May 24, 2012

Yoga and cardio: Can you really change your genetic destiny?

Posted by YogaSpy under aging, attitude, body, change, diet, health, home practice, Iyengar, life, yoga | Tags: , , |
[5] Comments 

In January my friend Louise, a writing teacher, environmental activist, and yoga practitioner, had a small heart attack. Around the same time, I heard that one of Canada’s senior-most Iyengar yoga teachers had an aortic dissection. It struck me that two females and lifelong yogis, have heart disease.

It made me wonder about the value of aerobic exercise, also called ”cardio” and touted to prevent heart trouble.

Do you do cardio?

Casual yoga students typically do other sporty activities, such as running, swimming, and cycling. In fact, they often view asana as complementary to their main sport. But what about serious yogis who practice two or three hours daily? If yoga is your first priority, do you also make time for sweaty, heart-pumping exercise? No matter how strenuous a yoga sequence after all, it’s unlikely to bring on your target heart rate.

Does it matter?

When I first met Louise, suntanned, lanky, and lean as a greyhound, dressed in rustic flowing skirts and Birkenstocks, she looked 100% Berkeley, if you know what I mean. In her early 70s, she’s always watched her diet, walked long distances, done qigong and yoga, and lived healthfully. But heart disease runs in her family. She wrote to her email list:

I guess the one thing I could not transform is ancestry; now I realize that both grandfathers, my dad and five uncles all had heart disease. My youngest uncle, still very active at 89 with a stent and double by-pass surgery behind him—called when he heard the news—welcoming me to “the family tradition.”

Medical experts acknowledge that lifestyle habits, including cardio, make a difference only to a point. Those who eat Big Macs, smoke cigarettes, and drive everywhere would certainly benefit from a lifestyle overhaul. But in Louise’s case, more exercise probably wouldn’t have overridden her genetic predisposition for heart disease.

Does it matter that it might not matter?

Before I discovered yoga, I “worked out.” I’ve gone through phases of running the Berkeley Fire Trail,  doing the Stairmaster, swimming laps, lifting weights at the gym. (Nowadays yoga monopolizes my time, so I just do cardio machines and walk everywhere.)

I like to work out. I like the rise and fall in heart rate and body  temperature. I like the way my breathing automatically finds a rhythm. A workout (and a good asana sequence) has an arc from beginning to end, like a Bell curve. Maybe that’s why I found Bikram yoga strange: To enter a 105°F room and immediately sweat?

A good workout can be solace, escape, solitude. Way back when, a guy I knew called his workouts “penance.” I suspect that many people need a visceral physical outlet to feel satisfyingly transformed. Maybe that’s why asana typically resonates with people first, before pranayama or meditation or reading philosophy. Likewise, maybe that’s why a challenging asana session is so exhilarating. By experiencing physical catharsis, people feel ready for and worthy of more-profound transformation.

Four months after her heart attack, Louise found healing in exercise:

The greatest healing tool for me, though, is rigorous daily walking and a little work with weights. Though thinking of myself as “athletic” all my life, my actual exercise has been more and more intermittent. Now I often feel like I did in my 20s when I was ski-racing or mountaineering on the weekends and walking all over Berkeley with ease during the week. Intensional [sic] working out strengthens and clears the arteries and I’ve started to create some visualizations to help it happen.

Who knows how much we can alter our genetic destiny, but it can’t hurt to try.

Image: Asics GT 2160 (my current shoe); Kitsilano Pool, Vancouver, BC (Canada’s longest pool, 137 meters/150 yards)

 

May 10, 2012

Did Seacret work for me? You bet! Well…

Posted by YogaSpy under blogging, ethics, karma yoga, yoga blogs
[2] Comments 

A post I wrote last August, Was I suckered by the Seacret saleslady?, is my biggest hit: highest average click rate and longest shelf life. Clearly, my experience with Seacret’s aggressive sales pitch (and apparently with the allure of satiny smooth cuticles) resonated with people worldwide. Even those who have never heard of Seacret can empathize with buyer’s remorse and second guessing.

Whenever I check my “Site Stats,” this post ranks in the top five. Thanks, Seacret, for boosting my daily numbers!

One commentator introduced an idea I hadn’t expected: Reynold urged others not to buy Seacret products because they’re made by an Israeli company using Palestinian resources (Dead Sea salts): “I implore you, join the BDS movement against Israeli apartheid. Don’t buy Israeli products. See http://www.bdsmovement.net/.” Likewise, a yoga classmate of mine recommends not buying Naot shoes; she’s Jewish but opposes Israel’s stance toward the Palestinians.

I considered my typical consumer behavior: I try not to buy things made in China. Besides taking a mild (okay, armchair) political stance, I’m also avoiding the often-mediocre quality of China-made items. But what about my MacBook Air? I had no qualms buying that (granted, all computers are made in China, right?). What about the mutual funds I invest in? If I glance at the portfolios, I see investments in companies such as Exxon and Walmart.

Does (and can) anyone really have clean hands as a consumer?

