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: |
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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: , , , , , |
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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)

 

January 3, 2012

Pranayama, sleep, and other New Year’s resolutions

Posted by YogaSpy under asana, health, home practice, pranayama, teachers, yoga | Tags: , , , , , , , |
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In the late 1990s, I took to yoga asana without a second thought. My body immediately loved it. I initially attended three to five classes weekly. My little apartment, with carpet and cat, wasn’t ideal for home practice, but I eventually appropriated a floor and wall space at the UC Berkeley rec center for my practice.

Pranayama is another animal. Stillness, physical or mental, is not second nature to me. I’ve attended classes and done some reading on pranayama over the years. But adding breath work to my current two-hour asana practice simply hasn’t happened.

The immaculate expanse of a New Year is nudging me to start. Actually it’s shouting at me. THE TIME IS NOW! DON’T WASTE ANOTHER YEAR!

I’ll need to refer to class notes and BKS Iyengar’s Light on Pranayama for a refresher on technique, but I’ll always remember the following teachings on regular practice and appropriate mindset:

  • Breath is essential According to my teacher Louie Ettling, senior teachers consider pranayama more essential than asana. When I told her that I can go through the motions of pranayama but don’t quite “get it,” she said that it might seem difficult and unrewarding at first, but change is happening, however unapparent. She promised me that I’d someday recall our conversation and find it unbelievable.
  • No ambition Louie says that pranayama cannot be done with ambition or too much effort. If you push yourself, your breathing becomes tense and labored. Unlike asana, where rigorous effort is involved, pranayama must come from a relaxed body and mind.
  • Posture In class, Louie typically includes both supine and seated pranayama. For healthy people, she says, sitting upright is ideal; but for those who cannot sit without stress (and for all beginners), lying down brings ease.
  • Start small Don’t assume that a pranayama session must last an hour: that’s daunting. Louie advises starting with 10 minutes daily.
  • Simple breath awareness The first step in any pranayama technique is to establish a smooth, slow breath cycle. The trachea and other respiratory organs must be soft. The posture must be upright or reclined with open chest. If I simply lie on a blanket stack and observe my breath, I might develop a smoother, slower breath cycle. A fine start!
  • Learn by doing During the December workshop that I attended in Hawaii, Aadil Palkhivala wisely pointed out that no one can “lead” you in pranayama or talk you through techniques. A teacher can demonstrate and explain, but must be silent while students try it on their own. In asana, a teacher can effectively call out instructions, correct with words or touch, and communicate in the moment. In pranayama, such talk and interaction would only distract (and possibly disrupt or disturb) students.
  • Pranayama shouldn’t make you sleepy! During a reclined pranayama exercise with Aadil, he used a metronome to help us determine our natural inhale and exhale lengths. Halfway through, at least one person drifted off. I stayed awake but realized when we sat up that I’d been daydreaming during the final moments. Aadil asked for our responses and then gave his: “You don’t need pranayama. You need more sleep!”

He teaches with humor and was joking, but only partly. He stated that vata people need 7 hours of nightly sleep, plus a 15 minute nap; pittas need 8 hours at night plus a 30 minute nap; and kaphas need 9 hours at night plus a 45 minute nap. (Naps?!) Even if you’re not sold on dosha types, it’s true that individuals vary in hours of sleep needed (and that it’s critical to meet your minimum). It’s also true that pranayama is impossible if you’re drowsy.

Among my 2012 resolutions, two are obvious: Do 10 minutes of pranayama and sleep at least 7.5 hours daily.

Image: Calvin & Hobbes, The Inquisitr; metronome, Wikipedia

 

December 24, 2011

Sun salutation, cat, and the meaning of accommodation

Posted by YogaSpy under attitude, balance, body, change, home practice, life, yoga | Tags: , |
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My student Mieko sent me this mesmerizing video. “My cat only scratches my yoga mat,” she wrote, “How is your cat?”

My cat occasionally joins me on the mat, sauntering underneath my Adho Mukha Svanasana, nudging my legs when I’m sitting, or plopping himself at feet when I’m in a lunge. I make way for him, but my asana is compromised.

Or is it? The girl in this video continues moving while balancing a cat on her back. Meanwhile the kitty, who simply wanted a stable perch, adapts to her movements with impressive composure, burrowing into her lumbar spine with grace, tenacity, and pointy claws.

Talk about accommodation! Make the most you can with what you’ve got.

