10,000 Vinyasas

I’ve always wondered why yoga workshops are called that, instead of “seminars.” Seminar seems to have a more intellectual connotation, while “workshop” seems more, I dunno, practical or something. Anyhow, here are some pictures of me at the event…it was a good one.

Here we all are, together.

Here's Nancy!

Adjustments...I used to hate this pose, and I'm still struggling for stability in it, but it's come a long way.

Navasana...showing my best side...repeated demonstrating this pose in class has increased my ability to hold it.

I just got back from this strenuous and satisfying workshop, hosted by Castle Hill Yoga in Austin. It was my opportunity to meet another of the First Ashtanga People (those revered elders who “discovered” Ashtanga and Pattabhi Jois back in the early Seventies), and I wasn’t disappointed. Nancy gives off a non-threatening, unpretentious, caring and yet very traditional vibe. It was easy and fun to practice Primary and most of Second Series with her and her assistant giving adjustments.

I was particularly fascinated with the contrast in perspectives between Nancy and her former spouse, David Williams, whom I had studied with in November of last year. Nancy directly contradicted David Williams’ account of their experience with Pattabhi Jois; David had said that he stopped teaching Ashtanga for 12 years because of a disagreement with Jois and others over what he termed “rough adjustments.” Nancy’s take: David was “terrified” of Guruji’s adjustments, and would come out of the pose to avoid them. His practice was advanced enough to not really need adjustments at that point. David also got into a shouting match with Pattabhi Jois, and left Mysore thereafter (one has to imagine just how damaging not just questioning the teacher, but actively rebelling, would have been in a traditional yoga environment like Mysore to really understand the full effect of such an occurrence). Another contrast to David Williams: Nancy also mentioned that, even though she was 62 years old, her practice into Third and Fourth Series is still progressing.

I was also interested in the changes which had occurred over the years to Primary Series, and the ones Nancy described were right in line with David Williams and Doug Swenson’s recollections. Seems that Primary has become more and more difficult as the years have gone by. Other “light bulb” moments: Nancy told us that the length of the breath was not as important as making your inhales and exhales of equal length (we also participated in a demonstration of that principle; it does seem more calming to breath equally in this way). I had always thought that lengthening the breath was part of the practice, but Nancy indicated that certain parts of Primary are so strenuous that you should breathe more quickly and forcefully. Highly interesting. We also got more on the rounding of the back in forward bends, a practice peculiar to Ashtanga, and one I had never received any explanation or instruction on. She was quite effective in communicating the differences between Iyengar/Anasura and Ashtanga styles, which I found extremely helpful (in essence, she described Ashtanga as an internally focused style–the bandhas are examples of this, while the other styles are outwardly directed, alignment based, and do not use the breath to create heat). Consequently, the correct forms of the poses differ, sometimes slightly and sometimes in larger ways. Trying to use Iyengar alignment principles in a movement based system like Ashtanga will result in injuries, according to Nancy. She also noted that what’s thought of as the traditional Ashtanga practice of stopping students when they are unable to attain the pose was actually a product of the “new generation,” not Pattabhi Jois’ teaching; in fact, she stated that practicing Second Series before achieving proficiency in Primary was actually beneficial and would “protect” you. I didn’t get to ask her more about that one.

We did do a good deal of Second Series, and then closed with a practice called “loving kindness meditation.” Very nice. I was sorry I couldn’t attend the entire immersion workshop (particularly missing the adjustment parts), but my schedule just wouldn’t permit it this time. I will certainly make it a point to seek out this wonderful teacher whenever I can.

“Yoga makes the impossible possible…”

What does this mean?

Posters, the floor is yours…

I want to explore what I think is one of the major areas of opposition in practicing yoga: the contrast between the “first, do no harm” perspective, as exemplified by gentle/restorative/YogaFit, and the “more challenge” point of view, as propagated by such systems of thought as Ashtanga yoga and the cover and pictorial content of magazines like Yoga Journal. It seems to me that these contrasting perspectives are in conflict, or at least there’s a tension between them. I think of listening to David Williams, having done Ashtanga yoga for 40 years, expounding on his strongly held beliefs that yoga should never hurt, that injuries are worse than counterproductive, and yoga is ultimately a means to an end: meditation, while at the same time being surrounded at that particular studio by photos of extreme achievements in yoga performed by persons with, shall we say, attractive physical development. Similarly, although it devotes print space to meditation, finding inner peace, and restorative yoga poses, the underlying message of the pictorial representations in Yoga Journal might lead one to conclude that achieving these ultimate expressions is in fact, the goal of practicing yoga. As a further example, one of the posters here recently took issue with the strict Mysore practice of stopping a student when a pose could not be fully attained and sending them directly to the closing sequence, pointing out that it seemed to make the attainment of asanas the end result of practicing.

