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Why Everyone Should Quit Doing Yoga

Lately I have been immersing myself in Taoist yoga practice and study. Stephen Mitchell's recent translation of the Tao te Ching is what set it off. It is without a doubt one of the most simple, powerful and graceful translations of the Tao I have read, and I've read a few. It coincides with a need in myself to find a new relationship to yoga. As my practice evolves and changes according to my needs in the moment, I find myself drawn to the meditative flow of Taoist vinyasa... Qi Kung based movements that are incredibly energizing, that are gentle but somehow amazingly powerful. I went out on a limb yesterday with my vinyasa class. I had a good excuse for it: It was a moon day. Traditonally days of rest in yoga, I decided to take advantage of it and teach a completely differnet class than I normally do. I explained it at the beginning, as we started with yin yoga for about an hour, getting deep into the joints and energy body, then I got everyone on their feet for the Taoist vinyasa. I took great care to demonstrate the sequence with ease and grace, and then went through a few rounds with the class before moving around and talking them through it. It was amazing to have 20 people moving together that way. A few wobbles here and there... to be expected. It was brand new for them and unfamiliar terriroty, but after a few rounds of movement, I could see how eaily they were caught in the wave of freeflowing energy and it was one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen in all my years of teaching. Afterward, they were glowing, radiant, and they LOOKED it! I often get positive comments after class, but this time they were specific to the practice and how it felt in their bodies. I'm sure now everyone loved it, but I am seriously tempted to start to teach this on a permanent basis. As I practice it more and more often myself I find I don't want to stop. I can get deep into meditative mindset with the movements.

It is said when the student is ready, the teacher will come. Stephen Mitchell doesn't know he's become a teaccher of mine. And perhaps it is also true, when the student is ready, the practice will come. Perhaps I am attracted to this practice for its ease. I close every class with the mantra "Lokah samastah sukhino bhavantu". May all beings be blessed with ease. Being a being myself, perhaps it is time, I devoted a bit of time to cultivating ease.

Pray for me. I'll need it.

Put This in Your Toolbox and Smoke It (And Inhale)

It's long overdue, I know... Keeping up with writing is elusive. Sorry about that. Mostly I know myself... That I will write too much, not edit enough, and lack the web skills to create a true blog format where one can just load the topics of interest. So bear with me. I know this isn't ideal, but what in life really is?

                 When I began yoga, I was attending Iyengar classes in the mornings, and after about a year of daily practice, I started adding Ashtanga classes in the afternoon, I kept this up until I tore a hamstring tendon badly enough that I had to seriously lay off all forward bending. Being progress-oriented rather than process-oriented this was unacceptable and frustrated me to no end. When I started applying to teacher training programs, I remember asking Rodney Yee what to do. He told me to "lay off the forward bends" but keep going because my injuries would make me a better teacher. I hated that answer! I wanted someone to make it better, to tell me what to do so I could move forward and reach my goals! My ashtanga yoga teacher told me to "breathe into it", whatever THAT meant! I hated that answer too! What does that even mean? Breathe into it? Into what? Pain? Frustration? Loss? Anger? I didn't understand and I thought it was just some bullshit answer that really was just a way for him to be lofty and superior, like he had some secret knowledge that someday, maybe, if I was lucky enough, understand.

                 Now, perhaps... finally.... so many years later... I am beginning to understand. "Breathe it in". Right! Of course! Pattabhi Jois, founder of ashtanga yoga, is famous for saying "practice, practice, all is coming..." Meaning, don't sweat the results.. Just do the work. It is a key message of the Bhagavad Gita.... Do your work without expectation of reward. In this regard, putting my leg behind my head is easier than letting go of expectation, and I'd wager that to be true for others as well.

                 Over the years I have danced back and forth between Iyengar and Ashtanga, Yin and Anusara, viniyoga and vinyasa. But always, always I return to my roots. My aging body doesn't do well with traditional ashtanga yoga and all that vinyasa BUT I have such a deep appreciation of the logic of the practice in terms of sequencing that I find it impossible to let it go forever. I may never do a perfect jump-through again. Heck I can't even manage all the vinyasas without wrecking my shoulder. But why throw the baby out with the bathwater? Once you understand, really understand what "breathe into it" means, the intelligent solution effortlessly appears.