 

December 21, 2011

Could you live without a mirror?

Posted by YogaSpy under Bikram, home, Iyengar, life, types of yoga, yoga | Tags: , , , , , |
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I just returned from a trip to Hilo, my hometown on the Big Island of Hawai‘i. During my stay, I spent four nights in Captain Cook, South Kona, to attend a workshop by Aadil Palkhivala at Big Island Yoga Center. I rented a rustic in-law apartment with futon on floor and open-air kitchen and bathroom. Tropical foliage surrounded the house, along with a few wild chickens and cows.

As a Lonely Planet writer, I’ve viewed countless vacation rentals and mentally rated this one a “decent value.” It could’ve used a thorough professional cleaning (immaculateness can boost a no-frills studio to A+ in my book), but I loved the space and greenery. The noise outside—branches rustling and wings fluttering, moos and cock-a-doodle-doos—didn’t bother me, although I initially thought I was being spied on.

I did need to provide three things for myself: Dishwashing liquid. Paper towels. And a mirror.

I noticed the first two immediately, during my initial wipe-down of the place. The lack of mirror went unnoticed till late the first night.

Now, I’m not a constant mirror looker. I don’t wear makeup and only occasionally use contact lenses. I do Iyengar yoga, not Bikram yoga, which involves looking at one’s mirror image while doing asana. But don’t I need to check if my sunscreen is blended and my hair not a wreck? What about the eyelashes that seem to migrate into my eyes every so often?

The second day I bought a cheap compact mirror. It got me thinking about whether I could live without one. My dog and cat don’t check their appearances in the mirror. They groom themselves “blindly” and they are gorgeous. They are aware of themselves from the inside, not from looking at themselves from the outside.

Imagine if we never saw how we look from the outside. Would that change our self-image and our behavior? I recalled that 1954 Norman Rockwell painting Girl at Mirror. Growing up, all kids scrutinize themselves, especially their faces, to figure out the age-old question: Who am I?

We probably all look at ourselves in a mirror at least once daily, if only casually while brushing our teeth. Seeing our own faces viscerally reminds ourselves of our existence. We see changes from day to day, year to year, and we align “inner me” and “outer me.” Maybe mirrors help to keep us honest. Can you look yourself in the eyes if your conscience is guilty?

In yoga, it’s distracting to watch one’s reflection doing asana, but I find it revealing occasionally to check my form in a mirror: Is my thoracic spine really concave in Urdhva Mukha Uttanasana? Is my pelvis neutral in Chaturanga Dandasana?

Mirror issues soon gave way to full days of yoga (and island life in general). But these thoughts momentarily popped into my head thanks to the missing mirror!

 

December 8, 2011

What color is your parachute?

Posted by YogaSpy under home, life, props, yoga | Tags: , , |
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I recently ordered yoga bolsters for a bunch of my students from Halfmoon, an excellent Vancouver-based prop maker. The bolsters come in four colors, so I had to ask, “What color do you want?”

“Oh, any color,” a couple of them replied. I insisted that they make a choice. Others indicated their preferred color without my prompting. One provided a second choice, and another ordered two types of bolsters in the same color.

The color question reminded me of my long-lost friend Dan, a San Francisco lawyer. When I knew him a decade ago, he was working at a large firm. Slightly older than his peers, he was hard-driving, yet palpably less stressed than the typical overworked, bitter associate. I remember him as eccentric, upfront, and always smiling.

Once, the topic of favorite color arose. “I don’t have to think about it,” he said. “Green. When I see the color green, it feels like home. It feels like me.”

I immediately pointed the question to myself: what color is me?

Why, I had multiple favorite colors! I could identify the definite no’s but which felt like home? I couldn’t help qualifying my choices: I liked one color for clothing, another for kitchen wall paint, another for yoga props!

I was slightly vexed that no single color leaped out at me. If I didn’t know my favorite color, surely I didn’t know myself. After a misguided detour into law, how could I find the right path if I couldn’t even choose a favorite color? (Note: Those career books like What Color Is Your Parachute? were compelling in concept but ultimately useless.)

Today I am clearer in my likes and dislikes, and I’ve found a compatible path in yoga/writing/editing. I’m not a snap decision maker but I’m negotiable: no answer is set in stone and maybe that’s okay.

