types of yoga

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February 2, 2012

The end of the story

Posted by YogaSpy under attitude, change, Iyengar, karma yoga, life, yoga | Tags: , , , |
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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: , , |
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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)

 

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!

 

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: , , , , , , , |
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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: , , |
[19] 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?

Related post:

Image: Cheapwaterbottles.org

 

July 22, 2011

Hooping and the hybridization of yoga in America

Posted by YogaSpy under Anusara, lululemon, north american trends, yoga, yoga performance | Tags: , , , , |
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Nature, its three qualities, sattva, rajas, and tamas, and its evolutes, the elements, mind, senses of perception and organs of action, exist eternally to serve the seer, for enjoyment (bhoga) or emancipation (apavarga).

Yoga Sutra II.18, Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, BKS Iyengar

Yoga and hula hooping? Yes, according to an August 2011 Yoga Journal article, “You Spin Me Round”: Hoop-yoga is trendy among Anusara yoga practitioners. The magazine profiles performer Shakti Sunfire (aka Laura Blakeman), who’s “part whirling dervish, part pinup girl, and 100 percent yogini.” It quotes Anusara’s founder, John Friend: “Hooping rocks.”

My reaction was mixed. On one hand, I’m all for innovation. I myself have invented new props, practicing one-legged standing poses on the flat side of a Bosu. The added wobbliness upped the ante: I had to stabilize my ankle, rediscover my balance, and risk toppling over. By forcing me to adapt, the Bosu woke me from complacency. So I’m not anti hooping (and the performers are amazing to watch).

On the other hand, does a hoop actually deepen the yoga experience or simply add another distracting flourish? To me, asana is interesting enough. A mere glance at Light on Yoga (BKS Iyengar) points out dozens of poses yet untried, while even the basics are teeming with details to refine.

Yogis just want to have fun?

What really perplexed me, however, was the notion that yoga asana needs to be more fun and playful. Anusara teacher Sianna Sherman says, “I feel like the appeal has something to do with people’s longing to play, to feel beautiful, to dance, to not be so burdened by the pressures of everyday life. You get a hoop on and some music, and suddenly you get a little lighter, freer, happier. It energizes you and draws more light into your life.”

Maybe it’s a matter of defining “fun.” To me, my regular yoga class is… fun. It’s intense and challenging in a calm way: There’s no loud music or party atmosphere. While there’s humor and camaraderie, it’s not a rip-roaring scene. And that’s exactly what I want from a yoga class.

Modern yoga is full of distractions: legendary masters, YouTube celebrities, crowded classes, the cult of lululemon. For me, the asanas themselves can be distracting in my ambition to do them—and to do them well. I, too, must remember that the real practice is actually introspective and solitary, subtle rather than spectacular (and you can wear your oldest T-shirt and shorts!).

Yoga offshoots introducing new “fun” elements reminds me of how I prefer my tea and coffee: au naturel. Quality tea. Quality coffee. Why tamper with a good thing? And where is the tipping point? A Frappuccino does contain coffee amid the milk, syrup, ice, and whipped cream, but, seriously, it’s a different species.

Elation and empowerment

The emphasis on fun and play repeated throughout the issue: Acro Yoga founder Jenny Sauer-Klein writes about the connection between play and bliss. “When I teach Acro Yoga,” she writes, “I’m helping adults to feel like children again, to trust themselves and each other, and to rediscover that belief in infinite possibility.” She describes how the pure joy of being held in the air turns fear and doubt into elation and empowerment.

Sound positive, if unmistakably American (nevermind my critique of Acro Yoga here). But do most folks who choose hoop-yoga or Acro Yoga need lessons on elation and empowerment? I suspect that able-bodied Western yogis (including me) actually need lessons on taming the ego. On stilling the mind. On being solitary and self-sufficient. On being content with less rather than more.