It makes no sense to feel noble about avoiding those China-grown snap peas (the only option in Vancouver) and China-made yoga pants (no thanks, lululemon) when I invest in questionable companies on a larger scale. Besides, who’s to say that the actual producers (Seacret, Naot, Chinese snap pea farmers) are evil? Aren’t we blaming individuals for the sins of political leaders?

So, when I notice this post still making the rounds, I think also about Reynold’s comment—and about our roles as consumers.

Are you wondering whether those Seacret products worked for me? The cuticle oil was less greasy-messy than I’d expected and temporarily smoothed my cuticles. The buffer? I haven’t gotten around to using it!

Images: cuticle oil, Seacret; shoe, Naot; snap peas, Wikipedia

 

May 9, 2012

One man’s transformation

Posted by YogaSpy under aging, attitude, balance, body, change, health, home practice, inspiring people, life, marketing yoga, teachers, video teaching, yoga | Tags: , |
[4] Comments 

To anyone who’s “given up,” check out Arthur Boorman’s transformation. Arthur is a living testimonial for a pro-wrestler-turned-yoga-trainer named Diamond Dallas Page. Yes, it sounds like hype. And Iyengar yoga teachers would be aghast at Arthur’s freewheeling attempts at asana while obese and non-ambulatory. But look at the results. Attitude matters, not just in students but in teachers, too.

If you’re a yoga teacher, how would you have reacted if 300-pound Arthur, dependent on canes to walk, showed up at your class?

 

May 3, 2012

Simplify, simplify, and get rid of unnecessary stuff

Posted by YogaSpy under aparigraha, home, life
[10] Comments 

Glancing through my computer files in March, I couldn’t find my Lonely Planet archive folder. I looked everywhere. It was gone.

That folder contained files from LP books I’ve written since 2005. While I lost nothing urgently necessary (or necessary at all, really), it was disconcerting to lose so many documents, so much history. What if I ever need that stuff?

Well, chances are, I won’t. I keep tons of unnecessary things: Clothes and shoes I never wear. Photocopies, old bills, and other paper clutter. My old iMac and iBook (no time to wipe out the hard drives for computer recycling). Broken or obsolete digital cameras and cell phones. Perhaps my Honda belongs on the list. Last year I drove only about 700 miles, opting to get around Vancouver by bus. My car battery has died twice since November due to insufficient use! But don’t I need a car in case of emergency? How else can I rush Momo or Sly to the animal ER? What about airport runs and shopping trips for dog food and toilet paper? And don’t forget the road trips I’ll take when I have more free time (yeah, right). It’s hard to give up a possession that’s become a given in my life.

But what is truly essential?

The same day that I noticed my missing Lonely Planet archives, I chanced upon “Japan, one year after the tsunami” in a Maclean’s magazine lying around at Vancouver Honda. (I was servicing my car after the most-recent battery drain.) I read about 60-year-old Katsuhiko Endo, a former oyster fisherman who lost his home, livelihood, and entire hometown (his family was spared) after the tsunami:

… He has nothing from his earlier life. “I used to love Burberry,” he says. “I had Burberry socks, Burberry belts, Burberry shoes, even Burberry underwear.” … A thoughtful man, he smiles sheepishly: “I cared about luxury.”

Unless we lose everything, it’s easy to be swayed by things, not only extravagances but stuff we simply do not need.

 

April 26, 2012

Bloom where you’re planted?

Posted by YogaSpy under attitude, change, home, life | Tags: , , |
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Hilo rains are unpredictable. So my parents and I took advantage of a sunny day and headed toward Volcano. Before reaching Hawai‘i Volcanoes National Park, we stopped at my dad’s farm lot, a lifetime “project” that stocked our household with bananas, pineapples, jaboticaba, and much more. We then visited a sightseeing attraction among Japanese tourists, Akatsuka Orchids since my dad knows Moriyasu Akatsuka, who founded the company in the 1970s and grows gorgeous orchids for sale worldwide.

I read this sign near a display. It brought to mind the potted orchids I see in random garden shops and corner grocers. Most of low-priced commercial plants come from Thailand. In Vancouver a blooming phalaenopsis spray can be yours for $20-25.

To a potted orchid, Vancouver has extremely low humidity. In winter, indoor heating counters outdoor mist and drizzle. In summer, days are long, brilliant, and dry. I imagined legions of orchids in air-conditioned office buildings, Kitsilano mansions, and yoga studios.

How do these plants fare? Can they thrive away from their ideal climate?

Imagine if someone plucked you away from your preferred home because they liked the way you look? Could you live anywhere and be happy enough? Could you bloom where you’re planted?

I’m reminded of this passage in The Moon and Sixpence by Somerset Maugham:

I have an idea that some men are born out of their due place. Accident has cast them amid certain surroundings, but they have always a nostalgia for a home they know not…. They may spend their whole lives aliens among their kindred and remain aloof among the only scenes they have ever known. Perhaps it is this sense of strangeness that sends men far and wide in the search for something permanent, to which they may attach themselves… Sometimes a man hits upon a place to which he mysteriously feels that he belongs. Here is the home he sought, and he will settle amid scenes that he has never seen before, among men he has never known, as though they were familiar to him from his birth. Here at last he finds rest.