Images: Crayola Crayons, www.colourlovers.com

 

November 30, 2011

Forced stillness

Posted by YogaSpy under attitude, body, change, health, home practice, life, yoga | Tags: , , |
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The other day, I returned to the MRI clinic where I got my knee scanned last summer. (I wanted more of the orange foam earplugs given to patients. They look ordinary but block noise better than any others I’ve tried. I use them when it’s not quiet enough for sleep.)

In the elevator, I met a woman also heading to the MRI clinic. She was due for a second scan, and she was anxious: the noise, the tunnel, the claustrophobia. She even brought a friend for support.

I’d experienced the exact opposite reaction. Weird as it might seem, I rather enjoyed the process: lying down, not moving, for 20 or so minutes. The noise level was not excessive (thanks to those earplugs, plus headphones to hear the technician’s voice).

Mostly I appreciated the forced stillness.

Perhaps that’s because I rarely sit still (not counting working on my computer or eating a meal). Any situation that forces me to be still is welcome. I like pre-flight time at the airport, reading a long-awaited novel and daydreaming with impunity. I like waiting rooms, where I have an excuse to rifle through glossy fashion magazines. I really like massage and haircuts, where I’m not only still but also pampered.

In yoga, Savasana and restorative poses are all about stillness, physically and mentally. But, outside of class, how often do I do a long Savasana or a gentle class? Rarely. Okay, never.

My occasional episodes of forced stillness do me well. Maybe they should be less occasional and more regular. Doing a restorative practice once a week might be just the ticket.

Note: My MRI was normal, and my knee healed on its own. Go figure.

Image: Gingy, my late kitty who slept in perfect, symmetrical alignment.

 

November 25, 2011

What have I got to be thankful for?

Posted by YogaSpy under attitude, change, health, life, yoga | Tags: , , |
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I recently reconnected with a yoga classmate (I’ll call her Jill) whom I met in Berkeley. We’d lost touch after I moved to Vancouver a few years ago. Around Christmas 2008, in her mid 30s with a new marriage and PhD, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. This year, she had a baby.

What a journey she’s traveled in three years. (And I figured I’d made a big change by moving to Canada.)

I thought of Jill when I read this excerpt from Susan Sontag’s Illness as Metaphor:

Illness is the night-side of life, a more onerous citizenship. Everyone who is born holds dual citizenship, in the kingdom of the well and in the kingdom of the sick. Although we all prefer to use only the good passport, sooner or later each of us is obliged, at least for a spell, to identify ourselves as citizens of that other place.

It must surely transform one’s everyday mindset to journey to that other place. Without this rite of passage, we can so easily forget about our own terminal condition. It doesn’t matter whether we’re young or old, rich or poor: if we’re not facing cancer or another critical illness, we walk around blithely, obsessed about things that would mean nothing if we knew the end was near.

We all sustain less-daunting afflictions, from broken bones to migraines to common colds. Maybe little illnesses and injuries—brief trips to that other place—are just practice for the big ones that we’ll all face down the road.

Some would say that Jill’s got a lot to be thankful for. But it’s really people like me, so lucky and so ungrateful, who do.

 

November 14, 2011

On procrastination

Posted by YogaSpy under attitude, blogging, change, life, yoga blogs | Tags: , |
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Seven weeks remain in the year 2011. Seven weeks!

Are you satisfied with your year so far? If not, you have seven weeks to turn it around. Me, I’ll face off with procrastination.

Take my blog. I post infrequently despite a swarm of viable topics buzzing in my head. I take ages to transform them from half-baked ideas to publishable posts. Why? Procrastination. I’m not lazy by nature, and I’m Type A about my work, my practice, and my teaching. But I grapple with non-deadline tasks.

The trouble with procrastinating is the snowball effect: the longer I wait, the larger the task looms. If I posted to my blog twice a week, each post would seem ordinary and routine. When I wait for two or more weeks, each post seems momentous. The longer the passage of time, the more I feel compelled to write a stupendous post.

I sometimes experience the same syndrome with other non-deadline tasks, such as answering personal email. If a close friend emails me, I want to respond with a substantial note, not a flip “thanks for writing!” But with work and other pressing matters, personal email might linger in my in-box far too long. The irony is that I immediately answer trivial messages with quick and dirty conciseness. Prompt and efficient. I should apply this approach universally.

In seven weeks, maybe I can complete those non-deadline tasks on my to-do list. None are sisyphean except in my imagination. I can probably complete one per week. Just. Do. It.