These new varieties of yoga do promote fun and play—and they’re certainly creative. I’d probably enjoy trying an Acro Yoga session or watching a hoop-yoga performance. Indeed, I relish the physical aspect of yoga and the exhilaration of a breakthrough. But, admittedly, I must work on the opposite: To find freshness in fundamental poses, day after day, year after year. To be more honest and humble in my asana practice (and in the rest of life).

Asana is inherently bhoga for me, so I need not increase its fun and playfulness. For me, a simple, serious practice is best.

Images: Shakti Sunfire; The Yoga Space; Acro Yoga

 

July 11, 2011

Do you have a Geeta story?

Posted by YogaSpy under Iyengar, mentors, relationships, teacher training, teachers, yoga | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , |
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A rite of passage for Iyengar yoga practitioners is a trip to the Ramamani Iyengar Memorial Yoga Institute (RIMYI) in Pune—to study directly with the Iyengars. Of course, BKS Iyengar is 92. Unless you met him in the 1970s or ’80s (or possibly the ’90s), it’s too late to make a personal connection now. It’s probably likewise with Geeta and Prashant, the son and daughter carrying his mantle. They, too, have taught thousands of students worldwide.

Does it matter that I’m only a “grandstudent” of the Iyengars? Mr Iyengar is a conceptual teacher so I can certainly learn from his writings and from his disciples. But I’ll never have those firsthand anecdotes!

My secondhand Geeta story

In early July, I traveled to the Iyengar Yoga Centre of Victoria to attend a weeklong teacher-training intensive taught by Leslie Hogya and Ann Kilbertus, among other senior teachers who have studied at RIMYI for decades. They often tell stories about the Iyengars: what they taught, what they said (and how they said it!).

A question arose about the wrist clasp in Marichyasana III (which hand clasps which wrist?) (my opinion: clasp the wrist of the straight arm; eg, in illustration, right clasps left). If I’m recalling correctly, Leslie discussed how Geeta taught it during a conference in Las Vegas. Someone laughed about the location: “Geeta in Las Vegas!”

I immediately  recalled a recent project that my Vancouver colleagues and I did for the Iyengar Yoga Association of Canada (IYAC): we summarized DVDs of Geeta’s 2001 conference in Vancouver. I wasn’t there, so the DVD footage was unfamiliar. While I have a decent ear for accents, it took multiple playbacks to get the gist of her words.

In one of my segments, Geeta, dressed all in white, gave a lecture:

“Sensations of perception take the mind elsewhere,” she said, “It is not that Trikonasana should be perfect for the sake of the knee or for the sake of the thigh. No. The moment you observe your body, your knee or thigh… your mind is going inward. That is the way to understand it.”

In doing asana, she said, “Focus on your own foot. Not others’ feet. It’s none of your business what’s going on with your neighbor’s foot.

“Yogic mind is pure mind. It doesn’t get distracted. When I went to Las Vegas, people [back in India] said “Las Vegas!” and wanted to know what I saw… I saw what I needed to see, and not what I didn’t need to see.”

The audience burst out laughing. And so did I, a decade later. I have no personal stories about Geeta, but how’s that for  my secondhand one?

Images: BKS and Geeta Iyengar portraits, IYAC; BKS Iyengar in Marichyasana III, Being Present blog

 

June 28, 2011

Do Savasana first?

Posted by YogaSpy under Anusara, Bikram, brahmacharya, sticky mats, studios, travel/vacation | Tags: , , , , |
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Last weekend I enjoyed a rigorous workshop taught by Chris Saudek, a senior Iyengar teacher from the Midwest. Since 1980 she has studied with the Iyengars in Pune; now, at the Senior Intermediate III level, she trains teachers in the US and Canada.

The asana sessions were challenging in the classic Iyengar way, with basic poses transforming into intense “experiences.” Sure, poses such as Pincha Mayurasana and Bhekasana are demanding, but who would’ve expected Paschima Namaskarasana to be so memorable (ie, excruciating)? Try holding it for 15 minutes (or what felt like forever), working through the stages of Parsvottanasana!