Here’s a shot of the entrance to my dad’s farm lot. He is definitely a man born in his due place.

 

April 25, 2012

My love-hate relationship with structure

Posted by YogaSpy under health, home, home practice, life | Tags: , , , , |
[2] Comments 

In early April, I visited my parents in Hawai‘i for a week. Ah, fresh Kapoho Solo papaya, my childhood bedroom, backyard orchids, pouring rain. (I love the drumbeat of raindrops at night.) I brought my computer and two books, but ended up doing only essential work and asana. Instead I switched to Hilo mode vis a vis my parents.

One predictable thing at home is “the news”: In the morning they read the local dailies, Hilo’s Hawaii Tribune-Herald and the statewide Honolulu Star-Advertiser. Before they go to bed (and sometimes at dinner time), they watch local TV news.

Don’t get me wrong, they lead active lives and aren’t rigid in their routine. They go with the flow. But traditional newspapers and on-air broadcasts cultivate a certain consistency. They have an iMac and their home page is Google News, but they never spend hours online. They enjoy their local sources and household rituals.

On one hand, I couldn’t live without the freedom of Internet information. On the other, I appreciate the limits of “print edition” and the six o’ clock news. With old media I can’t fritter away 45 minutes online in the name of research. I couldn’t have clicked that headline about John Edwards’s latest humiliation or that link to Paul McCartney’s “My Valentine” videos featuring Johnny Depp and Natalie Portman doing sign language. I mean, seriously? Is this stuff I needed to see?

In Hilo, I slept early, before 11pm . In Hawai‘i there are three 30-minute evening news broadcasts: 9pm, 9:30pm, and 10pm. We’d watch any of them, perhaps simultaneously reading and changing channels midstream. Only in Hawaii, I thought, observing the multi-ethnic anchors, aloha shirts, kama‘aina humor, island weather reports (below 70 degrees is considered cold).

Sometimes I find more freedom with structure. With limitless access to information, I never feel “done.” There’s always more to read and to know. With a single paper or broadcast, I’m done in 30 minutes! Sure, the information is limited and edited, but I suddenly have more time.

As a freelance writer/editor/yoga teacher, I love my autonomy. I cannot imagine working at an office, Monday to Friday. That said, I function better with some structure: within agreeable boundaries and rules, I find freedom. So I appreciated the way “the news” segmented my parents’ and my days and especially how the evening news signaled bedtime (since I’ve so far failed in my resolution to get more sleep).

Images: Home backyard; local papers during Merrie Monarch Festival week, 2012.

 

April 6, 2012

Good Morning Starshine? Desperado? What’s “your” song?

Posted by YogaSpy under Iyengar, Iyengar assessment, Iyengar certification, teacher training, yoga | Tags: , , , |
1 Comment 

My yoga friend Helen, a pianist, recently mentioned the work of Don Greene, a well-known sports psychologist and performance coach. Skimming his writings, I found the following tip for “centering” before performing:

Conjure up a “process cue”: words, images, sounds, or sensations associated with successful performance.

This could be a phrase like “good tempo,” a positive memory, a song. He says that music is very effective. It conjures up a mood, a setting; it can psych you up or calm you down.

A song? In February I took my Intro I assessment toward Iyengar certification. (Intro I is akin to a qualifying exam; if you pass, you can proceed to Intro II assessment for the first level of certification.) Driving to the early morning practice segment, I was absentmindedly listening to CBC Radio when the host played “Good Morning Starshine”:

Good morning starshine
The earth says hello
You twinkle above us
We twinkle below

Good morning starshine
You lead us along
My love and me as we sing
Our early morning singing song

Now, I’ve never seen the musical Hair. I’m neither a ’60s flower child nor a nouveau hippie wanna-be. But who hasn’t heard this song? I can’t recall if it was the original or a cover, but I recognized the melody and lyrics. They were perfect at that moment.

“Good Morning Starshine” played in my head all day. When I rode the bus back to the studio for my afternoon teaching segment, guess what I heard in my mental soundtrack? For some reason, the song made me feel lighthearted on a very consequential day. For a week after the assessment (which I passed!), I couldn’t shake off this tune.

I’d probably pick another song if I were deliberately to choose a musical “process cue.” But this accidental one worked just fine.

What is your go-to song?

 

April 2, 2012

No comments?! Blogging as karma yoga

Posted by YogaSpy under attitude, blogging, Iyengar, karma yoga, life, yoga | Tags: |
[13] Comments 

I don’t get it. Why do some blogs generate dozens of comments (and shares and likes), while others sit pristine like wallflowers?

Bloggers can check click rates to see if anyone’s reading. But what if people are reading but not commenting? What does that mean?

And why should I care?

Before I launched my blog in 2009, I’d never read yoga blogs, as I discussed in The Wide World of Yoga Blogs.  I just wanted to organize my free-floating thoughts about yoga. I was curious to see if I could sustain my stream of thoughts or if the well would run dry.

