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.

What does this mean?

Posters, the floor is yours…

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.

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.

Cool!