Well, I’m sure that no serious Ashtanga practitioner would concede that attaining particular asanas or sequences are the goals of the practice, and theoretically, I’m sure that’s true. It’s just that there does seem to be an effect, even if unintended, that results in students desiring to be able to attain “flashy” poses that look good (presumably for a camera), without realizing that those poses are simply expressions of the amount of work and practice undertaken, sometimes over long periods of time. It’s perfectly natural to feel positive about one’s “progress” in yoga, especially if that is expressed by ability to practice difficult asanas or sequences with more ease, but we should realize that indulging these feelings detracts from attaining the more ephemeral benefits of yoga: a calmer mind, more positive energy, greater facility in the rest of our lives, peace and serenity. Pictorial representations ought to be looked at as inspirational only; as an example of how the pose could look, nothing more. Teachers and practitioners of aggressive, athletic systems of yoga like Ashtanga should continually remind themselves and their students of the non-attachment to achieving poses.

Closely related to this, I think, is the lack of understanding among beginning students as to how wide the horizon is in yoga; in other words, some poses are so difficult or require so much opening of the body that one’s progress can only be measured, if at all, in millimeters, and over months or even years. This should not be discouraging; on the contrary, it is exactly the reason that yoga is a lifelong practice: one is never finished.

On the other hand, rarely venturing outside one’s comfort zone (which is as inaccurate in describing the gentle perspective as characterizing Ashtanga as achievement-oriented is, but still, there’s some truth in it) unduly limits one’s potential to challenge our bodies and minds, to go deeper into poses, and to find hidden abilities to attain poses previously thought impossible. In other words, if you never practice it, you’ll never do it. Worse, you may put more faith in the misleading thoughts that run through your head; you know, the ones that say you will never be able to practice this pose. In particular, yoga skill is not particularly dependent on age, even though some younger, more flexible people can more easily do some poses, many older people find themselves attaining higher levels of asanas than they ever thought possible, while others who are handcuffed by their thoughts of ageism, unnecessarily limit themselves.

With all of the above, I’m prepared to offer some conclusions:

1. Yoga is all about balance; therefore, there should be some balance between extreme physical asanas and gentle, restorative types of yoga.

2. Injuries, although they may teach us about ourselves and help us develop more empathy for other practitioners’ physical infirmities, by and large are counterproductive to yoga practice and ought to be avoided when possible. One of the ways to avoid injury is to be especially mindful of the messages the body sends to the mind. Extreme physical exertions ought to be followed by rest (see balance, above).

3. It would behoove the editors of certain publications to use less glamorous models in their visual depictions.

4. There is value is challenging one’s progress in yoga; in particular, yoga practice is an active, evolving thing, as one’s abilities change (whether through age or skill). Being satisfied and content with one’s practice is not the same as becoming complacent or static.

5. It is valuable and inspirational to view live representations of difficult poses, through one’s teacher or other practitioners. In particular, safe ways of getting into difficult poses should be pursued.

6. Since yoga is (or ought to be) a lifetime practice, a longer term view is useful when encountering poses that pose particular challenges and resist mastery. If it takes months or years, so be it.

7. Since yoga is an individual practice, every one has the responsibility of discovering ones’ strengths, weaknesses and issues, and what to do about them. Teachers can provide much guidance, but ultimately, no one knows your body and mind the way you do.

A clarification: it was not my intent in this post to take to task Ashtanga yoga, a system of asanas and ways of thought that I greatly admire. My concern here is that the rather extreme athleticism that practicing Ashtanga entails can frequently lead to injuries, and indeed, Ashtanga has an unfortunate reputation of causing physical damage, when applied in the wrong circumstances. What I mean by wrong circumstances are misunderstandings by students and teachers as to the proper attitude concerning the asanas. Because of its physically demanding nature, Ashtanga is acutely vulnerable to such misconceptions, especially among newer practitioners. The style is also particularly prone to overly aggressive teachers, who push students into poses they aren’t ready for, or adjust too roughly. Here, I do have some experience, both with injuries (knee, shoulder) and contact with overly aggressive adjustments, so I suppose I’m offering up this post as a sort of cautionary tale.

I’ve arrived! Something that I’ve thought about for a long time, but never really aimed for, has come to me: I’ve been asked to teach the Saturday morning vinyasa class at Yoga Shala, starting in August. This is especially meaningful for me because I used to attend this class religiously when my teacher Ken led it, not to mention that I believe, with quite a bit of justification, that Yoga Shala is the premier yoga studio in San Antonio. Quite an honor. Everyone has been so nice and supportive, and although it will be a challenge, it’s something that will both fit my schedule and give me an extra dimension to my teaching. Thank you, Ana, for giving me this chance! In other news, I will be teaching yoga at Lululemon on Saturday, July 17, as part of their “Spectrum Rogers Ranch” month. I’ve always wondered what that would be like, so I guess now I’ll find out.