Once I became a blogger, I got sucked into the milieu. I skim the gamut of blogs: food, travel, writing, knitting (and I can’t knit!). Blogging is unlike old print media in the expectation of audience response: Before, the lag time between publication and response was long (think “letters to the editor”). Now, instant feedback rules—and any feedback is better than none!

So, if a post generates zero comments, it disheartens me. Momentarily. Then I remind myself why I blog:

Blogging as writing practice

By blogging, I am “practicing” writing. By crystallizing an idea and playing with words, I am working my mind. I end up with a tangible product, a blog post. Regardless of audience feedback, the act of writing itself is transformative. I am different before and after writing a post. Maybe that’s enough.

I’m reminded of the way people might consider law school to be process learning: one supposedly learns to “think like a lawyer.” Laws differ state by state, but a lawyer’s analytical skills ideally should be transferable. Likewise, my blog posts themselves might have limited consequences, but my mental transformation should be lasting.

Blogging as discipline

In my first six months of blogging, I was prolific. Now, I feel productive if I post once weekly. Where’s my discipline?! In Resurrecting my blog: inspiration from a cactus, I wrote about my blog’s slowdown. Could it thrive and grow again? Or do bloggers have only one shot at making it?

It can be hard to be disciplined about an unpaid blog. Maybe that’s the crux of discipline. If we’re forced to do something, for work or other obligations, we’re not being disciplined, just diligent.

Blogging as community

At first, my audience comprised mainly fellow yoga bloggers, including YogaDork, Roseanne, Eco Yogini, and others mentioned in Peer-reviewed blogs. Locally I heard from fellow writers, including Eve Johnson and Jessica Berger Gross, both excellent writers. Non-blogger yogis tend rarely to comment. They might email me about a post (I’m heartened by the gesture of camaraderie) but my blog would be much livelier with public comments, shares, and likes!

Of course, I can empathize with those who are private and busy with their own lives. Indeed, I’ve never considered yoga as a social pursuit. Online, while I initially made connections with other bloggers, I’ve since lost contact (and sometimes my place on their blogrolls) because I can barely keep afloat in my own life and thus rarely comment myself. But I enjoy checking back when I can—and I’d be disappointed if their blogs were gone.

Blogging as 21st-century experience

I occasionally meet people who still don’t use email. Or who can’t quite define “blog.” Unbelievable. But I can relate: I much prefer reading the print edition of the New York Times! I use my cell phone only when necessary. I created a Yoga Spy Facebook account, reluctantly, as late as spring 2011.

That said, the Internet is indispensable to my existence. Websites are my go-to sources for information, and if I have the chance to create my own, why not go for it? Live in the 21st century. Be a participant. (In the 2000s, I missed the entire run of The Sopranos because I didn’t have HBO. Sure, it’s just a TV series, but I’m missing a slice of that decade. What else did I miss? What am I missing from this decade?)

Blogging as karma yoga

Regardless of audience feedback, I keep blogging. Why? In my all-time favorite post, Ginger and karma yoga, I highlight my late kitty’s example of karma yoga: To do one’s duties, or dharma, in life, without concern for reward. If I choose blogging as a current duty, I shouldn’t waste time questioning why, much less whether anyone cares. Just do it!

Image: wallflowers, apartment therapy; Alex Gregory cartoon, The New Yorker, The Cartoon Bank

 

March 26, 2012

So many books, so little time

Posted by YogaSpy under books, celebrity teachers, home practice, Iyengar, life, mentors, north american trends, teachers, yoga | Tags: , , |
1 Comment 

Vancouver’s indie Book Warehouse is closing its West Broadway location (sigh). All stock is discounted 25%. I was tempted by 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die*, a 960-page reference edited by Peter Boxall, English professor, University of Sussex. But the sheer number put me off.

It’s probably impossible to read all 1,001 selections, but I crunched the numbers anyway. If I read 25 books a year, it would take 40 years. If I rack up a staggering 50 books a year, it would take 20 years. Actually, popular blogger Steve Pavlina made a compelling argument for this very goal, Read a Book a Week.

A book a month is already challenging. A book a week? What a feat!

Is that a worthy goal? My literary knowledge would be broad and varied. I could make smalltalk about virtually every notable writer. But speed reading is not my thing. I prefer to savor good fiction. Plus I need “digesting time” after finishing a book.

To read selected works by hundreds of authors also runs counter to another half-baked goal of mine: to read every work by a chosen writer. Reading one author’s entire body of work would narrow, but deepen, my knowledge. I’d become somewhat of an expert on that author. I’d have a “relationship” with that author.

So many yoga teachers, so little time

I’m reminded of a yoga friend’s recent remark about attending workshops with visiting teachers. She skipped the last workshop with senior Iyengar teacher Gabriella Giubilaro because she plans to attend other workshops this year. “They’re all good,” she said, “but how many teachers do I need to study with anyway?”

I agree that too many workshops can lead to information overload. If I need to digest a book, I likewise must assimilate lessons from a workshop. That means repeating the poses, sequences, and ideas—and that takes time.