But I’m writing about a sequencing exercise that we did during the teacher-training session. In small groups, we had to create three different beginner sequences comprising the same set of poses. Teachers often feel compelled to vary their classes with new poses, but Chris wanted to illustrate how teachers can revamp a class simply by changing asana order.

My group (which included two experienced teachers, Eileen and Sarah, and my own mentor, Louie) readily created two basic sequences: one starting with standing poses; the other, with Virasana, a sitting pose. For our third sequence, we tried something iconoclastic: “Let’s start with Savasana,” my teacher suggested. I loved her idea: sly and imaginative, it pushed the envelope but not too far. We followed Savasana with Supta Tadasana, Tadasana, and the other poses, ending with another Savasana.

When I read our sequences to the group, we all laughed at our Savasana-first sequence. They assumed we were joking. Here, I’m not necessarily representing my groupmates, but I’ll make a case for it:

  • Centering Classes often start with Sukhasana to center the mind. If students arrive in a frenzy, sitting helps them to settle down and focus within. Can’t Savanasa do the same? One might wonder if Savasana would induce lethargy or drowsiness. But the pose should never induce sleep in the first place. In Savasana, the mind should be still yet awake and alert.
  • Comparison By repeating a pose at different points in a sequence, one can compare the effects of intervening poses. Here, would students find Savasana more accessible after doing other asanas?
  • Uniqueness It’s good to shake things up. Teachers, students, we’re all creatures of habit and subject to complacency. By doing Savasana first, instead of last, the pose suddenly captures the limelight. It’s not just a quick five minutes of collapse to end the class.
  • Experimentation Iyengar yoga is an experimental practice: try this, try that, observe  the effects. So, doesn’t it behoove us to try even wacky ideas? Of course, these experiments must have a good rationale and not break a fundamental rule of sequencing, such as following Sirsasana with Sarvangasana. But why write off an idea just because it’s unconventional?

Related posts:

 

June 18, 2011

Is a bad yoga class still pretty good?

Posted by YogaSpy under body, classes, flexibility, health, Iyengar, spine, teachers, yoga | Tags: , , |
[11] Comments 

Recently at the gym, I spied on a yoga-type class (it turned out to be “lyrical jazz”) in the adjacent dance studio. The teacher was doing what resembled Upavistha Konasana, facing a wall-to-wall mirror. Behind her, a lineup of students tried to copy.

With her elbows grounded on the floor, the teacher lengthened her spine forward. Her students were obviously beginners. While they varied in flexibility, all were rounding their backs and one was obviously in distress (and, of course, totally oblivious).

I was waiting for the teacher to jump up and help her students. Instead, she continued in her own pose, going deeper, enjoying her own stretch. She was “taking” her own class!

My first reaction was exasperation toward both teacher and students, all college-aged, if that means anything to you. The students are getting a bum deal. They must be clueless! As for the teacher: What teacher? No one was truly teaching.

Then I recalled the aerobics-type classes I took long ago. (Such classes still exist: Kickboxing. Boot Camp. Butt Blaster. And what’s the deal with Zumba?) Back then I didn’t mind that the instructor stayed onstage, leading us through moves. It would’ve been weird if the instructor singled me out and tried to perfect my steps or improve my form. All I wanted was a workout.

Now, as an Iyengar student and teacher, I undoubtedly vouch for the personal touch in yoga classes. But I’m wondering if one can learn something in a big anonymous group. For those who are observant and coordinated, it’s probably possible to watch and copy. With a background in sports or dance or simply good kinesthetic awareness, one can probably sense whether a pose feels right. The keen ones probably end up reading about yoga and finding a studio.

But what about the general, sedentary public? Do hands-off, mediocre yoga classes have some value? Are they better than nothing?

Image: Hello Kitty in Upavistha Konasana from Cocktails & Corpse Pose blog

 

June 7, 2011

Are your yoga teachers as eagled-eyed as mine?