This causes me to reflect, again, on how I got here. It’s interesting to me that my approach to yoga (well, this implies some intention that perhaps I didn’t have) was just to do more and more, and be open to expanding my knowledge by taking whatever workshops and classes I was attracted to (and there were many). I really didn’t think much about “goals” or direction of any kind; I just did whatever I could to enhance my yoga practice. I’m still amazed at the places yoga has taken me: teaching yoga on tv, teaching yoga in general, acro-yoga, Lululemon, and everything else that has happened. It’s so different from the rest of my life (yes, I know I’ve said that before, but still); everything planned out and set in concrete. I suppose that’s what a second career should be: fun and without all the ambition and purpose (and anxiety) that drives you at the beginning of your first career. I have no idea where else yoga is going to take me, and that’s part of the mystery and fun of the practice.

I have, on occasion, recommended to students that they visit a local studio (since I practice at one, specifically, I recommended that one). Such suggestions, by and large, have fallen flat. Reflecting upon my own transition from “gym yoga” classes to those at a studio causes me to realize that making a change like this looms a bit larger in peoples minds than I realized at first. Here are some possible reasons yoga students find it difficult to make that jump:

1. It’s an added expense. When you’re used to paying a monthly fee for all facilities and classes at a gym, and you contemplate paying for every yoga class at a studio, it requires you to create a little more space in your budget, which people may be unable or reluctant to do. The counter to this, of course, is that, generally, the quality of instruction at a yoga studio is going to be higher (sometimes, quite a bit higher), and so the extra expense is justified, but that’s not necessarily visible to someone who hasn’t yet experienced the yoga studio.

2. It’s another unfamiliar environment. People imagine (I suppose) that they are not skilled enough to walk into a yoga studio and begin practicing, perhaps thinking that the students as well as the instructors are at a much higher level than they are. This, with some qualifications, is simply wrong. There is a bit of self-selection in the clientele of a yoga studio, but by and large, there are just as many mixed level classes and students in studios as there are in gyms. On the other hand, the classes at a yoga studio tend to be more stratified in terms of difficulty, and studios are quite open about what those differing levels of difficulty are, which of course leads to one being able to choose a suitable class more carefully. I’ve been to studios for the first time and indicated that I wanted to attend a particular class, and was questioned by the person signing me up as to my abilities and experience, which I appreciated since it was clear that they didn’t want me to end up in a class that was beyond my capabilities.

3. Classes may not be offered at convenient times. It’s mostly true, except for perhaps the most popular yoga studios, that class schedules tend to be limited, and the location may not be as convenient either. Again, the reluctance here is probably due to not experiencing the value of the instruction and overall experience firsthand. Someone who has may be more inclined to overcome logistical issues.

4. There are undoubtedly some people who are more comfortable with certain aspects of “gym yoga,” i.e., the lack of chanting, mantras, Sanskrit, etc. These people are the ones who tend to mistake these aspects of yoga as religious attempts to convert them, when yoga is nothing of the kind. Not wanting to be judgmental here, and avoiding the sensitive topic of religion, I would just note that these people are incorrect in their prejudice. No one will ever seek to replace/supplant someone else’s religious beliefs in yoga. Of course, people who believe this are probably not going to change their minds, and probably shouldn’t visit a yoga studio anyway.

I view finding and practicing at a yoga studio as another step in the journey that begins with your first yoga class. When the time comes, your mind and body will let you know. Don’t let these mental objections overcome the exhilaration of taking that next step.

This is a post on why I don’t like using walls to teach headstands and handstands. First of all, I understand that instructors may be kind of forced into using a wall if they have a large class and that’s really the only feasible way to get everybody involved, as opposed to working one on one. I still believe, though, that the wall has some significant disadvantages, leading to a lack of success among people trying to attain these difficult inversions. I also suspect that many instructors lack the technical expertise to actually teach the correct forms of these poses (through no fault of their own, of course; it seems like there’s a lack of expertise in this area of yoga generally). That being said, the first objection I have to using the wall is that it encourages people to “kick up” into head and handstand. This kind of sudden movement into an inversion is undesirable, since it creates some (perhaps too much!) momentum which must then be countered with opposing momentum (read: movement) resulting in greater difficulty in setting down into the pose and attaining the correct form. Inversions and all forms of balancing in yoga should be approached with slow steadiness rather than sudden movements, which cause loss of control and falling over. Second and most important, using the wall the way it’s taught most of time, i.e, with placing the hands or arms two or more feet away from the wall, encourages arching of the back as the leg or legs go up. I’ve seen this so, so many times in yoga classes: student kicks up into wall, tries to straighten legs or bring legs away from wall, but the arched back almost immediately compels student to come right back down. Let me say this clearly: it is impossible to attain stability in head or handstand with an arched back. The back must be straight and flat. It’s just so much more difficult to come into the proper form if you’re already up there with your back in the wrong position. Some women, with their greater control over their musculature, have little difficulty kicking up into headstand, but I believe in the Iyengar method of walking the feet up towards the hips until the toes come off the floor, bending the knees and holding there until you feel comfortable enough to slowly straighten the legs. Teaching handstand almost requires you to assist a student one at a time, so you can hold/adjust them into the proper position. Well,that’s it. I’d sure like to hear from more experienced people about whether they agree with my views on this.