Of course, it’s hard to resist the draw of an established teacher. Sometimes I already know that the teaching resonates with me. Other times, I’m just curious, based on the teacher’s writing or reputation. Exposure to another face/body/voice can jolt me to attention, and I enjoy the multi-day immersion.

Famous teachers have no trouble filling up their on-the-road workshops. After all, it’s become de rigueur to study with lots of big-name teachers. Teacher bios sometimes border on the absurd, as I wrote about in Naming names.

But there’s a big difference between attending 25 workshops with 25 different teachers and 25 with the same teacher. Can I truly understand a teacher’s teachings in one or two encounters? Do his or her teachings stand the test of time?

Both variety and continuity are valuable. We must experience broadly, otherwise we have no context, only tunnel vision. But eventually, delving deeply, with authors and with yoga teachers, might take us further.

All that said, I’m still eyeing 1001 Books…

Image: Gingerbread yogis, Randomization (cookies and cookie cutters from Baked Ideas)

*This book is part of a 1001 Before You Die series.

 

March 16, 2012

Anger management 101

Posted by YogaSpy under ahimsa, attitude, health, life, relationships, yamas | Tags: , |
[13] Comments 

Outside my yoga life, I’m a writer and editor. Recently, as managing editor of a top peer-reviewed journal on urban planning, I observed a professor’s angry reaction to negative reviews. Actually, she was lucky. The editor didn’t reject her manuscript but gave her the option to “revise and resubmit.”

But, almost immediately after receiving her decision letter, she asked us to withdraw the paper, adding exasperated remarks about the reviewers’ misguided opinions.

In academic publishing, it’s rare to pull a paper that’s still viable. She was obviously acting emotionally.

In day-to-day life, I witness miscellaneous bursts of anger: Impatient diners at restaurants. Couples arguing. Kids throwing tantrums. Road rage in traffic.

When I see an outburst, I cringe at how unbecoming, how uncool, it is. That’s because I recall the times when I myself have absolutely lost it (and it’s happened more often than I want to admit).

While it’s good to stand up for your rights, emotional anger is usually counterproductive. When I see red and express pure rage, what’s my goal anyway? I want others to feel my rage’s power. But ironically it’s me who suffers much more than my “victims.”

If that professor had stopped, taken a breath, slept on it perhaps, and calmly read the decision letter and reviews, she would have realized the value of that feedback. If she’d followed through and revised her paper, she’d have ended up with a stronger piece of work. That’s the benefit of constructive criticism.

Around the same time, I received an email from my sister. My parents had just left town after a two weeks’ visit, helping out with my five-year-old niece, adorable but volatile. “She loves to be with Tali so much and never gets mad at her, even when sheʻs acting up and defiant,” my sister wrote. “Mom NEVER gets mad; itʻs really quite amazing. The more I see it, I think about how she was when we were growing up.”

I have never seen my mom truly angry. I’m not exaggerating. She might get annoyed with others, but her “complaints” have a good-natured tone. Growing up, my mom, an elementary school teacher, was always the “nice” one among her colleagues. She was kind and generous, never one to make a scene, or compete for recognition, or get angry. While I appreciated her composure, I also considered niceness rather weak and submissive. Maybe in Hilo, Hawaii, being nice works, but what about on the mainland? I had ambitions. In the real world, didn’t I need a tougher shell? Wasn’t it better to show anger than to hide behind a smile?

Indeed, people on the mainland—in cities larger than my home state; in college, in law school, and beyond—were tougher, sharper, louder, worldlier, and often angrier than those I grew up with. Maybe anger can sometimes be channeled to push through obstacles.

But nowadays when I witness anger (especially in high achievers), I consider my mom’s lack of anger. A PhD and prestigious academic career are worthy achievements. But my mom’s natural composure and, yes, niceness, are much rarer qualities to possess.

Image: Homer Simpson, Bleacher Nation; Original Smiley Face, Harvey Ball World Smile Foundation

 

March 1, 2012

Breaking news in the yoga world

Posted by YogaSpy under Anusara, attitude, blogging, body, brahmacharya, celebrity teachers, change, ethics, hatha yoga, health, life, mentors, public image, teachers, yoga, yoga blogs | Tags: , , , , |
[11] Comments 

Big press and little press

Fast becoming the muckraker of yoga, William Broad has written another controversial New York Times article: “Yoga and Sex Scandals: No Surprise Here” (February 27, 2012) posits that it’s no surprise that yoga produces “so many philanderers”—and that “scientific” research shows heightened sexual response from hatha yoga. (See responses from it’s all yoga, baby, YogaDork, and Leslie Kaminoff.)

The same day that article was published, I read a few back issues of the Iyengar Yoga Centre of Victoria newsletter that I’d recently acquired. A slim, homemade-looking pamphlet back then, the newsletter impressed me with timeless content, including exclusive interviews with BKS Iyengar and wise essays by Shirley Daventry French.

Prashant Iyengar on yogasana’s effects

The July/August 1997 issue contained a piece by Prashant Iyengar on how yogasana affects not only one’s physical state, but also one’s psychological and physiological states (and beyond). He gives an example using brahmacharya, explaining that one might avoid overindulgence but that “[i]nvoluntary desires may be tainting us from within.” If trying to follow an moral code, asana can help calm the pineal and pituitary glands, thus “quieting the physiology behind sex.”