Posted by YogaSpy under body, health, Iyengar, mentors, teacher training, teachers, wrists, yoga | Tags: , |
[4] Comments 

At a recent Iyengar teacher training session, we took turns performing and observing different asanas. In Iyengar yoga, being a keen observer is essential to being a good teacher. The great ones can practically intuit students’ weaknesses, habits, and blind spots.

I ended up performing Adho Mukha Vrksasana (arm balance or handstand) at a wall for the group of  teachers and colleagues. I kicked up just fine; no flailing, no hesitation, no crashing into the wall. But Iyengar yoga goes beyond whether one can “do” a pose.

First, my mentor teacher, Louie, noticed that I’d placed my hands wider than my shoulders: too wide. So I tried again with a narrower stance, waiting for the usual feedback: Front ribcage in. Tailbone up. Lumbar spine straight. Side torso long.

By now I know enough—about yoga, about my body—to predict the comments I deserve. But sometimes unexpected tidbits are tossed my way.

The quality of a pose

My teacher observed that I do the pose with an attitude of “attack,” approaching the wall more horizontally than vertically. ”Walk your feet in,” she advised. “Be upright, more on your arms, less on your feet.”

The notion of “attacking” the pose struck a chord. While I now enjoy inverted poses, they weren’t second nature to me when I first tried them over a dozen years ago. And I didn’t grow up walking on my hands or turning cartwheels. So my attitude can still harbor a touch of Boot Camp; I’m still trying to conquer Adho Mukha Vrksasana when I should embrace it instead.

While I can do the pose, I must rethink and refine its quality. This goes beyond the physical: Is a pose “earth,” “water,” “fire,” or “air”? Is it strong and vigorous? Is there softness and repose? And what is my attitude toward the pose?

The details of a pose

Another teacher, Nicola, noticed that I’d placed more weight on my right hand. “Ground through the left hand,” she instructed.

Wow. I was impressed. During Vancouver’s long, chilly winter-spring, I’d practiced Surya Namaskar B a lot, and my left wrist sometimes acts up during the transition from Chaturanga Dandasana to Urdhva Mukha Svanasana. In that handstand, my arms were equally straight. I wasn’t obviously favoring my right wrist, but whatever I did was enough for Nicola to notice.

Ultimately we figured out that my hands were placed too wide in Rod and Upward Dog poses, too. Maybe we solved my wrist issue. And so it goes in Iyengar yoga, where details matter.

Iyengar yoga certainly keeps me honest. My goal had been to balance without a wall. (I daresay that non-Iyengar teachers would have encouraged me in that direction.) Now I’m back to basics. I walked in with a decent handstand and walked out with a new prescription to find my true best pose.

Image: The Daily Doodle Adho Mukha Vrksasana; Chaturanga Dandasana

 

May 29, 2011

Skimming the surface

Posted by YogaSpy under asana, home practice, Iyengar, life, pranayama, yoga | Tags: , , , , , |
[3] Comments 

Here in Vancouver, Canucks fans are thrilled. Their team made the Stanley Cup finals for the first time in 17 years. Me? I’m a sporadic and superficial sports watcher. I might half-watch Olympic events, Wimbledon finals, NCAA playoffs, Tour de France stages, hockey games. I might enjoy the drama and athleticism. But I am rather clueless about the actual sports.

Watching a hockey game, I know I’m catching only the gist, barely keeping my eye on the puck. When I moved to Canada, I had to Google “hat trick,” “penalty box,” “power play,” and “Don Cherry.” I can’t recall who won the Cup last year. Plus, I didn’t grow up skating or playing team sports. And I’ve never had to fight for my life.

Unlike those who have played hockey themselves, I am not vicariously experiencing the action. And unlike those who follow the NHL, I know nothing about the coaches or players or teams. I’m only skimming the surface.

Likewise, I am probably only vaguely experiencing pranayama (see here for Yoga Journal‘s summary of six lineages’ approaches to pranayama). I’ve irregularly practiced pranayama over the dozen-plus years that I’ve regularly practiced asana. It is a challenge for me to sit or lie still and even harder to smooth the breath and still the mind.