                 People ask me why I teach ashtanga yoga. But I don't teach ashtanga yoga! Or Iyengar. Or Anusara. Not per se. I teach people how to use the tools of yoga, and I have devoted large amounts of time and energy to studying these tools and their uses. Every problem requires a different tool. Use a hammer to drive a screw and you end up with an enormous hole the threads can't grab. Pound a nail with a screwdriver and you're going to be pounding a very long time and getting nowhere! What I would ask of you is to look past the labels of this yoga or that yoga and see the tools. "Practice, practice..." "Breathe it in..."

                 According to The Yoga Sutras, Patanjali states what Yoga is: "the stilling of the fluctuations of the mind"; and Iyengar describes it as creating "perfect firmness of the body, steadiness of intelligence and benevolence of spirit". If you come to me for yoga, you are going to get a very direct, clear instruction for perfection of body, that when practiced regularly will lead to stillness of mind. The benevolence of spirit part is up to you. It can't be taught, but only shared or given. My benevolence won't look like yours, just like my postures won't look like yours. Sometimes benevolence takes the form of ruthlessness, and sometimes gentleness is disastrous. Where I need a hammer, you might need a screwdriver, but the practice itself is always the best teacher. Often people see Iyengar and Ashtanga yogas as being opposites or at odds with each other, but even Iyengar himself once said "if the body is the temple, then every breath, every movement is a prayer." Sounds an awful lot like a case of "you say to-may-to I say to-mah-to" to me. Whatever you call it, just make sure you bring your willingness to be open to life... It is by far the best tool in the toolbox.

Beginner's Mind, Again

Each month in my classes I chose a different them of exploration. This month I chose "Beginner's Mind", in part because it's the time of year when people of all ages go "back to school". When I teach, I operate under the premise that people are there to learn, to explore, to discover. What I've finally realized, is how many people come to yoga not so much to learn, but to be entertained. As yoga has become more mainstream, its purpose has been misappropriated by "popular culture". Like most things American or Americanized, we take what we like from a culture, an art, a science and leave what seems non-essential. In Americanizing "yoga" we're turned it from psychospiritual practice to exercise to entertainment. We've also made it goal- and achievement-oriented, rather than allowing it be an exploration of pure process.
             What does this have to do with beginner's mind? A great Zen master, Shunryu Suzuki famously said "In the mind of the expert the possibilities are very limited, but in the mind of the beginner, the possibilities are endless." Everyone arrives on the yoga mat with a desire or a need to tend to, whether it's to loosen the hips, become spiritually enlightened or establish hormonal balance and emotional equilibrium in a world out-of-whack. It's when those desires, or needs become expectations we begin to lose the thread of yoga and it becomes something else. When we orient toward expectation we fail to see the world of possibility that exists all around us. There are almost always other perspectives, other choices available to us at all times... if only we could remember to see them.
             In most schools of Buddhism and many if not most schools of yoga, even the concept of "desire" is shunned. In some translations of Buddha dharma, suffering is said to exist because we desire. In yoga we're told the root of suffering is out attachment. I propose the truth is somewhere in between: That desire itself is not a problem, but the attachment to it is. My suggestion is that we hold our desires loosely, without allowing the expectation to build. From the very start of our practice, at the moment we bring the hands together in Anjali mudra to honor our essential, unchanging Self and the very desire that brings us to the mat, can we be content even with just this much, without expectation for something more grand, more sensational, more "meaningful"? Can we find richness in the mundane moments of life? Can we learn to appreciate the subtle ebb and flow of moment to moment breathing-living-being, instead of clutching at our lives with greedy fingers? Can we find some freedom from the tyranny of needing to be any different in order to be truly happy? Cultivating beginner's mind brings us one step closer to that acceptance, happiness, and fulfilment. Even if our bottom-line desire that brings us to the mat again and again is simply a physical release of tension or flexibility or core strength, cultivating beginner's mind will help us get there more gracefully, and with greater ease. If we can let go of expectation, even just marginally, we loosen the grip of duffering just a bit, and in my book, no amount of reduction of suffering is too little.
             Shunryu Suzuki has another saying that I really dig that relates to this little "lesson" (if I dare call it that): You are, each one of you, absolutely perfect.. and you could use a little improvement. Accepting ourselves radically doesn't mean letting ourselves off the hook from doing the difficult tasks, but "a little self improvement" also doesn't mean there is anything wrong with us. So the next time you arrive in your practice--whatever it might be--remember... If your worldview is so distorted, so jaded you can't see possibilities all around you, you may need a new prescription to help you see a little more clearly. Yoga is that prescription for clear seeing. Whatever entertainment or exercise it might also be is merely icing.