In Iyengar yoga, poses affect our bodies and minds in particular ways. We can either rev up or tamp down our energy, including sexual energy. This differs from Broad’s generalization that yoga primarily enhances sexual desire.

Further, Broad implies that doing random yoga classes can markedly affect our physiology. Change does not come easily. It’s tough enough to loosen tight muscles, much less change the workings of inner organs. Would Viagra be a zillion-dollar industry if a round of deep breathing cured sexual dysfunction?

In contrast, Prashant states that asanas must be “done with a sensitive diligence, to experience their depth.” What an understatement!

Power of the pen

Reading Prashant’s and Broad’s articles on the same day, I was struck by the difference between a yogi’s perspective and a journalist’s. I admit that I somewhat empathize with Broad because I, too, am a journalist. On one hand, I believe that a good investigative journalist can do justice to any subject, regardless of personal expertise. On the other, it’s exasperating to read a non-yogi’s statements on yoga.

Actually Broad took up yoga in 1970 (!). But listen to this February 8 CBC radio interview, in which he admits that he sustained his first yoga injury in 2007 in an “advanced” class:

“…. There were a lot of beautiful ladies around, stretching and bending themselves into all kinds of great shapes. I had a gorgeous partner with me. And I was, you know, feeling pretty good. I was strutting. I was talking to her. I was bending way over, and—ouch!—my lower back went out….

What the—?

Don’t get me wrong. Watching his February 9 video interview with Roseanne Harvey, Broad comes across as likable enough. I’d argue against some of his conclusions, but he probably means well—and, as a journalist, he needs catchy hooks for his articles. But why is he becoming the yoga source?

The Times and other mass media have a huge footprint. The Victoria newsletter and scads of blogs, even well-trafficked ones, have a limited audience. Alas.

On choosing well

I haven’t even touched on the John Friend revelations. But my conclusion regarding mainstream yoga coverage applies to my thoughts on his behavior (and especially on the behavior of his followers):

Are you choosing well? This goes for yoga teachers and trusted allies, reading matter and beliefs, thoughts and actions.

There’s a sea of choices out there. It’s up to us to choose well.

Images: newspapers, Apartment Therapy; Vitruvian Man, Wikipedia; Pololu Valley, Hawaii, YogaSpy.

 

February 17, 2012

The challenge to my intelligence

Posted by YogaSpy under attitude, body, books, change, classes, Iyengar, life, studios, teachers, yoga | Tags: , , , , , |
[3] Comments 

Years ago I discovered Lydia Davis‘s fragmentary short stories. While extremely brief and lacking standard beginning-middle-end structure, they were strangely compelling. Recently I was reminded of her: the title of my last post, “The End of the Story,” is the title of her only novel. For fun I Googled her name and found an interesting 2008 interview in The Believer.

When asked about how Samuel Beckett‘s writing influenced her, she responded:

I came to Beckett very early on and was startled by his pared-down style. As I practiced writing (in my early twenties), I actively studied his way of putting sentences together. I copied out favorite sentences of his. What I liked was the plain, Anglo-Saxon vocabulary; the intelligence; the challenge to my intelligence; the humor that undercut what might have been a heavy message; and the self-consciousness about language.

I added the underline to the words that leaped out at me.

Yoga teachers who challenge my intelligence

While we universally respect another person’s intelligence, Davis offers the reason why: If challenged by another’s intelligence, we tend to push our limits and rise to the occasion. We become more intelligent by way of another’s intelligence.

That’s why I do Iyengar yoga with teachers who make me think. While Iyengar yoga definitely has a “feel good” effect, it requires effort. In class one cannot drift off and casually go through the motions. Instead one must constantly pay close attention to the body from head to toe—to train the mind toward stillness. BKS Iyengar often refers to body intelligence, which he differentiates from body language, as he did in a 1998 interview with Gabriella Giubilaro.

I’ve occasionally dropped in on random yoga classes where teachers give minimal instructions and no corrections. The emphasis is on ease and fun. One Vancouver yin yoga teacher often says, “If you’re feeling it, you’re doing it.” But can an anything-goes attitude lead to intelligence?

Intelligence and imagination

Among the teachers who challenge my intelligence is Berkeley-based Donald Moyer. Known for his deep teaching, he guides students anatomically, physiologically, mentally, and philosophically, using precise words and metaphors. For example, he might teach poses via the kidneys. “Lengthen the kidneys down, toward the thoracic spine,” he might say in Uttanasana. “Rest the lower kidneys against the ribs, and penetrate the upper kidneys deep into the body.”

Huh? His instructions can be difficult, even abstruse to the uninitiated. Daydream for a moment and you’re lost, trying to identify body parts and to perform multiple actions.

Sometimes a student will say, “That’s impossible. The kidneys are organs. You can’t move them!”