In Iyengar yoga, taking the physical form of pranayama is the first step. I can lie on an appropriate arrangement of blankets for supine pranayama; I can sit in supported Sukhasana or Virasana for seated pranayama. But after that the practice is very subtle. My teacher says there should be minimal effort—and no ambition—in pranayama. If you try too hard, you tighten the throat and force the breath.

So, I lie or sit there, taking the physical form and watching my inhales and exhales. I am following instructions. I’m not attracting attention or causing a stir. But inside I know that I’m only skimming the surface.

I felt similarly when I tried Zen meditation a while back. I sat on a zafu and zabuton like everyone else at the zendo. I sat for 40 minutes each time. But was my mind still? Who in the room had a still mind anyway? One’s outer form doesn’t necessarily reflect one’s inner state.

If I want to be a savvy hockey spectator, I have my work cut out for me. If I want to go deeper in pranayama, I also must work, regularly but without ambition.

Image: Halfmoon zafu and zabuton

 

May 3, 2011

Vary the terrain

Posted by YogaSpy under aging, classes, health, Iyengar, senior classes, studios, teachers, yoga | Tags: |
[4] Comments 

In running, they say, “vary the terrain.” Roads, trails, hills, flats. Different types of terrain develop your fitness in different ways. I recently found this tidbit applicable to… yoga teaching.

Stymied by Dog pose

In winter I taught a small class at a community centre. Whether due to demographics or to coincidence, all of my students were older (55 to 65) and dealing to physical limitations. One woman had both rheumatoid and osteo arthritis. Another had extreme bunions and was recovering from foot surgery. One man had very limited range of motion across his joints, especially his shoulders.

The class was intended for “all levels” class but by default I had to teach a gentle/restorative/55+ class. Once, after Adho Mukha Virasana (Child’s pose), I instructed the class to push up into Adho Mukha Svanasana (Dog pose), a basic transition. The student with the foot problem was stumped.

“How do you get there from here?” she asked, stuck on all fours.

I talked her into Dog pose that day—and again in subsequent classes. It was a learning experience not only for her but for me, too, to guide someone through a transition that seems so obvious. My classes typically lean toward strenuous and strict, rather than gentle and easy; this approach suits most of my students, who are relatively fit and want me to correct, adjust, and guide them to their personal best. Here, I had to adapt with a softer approach.

The challenge of teaching less-adept students

Where I live, Vancouver, up-and-coming non-Iyengar teachers gravitate toward the two mega studios in town. There, they are assured large classes of primarily youthful, strong students. (Iyengar teachers typically teach at Iyengar studios or at community centres.)

At those venues, the Dog pose dilemma that I encountered would never arise. First, students are either athletic or experienced enough to figure out how to “get there.” Second, classes are too large to invite questions and other such “interruptions” by students.

Teaching large classes at large studios might be a good way to learn poise. It takes confidence to engage a group of 30 or 60 or more students. But it takes another type of know-how to work with novice students individually, especially students with limited physical ability.

Here, a teacher has great responsibility for students’ safety. It also takes real creativity to teach “just the basics” through modified poses, transitions, and sequences. Even the vibe is different: one cannot rely on “tricky” poses or communal rajasic energy to drive the class. The energy must derive largely from the teacher.

While it makes sense for advanced practitioners to teach advanced classes, a teacher is no less advanced if she teaches beginner classes. I myself found it harder to teach that gentle class than my more-vigorous classes.

It might behoove us teachers to teach a variety of students in a variety of settings. Like varying the running terrain, we might learn much from varying where and whom we teach.

Image: Louise Peterson, sculptor

 

April 18, 2011

On being “ready” for a pose

Posted by YogaSpy under body, health, home practice, Iyengar, life, props, teachers, yoga | Tags: , , , , |
1 Comment 

Yesterday someone asked me, “How do I know if I’m ready for a pose?”