 

November 11, 2011

The first time I saw Remembrance Day poppies

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When I first moved to Canada, I was surprised by the red poppy pins worn around Remembrance Day. News anchors and politicians pinned them to their lapels, as did Vancouverites of all stripes. Walking down the street, I’d see scattered red dots coming toward me and smile to myself.

Initially I attended Remembrance Day ceremonies, solemn, traditional, and patriotic, but in a low-key Canadian way. I listened to the vaguely familiar words of In Flanders Fields, a poem close to Canada’s heart and memorized by schoolchildren here. I liked the numerical elegance of the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.

Growing up in Hawaii, Memorial Day, in terms of military veterans, didn’t resonate strongly with me. The last Monday in May mostly marked the start of summer. As an adult in Berkeley, California, especially in the late 2000s, patriotism was a complicated concept (and fallen soldiers served as symbols of a misguided administration).

In Vancouver that first year, my eyes were wide open. Remembrance Day in Canada was different from Memorial Day in the USA. I noticed and appreciated those red dots coming toward me. Now, less than five years later, I don’t see them with the same sharpness.

Why? Is it the human condition to become blind to the familiar? Must I grow jaded when novelty disappears? Can I train myself to see with fresh eyes?

Related post:

Image: poppy pin, Cafe Maplethorpe blog

 

October 14, 2011

Come dancing*

Posted by YogaSpy under attitude, life, yoga | Tags: , , , |
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Last summer, my friend Siobhan performed a compelling solo dance for her “project” at an Iyengar yoga teacher training in Victoria, BC. All participants had to express parinama (transformation), samskaras (imprints), gunas (three qualities of nature), and heyam dukham anagatam (Google it), through any creative medium. Naturally, people chose familiar modes of expression: An art teacher made striking mixed-media pictures. Some cut up magazines to make collages. A few read aloud deeply personal essays.

Only Siobhan danced. That’s probably because she’s a talented, trained, professional dancer. Who else would dare perform a solo dance in public?

That very week, I received a video of my little niece dancing to entertain herself at a San Francisco museum (she was probably bored and squirmy). Like Siobhan, she did an improvisational dance. Unlike Siobhan, she is not a professional dancer. At what age do we distinguish between what we do and what we simply do not do?

Maybe it happens early. By elementary school, even kids prefer to do what comes naturally, what they’re “good at.” That’s why I like to see folks step out of character and do the unexpected. I like to see middle-aged people change careers or seniors try yoga for the first time. I like to see non-professionals entering realms typically reserved for professionals. YouTube has been a great equalizer (for better or worse). Take this 2008 video, Where the Hell is Matt?, that went viral. It features the funny dance of an ordinary guy “dancing” around the world and it never fails to cheer me up.

*“Come Dancing,” The Kinks, 1982

Come dancing
Come on sister, have yourself a ball
Don’t be afraid to come dancing
It’s only natural


	

			

	
 



							

						

				
October 4, 2011



	

			Are you chatty with your yoga students?
		

Posted by YogaSpy under classes, life, public image, relationships, studios, teachers, yoga  | Tags: ,  | 
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One of my yoga-teacher colleagues wondered if she reveals too much of herself to her students. Before class, she might chat with students, and so they end up knowing bits and pieces about her life. Warm and outgoing, she calls herself an “open book” with people. But she questioned whether should be more “mysterious,” ie, businesslike, focusing purely on her role as yoga teacher.


Yoga teachers vary in their degree of self-revelation to students. It all depends on a teacher’s innate personality.


As a teacher, I try not to be too chatty and familiar in the class setting. If there is too much banter and inside joking among students before class, the atmosphere can become cliquey, excluding those who are new or less chummy. If I personally know a student, I save non-yoga conversation for later.


That said, I do share relevant personal information with my students, nothing too private or self-involved, but anecdotes that might illustrate a point. Do some teachers reveal absolutely nothing of themselves? Perhaps. Such circumspection reminds me of a monk I met on Kaua‘i…


A blank slate


Undercover for Lonely Planet, I’ve toured Kaua‘i’s Hindu Monastery, a 353-acre garden sanctuary that’s become quite a tourist attraction. One of the resident monks leads public tours: One year, the monk-tour guide was Sadhaka Dandapani, a charismatic Indian guy from Perth. Another year, the guide, a white man, called himself Satya. During the tour, a visitor asked him where’s he’s from.


Satya dodged the question and said, “Why should it matter where I’m from?” One’s origins, eg, race, ethnicity, hometown, culture, age, gender, education, and occupation, should not affect our regard of one another.


