Opening scene
In a class, the teacher says: "Pull your shoulder back."
There are fifteen people in the room, and at least four different things happen.
One person draws their shoulder blades toward each other. One pushes their chest forward. One presses their shoulder down. One moves their arm backward while the shoulder stays right where it was.
All four heard the instruction. All four think they carried it out.
Now hear another version of the same instruction: "Slide your shoulder blade toward your spine."
This sentence leaves nothing to guess. Which bone, which direction, relative to what.
This lesson is about that difference. The body has a map, and that map has direction names. Once you learn the names, two things happen: you understand someone else's description correctly, and you can write down your own observation.
What this lesson covers
First we'll talk about why a starting position is needed at all; every direction description requires a reference. Then we'll set up anatomical position, and you'll get to know the midline. After that we'll open up the direction terms in pairs, because none of them carries meaning on its own. Then you'll see that these terms are relative, meaning they're always said relative to something. With sixteen examples, we'll read vague and precise descriptions of the same movement side by side. By the end of the lesson, you'll be able to describe any movement in your body in a way that leaves no room for anyone's interpretation.
Starting point
Where is "up"?
When you're standing, you answer easily. But when you're lying on your back, where is up? The ceiling, or the direction your head points?
Now ask the same question about your arm. Your arm is open to the side, your palm facing the ceiling. When I say turn your arm "up," what will you do? Will you rotate the palm further, or lift the arm toward the ceiling?
Here's the problem: when direction words are said relative to the room, their meaning changes as the body moves.
The solution to this is simple and clever. We detach the body from the room and make it its own reference. Directions are no longer stated relative to the ceiling or the floor, but relative to the body's own starting position.
Now here's the part that feels strange: palms facing forward. Nobody stands like that. But this isn't a posture recommendation, it's a zero point. Just like the zero on a ruler; we don't expect you to stand there, we measure from there.
Here's what this means in practice: even lying on your back, we don't say "up." Whichever direction your head is in, in anatomical position, keeps that same name no matter how the body is positioned. When you lie down, the ceiling becomes "front," because that was the direction your chest faced when you were standing.
This single idea carries the whole term system.
Mechanism
The midline and the two sides
Divide the body exactly in half, with a line running from your nose down to your navel.
If something is approaching the midline, it's moving inward; if it's moving away, it's moving outward. These have technical names, and you'll learn them two lessons from now; for now, the direction is enough.
The practical value of the midline is this: almost every balance movement in yoga is about where the weight sits relative to the midline. And almost every discussion of symmetry looks at this line.
Direction pairs
Direction terms aren't memorized one at a time, they're learned in pairs. Because none of them carries meaning alone; each one forms an axis together with its opposite.
First pair: front and back. The side your chest faces is front, the side your back faces is back. The kneecap is at the front, the heel is at the back.
Second pair: above and below. The head is above, the foot is below. The shoulder is above the elbow.
Third pair: inner and outer. What's close to the midline is inner, what's far is outer. The big toe is on the inner side, the little toe is on the outer side.
The fourth pair isn't for the torso, it's specific to the arm and leg.
Why does this pair exist separately? Because when you lift your arm, "above" and "below" flip, but proximal and distal don't. The shoulder is always proximal relative to the elbow, no matter where the arm is. Because limbs move, they need to carry their own reference with them.
The fifth pair is about depth: superficial and deep. What's close to the skin is superficial, what stays inside is deep. This distinction is useful when talking about layers of muscle.
The terms are relative
Now let's get to the point that's missed most often.
No direction term is absolute. Each one is waiting for the question "relative to what."
The knee is distal relative to the hip, but proximal relative to the ankle. The same knee, at the same time, is both far and close. There's no contradiction; there are just two different comparisons.
That's why a good description always includes two things: which structure, and relative to what. "Slide your shoulder blade down" is an incomplete description; "slide your shoulder blade down along your ribs, meaning toward your hip" is complete.
Why this works in yoga
These terms aren't learned for an anatomy exam; they're learned for three concrete jobs.
The first is understanding an instruction. When you hear a cue, you're not guessing which structure goes where.
The second is writing your own observation. In the previous lesson, you learned to keep an observation log. "Something felt off" can't be written down usefully; "my left shoulder blade sits further out than my right" can.
The third is talking to a professional. There's a big difference between telling a doctor or physical therapist "it hurts here" and telling them "on the inner side of my knee, just below the kneecap."
Reading the examples
Master layer
Now let's refine what I just said a little.
I described anatomical position as a zero point. The truth is, this system has a cost: we describe the body by tying it to a motionless reference, but the body is in motion. Having to think about which direction counts as "front" in the middle of a pose pulls attention away from the movement. That's why the terms are used not during the movement, but before and after it. Terms when you're planning and recording; feeling when you're doing.
Second nuance: more than one correct description can exist for the same structure. "Slide your shoulder blade toward your spine" and "slide your shoulder blade inward" say the same thing. The purpose of the term system isn't to impose one single correct sentence, it's to remove ambiguity. A description is correct if it leaves no ambiguity.
Third, the terms can produce a false sense of precision. Naming a movement correctly doesn't mean you understand that movement. Being able to say "hip flexion" isn't the same as knowing what the hip is doing in that movement. Naming is a starting point; the next three lessons will open up the mechanism underneath these names.
Fourth, and subtlest: direction terms don't replace yoga's traditional language for the body. The centers and channels in subtle body maps have no place in this coordinate system, and aren't expected to; they belong to a different kind of language. Mixing the two in the same sentence is the mistake this course avoids most. Knowing which language a concept belongs to is a precondition for using that concept correctly.
Common mistakes and misconceptions
Common mistakeFirst mistake: anatomical position is an ideal posture.
It isn't. Standing with your palms facing forward isn't recommended to anyone; it's a starting point for measurement, not a posture goal. There's no such thing as "stand more anatomically," and if you hear that sentence, you know the term is being misused.
Common mistakeSecond mistake: direction terms are relative to the room.
As the body moves, the room reference breaks down. For someone lying on their back, the ceiling isn't "up"; whatever direction the chest faced in anatomical position stays "front" the whole time. This distinction saves descriptions especially in work done lying down.
Common mistakeThird mistake: if I know enough terms, I'll understand the movement.
Naming and understanding are different things. Knowing the name of a movement lets you describe it; the next lessons will open up how it works, which structures contribute, and why it comes out differently in your own body. Memorizing a list of terms and stopping there is reading the map and never setting out on the road.
Common mistakeFourth mistake: right and left are always obvious.
In yoga classes, right and left are the student's own right and left, not the teacher's or the screen's. Watching a video filmed facing you reverses this, and many people end up working the same side over and over without realizing it. Clarifying once, as you keep records, which side is which prevents a confusion that could otherwise last for weeks.
Practice
Keep in mind
Direction terms are stated relative to the body's own starting position, not the room; anatomical position is a measurement zero, not a posture goal.
Terms are learned in pairs: front and back, above and below, inner and outer, proximal and distal, superficial and deep.
No term is absolute; each one is waiting for the question "relative to what," and the knee can be both proximal and distal at the same time.
A good description contains a structure name and a direction; if either is missing, the sentence is open to interpretation.
Naming isn't understanding; the terms aren't the map itself, they're the names on the map.
Bridge to the next lesson
You can now name directions. But movement doesn't happen in a direction, it happens in a plane. Over the next three lessons, we'll open up, one at a time, the three planes the body moves in. The first is the plane yoga spends the most time in, and for exactly that reason, becomes the most unbalanced in: the sagittal plane.