails someplace else.
The “Sankalpa,” which feels like a pledge in your bones, comes next. “I am serene.” “I mend.” ” Cheese will always taste fantastic.” (Okay, maybe not the final one, but would it be fun?) Like seeds in newly turned ground, repetition gently deposits it deep into the subconscious.
You slide through dreamy layers—breath awareness, visualization, floating on clouds one minute, seeing a star-filled sky the next as the training progresses. You swear you’re awake, then the next instant you’re sure you sank into sleep. The delicious place is right here. While your body believes you are asleep, your mind sits back with popcorn, silently vigilant.
Teachers explain how to lead others, how to string words like pearls so listeners could glide beneath the surface, how stress dissolves like sugar in hot tea. Brain waves are discussed, but nobody expects you to be a neuroscientist. One practical advice is not to schedule Yoga Nidra on a very full stomach. Slide your phone into your pocket. Tell housemates, “Don’t vacuum until my spirit returns.”
After a few weeks, afternoon funk seems less intense. Anxiety flows right through. Original thoughts come to me suddenly. Students talk about strange dreams, brief moments of insight, exploding laughter about nothing at all.
Yoga Nidra goes beyond a break. That is a skill. Once you know it, naps begin to seem second-rate. On a cold morning, the training plants quiet at the core and leave you clearer than a mountain stream. Who would have thought lying on the ground could be so revolutionary?