He was right. We do pigeonhole others based on such facts. But he sounded guarded and rather lofty, implying he came from nowhere and everywhere. In contrast to Dandapani, Satya struck me as contrived. We can try to be blank slates, but we’re human, and humans share their stories with one another.


Gut feeling


That said, how much information do you need about your yoga teacher?


We generally “read” people fast, by intangible factors. Don’t you quickly know whether you can relate to someone? Whether there is rapport? Whether you like the person? With yoga teachers, can’t you tell after a few classes if they have something to teach you? Do you need to know details of their private lives?


Some (typically males) tend to choose their associates on this type of gut feeling. Others (typically females) tend to ask a zillion questions right off the bat, searching for factual points of reference (from college to spouse/partner to favorite brand of jeans); the more shared reference points, the more bonded they feel.


Maybe gut feeling arises first, and details confirm one’s initial impression. Maybe we choose our teachers from our first encounter with them; any anecdotes they later share just add color.


Back to the original issue: Maybe what my friend reveals to her students is thus irrelevant. They might take her classes because from day one they simply liked her. And her chitchat now might be neither here nor there.


Related post:



Images: Pumpkin, 2006; blank slate, My Blog blog

	

			

	
 



							

						

				
September 15, 2011



	

			The element of risk
		

Posted by YogaSpy under Iyengar, life, teacher training, teachers, yoga  | Tags: , , ,  | 
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When was the last time you took an exam that mattered?


During my end-of-summer trip to California, an acquaintance asked about my training to be a certified Iyengar yoga teacher. I gave him the gist, describing how the training program, while international in scope, is small and selective, mentor-based, and lengthy.


And then there is assessment. To be certified, one must pass a national assessment, by an objective panel of senior teachers, of one’s practice and teaching. Put another way, one can fail. In many teacher-training programs, participation is enough!


I’ve experienced a couple of assessments as a “student,” and I can vouch for the seriousness of the affair. Assessment strikes me as both exhilarating and daunting; it ups the ante in our training, arguably for the better. I’m not claiming that exams are necessarily a good thing. Some folks are lousy exam takers. Some end up obsessing on the exam, missing the larger picture.


The element of risk


But isn’t the element of risk present in any important endeavor?


If you’re a trauma surgeon, overlooking one detail can kill a patient. If you’re a parent, your patience and attention are constantly tested. If you’re a competitive athlete, facing defeat is part of the game. If you’re a US Army Ranger, your whole job is about navigating danger. Even if you’re practicing yoga or meditation, you’re not quite relaxing, you’re refining your mind and body.


Conversely, carefree pursuits have no element of risk. Watching TV, going shoe shopping, gossiping on the phone, eating potato chips. There’s nothing wrong with taking it easy now and then, but doesn’t that get boring after a while?


Living in modern, privileged countries, we face few real threats. We’re not trekking over mountains or fending off grizzlies. We live cushy lives. If we seek challenges, we end up creating them for ourselves. We might push our limits by choosing a demanding career, playing sports, entering contests, and so on. As kids, we are plopped into a challenging arena: school. But, as adults, we can get stagnant if we avoid risks.


Some might argue that circumstances shouldn’t affect our focus and intensity. Shouldn’t we go all out running solo, as if in a race? Sure. But most people try harder when stakes are higher.


What do “exams” really examine?


Whether it’s a bar exam or medical boards, a tennis match or a chess tournament, “exams” are meant to examine one’s aptitude in a given field. Actually, however, they probably measure one’s mental state in terms of confidence and composure under stress. In elite sports, competitors are comparable in physical talent and fitness; the mentally tougher athlete will win. In Iyengar assessments, all candidates are more or less ready in their substantive knowledge of teaching asana; rather they must shake off nerves and perform gracefully under public scrutiny.


In any endeavor, training toward mental toughness is just as valuable as substantive learning. Iyengar assessments perhaps develop this side of teachers. To me, that’s a worthy end.


Images: Wiseman Says

	

			

	
 



							

						

				
August 20, 2011



	

			Yoga Journal: the music issue
		

Posted by YogaSpy under Ashtanga, celebrity teachers, Iyengar, marketing yoga, music in classes, north american trends, teachers, yoga  | Tags: , , , , ,  | 
[3] Comments 



	


The September 2011 issue of Yoga Journal is “the music issue.” It contains a home practice sequence synced with an MC Yogi playlist, interviews with musicians who do yoga, and a look at the kirtan spectacle in America. The online magazine offers Funky Love Songs, “some of the grooviest, most genre-bending forms of mantra music in the yoga world.”


