How a Paralyzed Man Found Healing and Power Through Yoga

After coming back from India, I became very attentive to the stories of others who became injured and healed quickly due to yoga. Many people thought I should stop yoga or assumed I would not be able to do anything; forgetting yoga’s most important message – become limitless!

The following is about Matthew Sanford, and I invite you to remember his story (if you dare) the next time you say, “I can’t do yoga.”

The Paralyzed Yoga Teacher: I Do Yoga Backwards

At 13, Matthew Sanford was paralyzed from the chest down in a car accident that killed his father and sister. His yoga practice is an exploration of the “really cool subtle things that happen in a yoga pose.”

The Journey from Overcoming to Embodiment

I came to yoga because I got tired of constantly trying to overcome my body. That’s what people told me to do—build a strong upper body and drag my lower body through life. But after 12 years of treating my paralyzed body like something to conquer, I lost so much of the joy in living. I needed something different. I needed to feel my body again.

Since I’ve never lived near my teacher, my yoga practice has always been personal. It’s been something I explore on my own. That’s what many students miss when they only show up to class. You can’t fully make the practice your own there—you don’t get the same space to experiment, to play.

Why Yoga Isn’t Just Physical

I can’t lift my legs or flex the muscles, but I still feel something. A hum. A tingling. A buzz. My yoga practice is about tuning into that hum. It’s not just some vague, spiritual idea—I mean it literally. Because of my paralysis, I’ve come to appreciate that the sound “Om” actually resonates with that vibration. So, I focus on alignment and precision in the poses, because they amplify that hum throughout both the paralyzed and non-paralyzed parts of my body

I’ve practiced Iyengar yoga for nearly 17 years. I no longer worry about doing the most complicated poses. Instead, I care more about refining the base of each pose. If I can deepen that foundation—even in the simplest shape—everything else begins to unfold from there.

The Power of Foundation in Yoga

Because I don’t walk, I always start my practice by grounding myself. I spend time just feeling the floor. I might sit in Dandasana (Staff Pose) and stretch my heel by pulling one foot back—something most people get from walking. That’s how I warm up. I replicate what others get from standing.

Breaking Down Poses to Build Them Up

I still do full poses, but I also break them into parts. Take Shirshasana (Headstand), for example—it’s too complicated and takes too much assistance for me to get into the full version. So I study what matters most in that pose. What does Shirshasana really teach the body and mind? I’ve learned the feeling it creates in the spine is similar to Padmasana (Lotus Pose). Of course, there’s pressure on the top of your head in Headstand, so I’ll improvise—maybe place a book on my head or do Chaturanga with my head lightly touching a wall. I find ways to replicate that feeling of extension and connection. I piece poses together like a quilt.

Yoga Is for Every Body—Including Yours

When I teach, adapt, or practice yoga, I don’t start with the action. I start with the experience and then figure out what action it requires. Most people do Trikonasana (Triangle Pose) 3,000 times and then eventually find the experience. I work backward. I have to sense the feeling and follow it.

I have to trust the building blocks. But isn’t that true for everyone? That’s the real yogic realization: when you stop getting caught up in the drama of the full pose and stay focused on the simplicity. That’s when the magic happens.

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