“Which pose?” I asked back.

“Handstand.”

During a recent workshop with senior Iyengar yoga teacher Gabriella Giubilaro, she finally kicked up, with a minimal spot. But she usually requires more help. She’s rather nervous about the pose, and handstand requires a bit of aplomb, plus lightness and control.

We discussed the essential requirements, such as limber hamstrings, open chest and shoulders, and solid arms (she hyperextends her elbows). Working on each element is helpful but ultimately there’s only way to befriend a pose: to do it. Kick up, kick up, kick up. Try and try again.

Sometimes the block is mental. Fear of falling, fear of pain, fear of a pose. While a motivated practitioner can forge ahead independently in home practice, others do better with a good teacher. In fact, this woman attributed her successful kick-up to the teacher’s very-Italian exuberant energy.

10-minute Sirsasana

It’s quite clear when you’re not ready for a pose. If you try to lie in Supta Virasana (reclined Hero pose) flat on the floor and your knees ache after a minute, you’re not ready for the full pose. (Of course, you can and should do Supta Virasana propped on folded blankets.) If you can barely hold Padmasana (Lotus pose), you’ll find it daunting in inverted poses.

But sometimes we’re ready to go further but stick to habit. For years I’ve done daily five-minute Salamba Sirsasana (supported Headstand). While I occasionally held it longer without a hitch, I stuck to five minutes out of habit. (The timer in my Casio Baby-G is set to five minutes, which I used for headstand, Adho Mukha Svanasana (Dog pose), and other timed asanas. Maybe I didn’t want to bother changing the countdown for one pose.)

In January I enrolled in a monthly practice class that always includes 10-minute headstand. The first time I tried it, my shoulder and back muscles hung on to the end, but barely, especially with the added “risk” of being away from a wall. But it got easier with familiarity. In January and February, I continued my usual daily five minutes but added a 10-minute hold during the week of the class (prep work + confidence booster).

In March, I upped my five minutes to seven or eight, to step up incrementally. (My first teacher, Sandy Blaine, always advised students to increase headstand hold time by 30 seconds.) Then in April I regularly began doing 10-minute Sirsasana.

I suspect that I’ve been “ready” to hold a longer Sirsasana for a while, but needed an impetus. While I am quite aware of poses currently beyond me, I might be stalled in my doable repertoire. I can do the poses, but I can also go deeper.

Imagine that. If anything, I consider myself rather too driven in my asana practice. But I’m also a creature of habit, and I probably should regularly shake things up, whenever I am “ready.”

Images: CartoonStock; www.lordshin.ca

 

March 23, 2011

The rudeness of yoga teachers

Posted by YogaSpy under classes, Iyengar, life, studios, teachers, yoga | Tags: , |
[13] Comments 

I take a weekly practice class with my main Iyengar teacher, a highly regarded “teacher’s teacher.” Today she was out of town; thus a sub (Iyengar-certified, Intermediate Junior I) taught her class. In general, students are disappointed when there’s a sub. Experienced students, especially, are picky and want to spend time and money only on their chosen teachers.

As we prepped on our own before class, a fellow student (who’s a teacher herself) entered the studio, noticed that something was different, and asked whether our teacher was teaching today. The sub overhead and explained the situation. The inquiring student proceeded to leave.

I found this behavior closed minded. And presumptuous. And astoundingly rude.

First, one can learn from all decent teachers (and my teacher carefully chooses her subs). Sure, we have our favorites. Sure, we might not choose ongoing study with a sub but, for a single class, there is real benefit in working with another teacher.

I admit that I’ve skipped subbed classes (announced in advance) or been dissatisfied by subs many times over the years. When I began teaching, however, I grew more open to different faces and voices, ideas and experiences.

Second, it doesn’t matter if one is also a teacher. (In fact, this class is rife with teachers, many who chose to attend today’s class.) If one considers a sub a mere peer with nothing worthy to teach, one is forgetting that it’s informative to observe a variety of teachers.