Should we care what Alanis Morissette (cover model), Bonnie Raitt, Moby, Ziggy Marley, and Maroon 5 band members say about yoga? Well, I’m a willing listener of stories and opinions (on yoga, on whatever)—if someone has something to say.


I wrote about doing asana to music in The trouble with mixing yoga and music: Part I (featured in WordPress’s Freshly Pressed and by far my most-viewed post) and Part II. Nothing much to add; I said my piece then.



But I want to share a video of Maty Ezraty, interviewed by Michelle Myhre of Devil Wears Prana, on being a “good” teacher versus being a “popular” teacher. When asked about authenticity and teaching real yoga, she advised against trying to please students just to be popular. At one point (1:30 minutes in), she suggested not playing music in classes:


“… [W]hen the music is on, [the] mind identifies with the music and it doesn’t really go in. You don’t really listen to what’s going in there. It’s not very pleasant always to listen to what’s going on in there, but that’s the yoga: dealing with it, seeing it, to get free of it.”


Maty’s straightforward, clear ideas (and easy smile and laugh) impressed me.  I don’t know her but I’ve long recognized her name and face. She studied directly with Pattabhi Jois (and initially with BKS Iyengar) from her early 20s and founded original YogaWorks studio in Los Angeles, although since selling the company in 2005, it’s become the Starbucks of teacher training. She mentored many celebrity, conference-circuit teachers, including Seane Corn, Shiva Rea, Kathryn Budig, and Natasha Rizopoulos. Considering her influence, she keeps a relatively low profile in the yoga “scene” and I respect her for that. When she and her partner Chuck Miller moved to the Big Island of Hawai‘i, I was somewhat intrigued because it’s my home island and my beat for Lonely Planet.


The clip is the second of a two-part interview worth watching. In Part I, she talks about her mentors, about today’s overemphasis on asana and the physical part of yoga, and more.

	

			

	
 



							

						

				
August 9, 2011



	

			No water bottles in the studio
		

Posted by YogaSpy under Ashtanga, Bikram, classes, diet, health, Iyengar, life, studios, teachers, yoga  | Tags: , ,  | 
[17] Comments 



	
Last Sunday, I was about to start teaching when I spied water bottles amid the mats, blocks, and blankets. It was hot, and I teach a rigorous class. One student claims that I can make her sweat in Tadasana.


“Put your water bottles against the wall,” I said, “otherwise I might kick them over. Strict Iyengar teachers wouldn’t let you bring them in the studio.”


Hey, I immediately remembered, I’m strict. I was also wary of messy spillage. “Actually, I changed my mind. Let’s not develop bad habits. Leave your water on the sink.”


“Drinking water during practice is generally not recommended,” I explained. “You build internal heat and energy doing asana, and the water puts out that fire. I don’t know if that’s medical truth, but I personally never drink water during yoga class.” (See Yoga Journal‘s blurb on drinking water during class.)


Unless I’m coughing, I have no desire to hydrate myself in the middle of physical activity. I hydrate myself before and after the activity. Not only would it distract me to chug water during the activity, but the urge to drink never even arises! I’m not talking about running marathons or going on 100-mile bicycle rides, but everyday stuff.


My practice is primarily Iyengar yoga, which is less sweaty than some other forms. But I attend workshop sessions that last three hours at a stretch… without water. I have tried Bikram and Ashtanga classes for fun… without water. When I ran, I’d go seven miles along the Berkeley fire trail first thing in the morning… without water.


Perhaps the “water break” is a mental break for some. At the gym, I might make a water-fountain pit stop to rally myself before my next set of pull-ups! It’s a ritual of sorts: do a set, stretch, take a sip, do another set. But in class the focus on yoga is constant, plus I’m loathe to miss a moment of my teacher’s teaching (or to need an extra bathroom break!).


If I drink lots of liquid during meals, my thirst is quenched for hours in between. Maybe it’s an individual thing. I’d hate to deny students necessary hydration. But part of me suspects that the bottled water industry has trained us to drink water 24/7! My dog and cat lap, lap, lap with gusto when they’re thirsty; they don’t take a gulp every 10 minutes. Isn’t that how we used to be?


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Image: Cheapwaterbottles.org

	

			

	
 



							

					
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