True. We cannot literally move the kidneys as we do our arms and legs. But Donald guides the intelligence through the imagination. By attempting to move the kidneys, we move the surrounding muscles and bones subtly, from the inner body.

Sometimes we must move beyond the literal—in literature and in asana. I rarely read poetry, but I’m reminded of it here. If a poem mentions a blue rose, one could argue that there’s no such thing. But then one is stuck in the prosaic.

With intelligent teachers who challenge us, we go beyond ease and fun and the obvious—and toward our own intelligence.

Image: Genetically modified “blue” rose developed by Suntory, Wired; Uttanasana, Yoga Journal

 

February 2, 2012

The end of the story

Posted by YogaSpy under attitude, change, Iyengar, karma yoga, life, yoga | Tags: , , , |
[3] Comments 

The other day, waiting at a bus stop, I noticed a well-dressed man racing to catch his bus. The last passenger was already boarding, and drivers are notorious for zooming off. A few onlookers turned to see whether he caught it. (He did.)

That’s human nature, I thought to myself: We want to know what happened.

If I get halfway through a disappointing book or dud movie, I often forge through to the end, for closure. If I hear an anecdote, I’m especially curious to know the end result. Obituaries (or even, forgive me, the name-dropping New York Times Wedding/Celebrations page) can grab me because I am fascinated by the trajectory of people’s lives.

Way back in law school, I was already second-guessing my choice to become a lawyer. So I was all ears when someone told me a story about an acquaintance who left law and tried one alternate career after another. The story went on and on, until I finally had to interrupt, “So, what happened? Did he figure out what he really wants to do?”

“No, as far as I know, he’s still searching.”

Huh? What a letdown. I expected to hear that he’d finally found his element and was a renowned artist living in Tokyo or something. He was still lost and scattered?

Happy-ending guarantee

Back then, in my dark moods, I wished there could be a happy-ending guarantee. I could tolerate anything if I knew things would eventually pan out. While I’d long outgrown Disney, I still wanted a fairy tale.

But, really, what if an omnipotent power could guarantee that you’ll pass your boards or make partner? That you’ll live robustly till age 100 or have a good marriage? That you’ll one day do full Eka Pada Rajakapotasana I (or II, III, or IV) with ease. That you’ll pass every Iyengar certification assessment that you undertake?!

Would that make you happier today? Maybe. But it would also take the mystery out of life. And breed complacency. Besides, according to the sages, we shouldn’t aim for end results anyway. Rather, according to the Bhagavad Gita, we express karma yoga by doing our duties, or dharma, in life, without concern for reward.

So, maybe it doesn’t much matter whether the man caught the bus or whether the ex-lawyer established himself: That they were trying to do something might be the key.

Image: Disney castle, Favim.com; BKS Iyengar in Eka Pada Rajakapotasana I, Kat Saks Yoga

 

January 23, 2012

Yoga Journal (and yoga), then and now

Posted by YogaSpy under Anusara, celebrity teachers, health, Iyengar, life, marketing yoga, mentors, north american trends, public image, teachers, yoga | Tags: , , |
[19] Comments 

Last month I acquired a couple of Yoga Journal magazines from the late 1980s and early 1990s. What a revelation! I’m familiar with the magazine, having subscribed on and off (mostly on) since the late 1990s. But what a difference two decades can make.

So impressive were the back issues that I found limited archives online at Yoga Journal on Google Books. Here are my observations, albeit from a third-person point of view:

Personal transformation

Back then yoga was less about fitness and more about transforming one’s mindset. YJ readers were seeking a mind-blowing, life-changing experience. They wanted to uproot their whole way of being—away from convention and banality. Today, most yoga practitioners, even serious ones, aren’t trying to overhaul their lifestyles, but to reduce stress, to tone the body, to still the mind. Mainstream yoga is more popular now because it’s more approachable, less of a leap. Of course, true transformation remains as slippery as ever.

While yoga was the focus, there was ample coverage of other disciplines, including tai chi, aikido, Buddhism, Taoism, and psychology/psychiatry (particularly Jung-based exploration of the unconscious). The common thread was profound awakening. As an Iyengar practitioner, I noticed that Iyengar yoga was prominent, probably partly because BKS Iyengar was still actively teaching worldwide.

Timeless writing

Feature articles back then were satisfyingly lengthy and thorough. Reading them forced me to think. The content remains valid and fascinating. I read interviews and profiles featuring genuine scholars such as Joseph Campbell, Joan Borysenko, Charles Tart, Emilie Conrad-Da’oud, Jean Klein, and Stanislav Grof, names new to me.

The asana teachings still ring true. What a treat to read Elise Browning Miller‘s primer on her specialty, scoliosis (May/Jun 1990), or Donald Moyer‘s inimitable insights on Marichyasana I (Nov/Dec 1987) and Salabhasana (Sep/Oct 1989). Perhaps the coverage is deep because the magazine was run by people such as Stephan Bodian, an editor in chief who is an ordained Zen monk and an Advaita Vedanta scholar.

