My yoga teachers informed me that my right hip gets stuck, while the left is flexible; they’ve alerted me that my right shoulder sits higher than the left; they’ve drawn my attention to my left arm, which in straight arm poses lapses into a bend. How did I not know these things about my own body? I’d been living in a daze, letting my curve decide how the rest of me should accommodate it.

I worked closely (and slowly) with my body to become increasingly aware of my unique spine and what I could do to reduce the pain. I learned to pause and observe my mind and my body as I held poses for long periods of time. After a couple of years of attending yoga classes once a week, I revisited the doctor and to my surprise, the lower curve in my spine appeared to have diminished by three degrees. My condition was improving. People commented on my posture, but this time, positively.

Going to yoga classes once a week helped minimize my immediate scoliosis pain, but eventually I grew lazy. By the time I moved to Los Angeles in 2015 to live with my fiancé, my back pain had retrogressed. At times, the sensation was so overwhelming, I had difficulty focusing on my work. Eventually, I decided to sign up for a three-month study with Koren Paalman, certified Iyengar yoga teacher, who is a student of Elise Browning Miller, the foremost authority on yoga for scoliosis. Koren would hear my history, follow my progress, and select therapeutic poses for me to practice at home. These poses held the potential to reduce pain, strengthen muscles that weakened from my unevenness, improve balance and mobility, and propel me toward a more aligned state. She’d take before and after photos. We both hoped for change.

The first pose Koren chose for me was something she learned directly from Mr. Iyengar: hanging sirsasana—a version of headstand where one hangs upside down from ropes attached to hooks on the wall—but with a twist. Unlike classic headstand, this pose allows the neck to lengthen freely, which is especially helpful for those with a curve imbalance.

While suspended in air, I didn’t have to work with strained attention to straighten my back or decompress my neck—gravity did it for me. Koren then handed me a cold rolled steel bar to hold to one side of my body—a counter-rotation of my spine designed to bring evenness. Instead of the constant pain I carried like a lead chain draped over my right shoulder, I felt weightless relief, even enjoyment.

Koren gave me a total of seven poses to practice. At first, I had to force myself. But in time, my body craved them. I know that if I can get myself into the ropes for just five minutes, my pain will subside. My mind will quiet. The results will come with consistent conscientious practice.

My spine may never be straight and my scoliosis will never be cured. But learning about my physical alignment has made me so much more attentive to how I move through the world. Instead of ignoring the signals from my meandering vertebrae, I notice the shapes of things—of trees, of buildings, of my body.

Even when I’m not practicing yoga, I align myself. Instead of hunching, I create space between my neck and shoulders. I assert will to release my sticky right hip. I try to hold my spine as straight as a needle. These actions are becoming embedded in my muscle memory. Little by little, I have less pain. I stand taller. Change is gradual, but it’s happening.

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