. . . . . . .

The Space Between Words

Let's get this straight right from the get-go. I am opinionated, stubborn, downright intractable at times, and frequently impatient. While I've been on this "path of transformation" for many years, and have devoted large volumes of time and energy to learning everything I can about yoga and meditation, and I think I do a pretty good job of presenting it to others, it's very possible I could be completely full of it. But then it's also possible that I have learned a few things, and actually do know a few things. And let's be honest... I was called to yoga about 13 years ago as a means of escape, not a means of discovery. Oh, sure, I'd been on the path of the seeker for a long time already. Since I was a child, I was inclined to mysticism, poetry and exploring the dark night of the soul. But really, I came to yoga out of desperation. I didn't want to FIND myself. I wanted to get lost. I was utterly sick of myself, sick of my life and many of the people in it, and tired of chasing my tail in circles. I desperately needed for things to be different. All my life I had been raging against the world because I couldn't get what I wanted from it. And I was tired of the trials. Tired of my history. Tired of being defined by my past--a past full of abuse, neglect, and terrible psychological and physical pain. I'd been gutting it out, toughing it out for so long I could no longer feel myself. I wanted to be numb.
                  I took my first yoga class because some friends insisted I'd love it and I wound up falling in love with the teacher. She was tall, beautiful, and smiled a lot. She had a huge, generous laugh, an amazing body, and she was, without a doubt, one of the most optimistic people I have ever met. She always looked on the bright side. She was my psychological opposite, in every way. By her guidance I learned how to breathe and move with purpose, and to relax. That's what kept me going... I hadn't realized how stressed out I was. She had a voice that was hypnotic, serene and soothing. I loved listening to her voice more than anything. Gradually, I realized I was changing. I wasn't so agitated, uncomfortable or off-balance anymore, physically or mentally. She didn't even say much, but I found a refuge in the space between words.
                  I love words. Love language. I'm fascinated by things like the Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis. I really do believe that I can choose my reality, and that my thoughts and the language in which I speak to myself and others supports (or discourages, depending) that creation. For years I tried to be careful in my teaching to only say soft words. Words without edges. Spiritual, yogic words. But I felt a little fraudulent, phony, like I was trying to be someone I wasn't. I absolutely knew intuitively that the path of yoga was what I wanted to devote my energy to. Since I was a child, I had wanted to find a purpose in the world, a greater purpose than just satisfying whatever passing need or desire arose in me. And in all my studies, I kept bumping into this instruction that yoga can only be lived through direct experience, with authenticity. So if I was busy trying to be someone I wasn't then WHO was I?
                    I am pleased to say the days of trying to be someone I'm not are over. I'm no spiritual guru. I enjoy the spotlight too much. But at least I'm honest about it. That's a lot more than you'll get from some teachers. I will tell you what I know from my perspective. It may work for you, it may not. Sometimes I speak softly, and other times my choice of words are edgy, raw, gutteral. I use "strong language" to make my point sometimes. And when I get pissed off you'll know it. I'm no longer interested in appearing to be serene, calm, "yogic". I'm much more interested in being real. And for me that means being human. A Velveteen Human, perhaps, but still... This means there are times when calmness and serenity are exactly the ticket, and there are other times when I am alive with conflict and a fiery energy. Between this yin and yang, there is a place of acceptance that can't be taught. As I learned from Beth so long ago, this space can only be held for others, it cannot be "taught". Each of us need find it for ourselves. It's not out there... It's already within each of us.
                    What I have to say is nothing personal. It's all been said a thousand times over, and probably better, by others before me. I'm just attempting to put this human experience into words in a way that (maybe) helps someone else find space between them, whether you are in my class, or here in this cyberspace with me. If my words support you in your search, great. My purpose is simply to put the words out there for you to lean into, to rest on, and to fuel your journey. I leave the rest to the mystery.

. . . . . . .
                    In the silence between words, between concepts and ideas, find yourself. In this post alone, there are 1,009 words. Which means there are at least that many spaces.That's a lot of space in which to get lost--or found. Whatever you need. If you'll excuse me now, I am going to spend some time in my own silence, between thoughts and ideas, where there's enough space for my yin/yang self... I'll meet you there.