Don’t get me wrong: I regard today’s YJ (especially the writings of Sally Kempton and Roger Cole) highly enough to subscribe. But it lacks its former gravitas. In 10 years will anyone care to read the September 2011 music issue’s mini interviews with Alanis or Moby or the guys from Maroon 5? (No offense.) Further, the book reviews were actually critical. Nowadays, unless you’re dealing with the New York Times and Ms Kakutani, scoring a review generally guarantees either praise or summary. What’s the point?!

Fringe element

Yoga wasn’t trendy and ubiquitous in the 1980s and prior. Practitioners and YJ readers (judging by the letters to the editor) possessed an exploratory, eccentric bent. With the Beat Generation and the revolutionary Sixties still driving American culture, yoga had a streak of radicalism. Today, it’s more rebellious not to do yoga than to do it!

The juxtaposition between serious study and the far-out fringe element quite amused me. Magazine ads offered futuristic contraptions to alter consciousness; an article bio might read, “… is a writer, ritualist, and hypnotherapist…” I’m not particularly New Agey myself and can’t help regarding ESP, channeling, astrology, etc, with skepticism. But the kooky dimensions don’t detract from the whole—rather, they only emphasize the era’s quest for alternate, higher consciousness, whatever the means.

That said, asana was also a highlight, classily illustrated in pictorial calendars and the occasional magazine cover (see Angela Farmer‘s silhouette above). But most covers featured a portrait of a leading thinker; only in the 2000s did the lithe female “cover model” become standard.

Yogic pioneers

Reading the old YJs was rather a humbling experience. Those who did yoga before the 1990s were pioneers. While we respectfully honor the giants, such as T Krishnamacharya and his successors, we must also acknowledge prior generations of less-famous (or anonymous) yogis. I consider myself a fairly serious student, but let’s face it: I’m a yoga child of the late 1990s and 2000s, swept up with the tide. Those pioneers were the real deal, and they trod a distinct path for us to follow.

Images from top to bottom: Nov/Dec 1988, Nov/Dec 1987, Apr 1982.

 

January 13, 2012

Tell me about pain, yours, and I will tell you mine

Posted by YogaSpy under asana, attitude, body, change, flexibility, health, Iyengar, life, muscles, north american trends, teachers, yoga | Tags: , , , , , |
[7] Comments 

I need not introduce How Yoga Can Wreck Your Body, the New York Times article that’s gone viral. My first response upon reading it: These anecdotes are outliers! Who sits in Vajrasana for hours daily, tears Achilles tendons in Downward Dog, or pops ribs in a spinal twist?!

My second response: No Iyengar yoga teacher would intentionally push students too hard, beyond safety. Salamba Sarvangasana without a stack of blankets under the shoulders? Unheard of! If a novice tries a headstand or an Upward Bow backbend before she’s ready, the teacher would immediately say, “Stop! Come down now!”

My third response: Uh, I’m sitting here with a strained piriformis (or something), probably from yoga. My body isn’t “wrecked,” but since taking my first yoga class over a dozen years ago, I’ve occasionally sustained asana-related injuries. Examples:

  • Overflexing my neck I’ve tweaked my cervical spine in Halasana and Salamba Sarvangasana, typically when pressing my chest too forcefully toward my chin. Lesson: Ground my elbows (and rest my ribcage in my palms) to lighten the weight on my neck. Cultivate a sense of repose in shoulderstand and its kin.
  • Unexplained knee pain after Virasana In early 2010, I felt pain in the back of my right knee after exiting Virasana. A doctor conjectured that my meniscus had micro tears and would heal by itself over time. Indeed, my MRI results were normal and the pain eventually subsided. Lesson: Work on stretching my quadriceps and gradually increase my Virasana hold time. Expect “mystery” conditions to appear now and then.
  • Strained hamstring attachments About four years ago, I practiced too much Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana and began to feel twinges at my sitting bones. I made the typical mistake of assuming I needed to stretch more. Suddenly forward bends weren’t easy and relaxing, but challenging and humbling. Lesson: Moderate and vary my practice to allow for recovery. Tone down rajasic energy. Accept change. (“Easy” and “hard” can suddenly reverse.)

That said, I blame my injuries on my own overzealousness and momentary attention lapses. Asana, no matter how strenuous, is not inherently risky. It’s not speed skiing or tow-in surfing! Asana is controlled movement in a controlled setting. Chances are, I could have prevented my injuries.

While the serious cases mentioned in the NYT article are inexcusable, occasional muscular strains are perhaps inherent in a vigorous asana practice. If I’d done only restorative yoga and never attempted to move beyond “level one,” I might be injury-free today. But isn’t yoga about exploring our perceived limits? If I do a pose and feel absolutely comfy, I’m probably merely going through the motions. I should feel strong sensation (which, by the way, isn’t synonymous with pain) during practice, but not after. And if I do injure myself, I must determine why—and learn from it.

Additional reading: Insight from Injury, Carol Krucoff, Yoga Journal

Image: Michael Fleming via the Lighthouse Keeper’s Cat

Note: Blog post title owes a debt to Mary Oliver‘s poem “Wild Geese.” from Dream Work (Atlantic Monthly Press, 1986)

 

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