Also, shouldn’t teachers show support for their peers? I can be as critical as they come, but as a teacher I’ve also become more empathetic toward other teachers.

Third (and most egregious), to leave after being noticed is just plain rude. One might have strong personal reasons for wanting to study only with a particular teacher. But that doesn’t trump common courtesy. Even a child would know this. I was flabbergasted that someone would actually walk out like that! The gall. This goes beyond yoga or classes or likes and dislikes. This is simply “bad form.”

Humans never cease to amaze me.

 

March 2, 2011

On paying attention

Posted by YogaSpy under asana, attitude, body, classes, Iyengar, life, teachers, types of yoga, yoga
[6] Comments 

The classic Iyengar method of teaching asana is what I’ll call the “demo” method:  teacher demonstrates and then students do. This contrasts with the common “follow the leader” method, in which teachers do practically the whole sequence along with students.

So, many students who attend my classes aren’t used to the “demo” method. Often, they’re hesitant to venture too far from their mats, unlike longtime Iyengar students who want ringside seats for demos. Sometimes, I demonstrate a forward bend with my head facing downward only to find students already doing the pose when I rise. Waitaminute, folks! I want to watch students enter the pose. If I’m doing the pose, I’m not watching them. And isn’t my job? To watch my students?

If they’re used to constant activity, however, some tend to be impatient. While I’m demonstrating, they can’t help but to ready their stance or to arrange their props. The instant they recognize the pose I’m teaching, their minds jump to expectations. I know this pose. I don’t need to watch. Let me do it.

This amuses me. Where are their minds during class?

I, for one, never tire of watching my own teachers demonstrate. I love to watch the details, from the spreading of the toes to the symmetry of a backbend. Once, my current main teacher told me that watching her own teachers was invaluable to her practice. It was only through visual observation that she learned to do the most-challenging asanas.

Close observation of teachers’ demos or words doesn’t mean agreeing with them. Heck, I’ve attended classes where I learned how not to do a pose! All classes are not created equal. Regardless, you’re physically there in class; you might as well be mentally there, too.

The yoga mind. If the whole point of yoga, including asana, is really to develop the mind, who has a better practice: The adept student who relies on ease and habit? Or the inept novice who pays close attention?

Image: Cliff & Olivia

 

November 12, 2010

The trouble with mixing yoga and music: Part II

Posted by YogaSpy under attitude, classes, health, home practice, Iyengar, life, music in classes, north american trends, pratyahara, types of yoga, yoga | Tags: |
[10] Comments 

A few days after I drafted my prior post on musical accompaniment to asana, I read a fascinating New York Times article, “How to Push Past the Pain, as the Champions Do” (October 18, 2010). In assessing how elite athletes edge out their competitors, despite equivalent “pain,” experts made two points. First, it helps to be familiar with the conditions (such as the race course), for optimal pacing. Second, it helps to “associate,” to concentrate on your sport and the task at hand.

Regarding the second point, John S. Raglin, a sports psychologist at Indiana University, says that less accomplished athletes tend to dissociate, to distract themselves:

“Sometimes dissociation allows runners to speed up, because they are not attending to their pain and effort,” he said. “But what often happens is they hit a sort of physiological wall that forces them to slow down, so they end up racing inefficiently in a sort of oscillating pace.” But association, Dr. Raglin says, is difficult, which may be why most don’t do it.

Association, not dissociation, works

Maybe I see yoga connections everywhere, but I found this point applicable to the music question. Asana is not an athletic competition, but yoga practitioners all face physical and mental strain in challenging poses (see “Holding the plank” for one example). Do you use music (or other forms of dissociation) to push through? Or do you focus on your muscles and bones, your form and alignment, your breath and mind?

Image: lifeofMimi.com, Mimi daydreaming of cloud carrots

 

November 11, 2010

The trouble with mixing yoga and music: Part I

Posted by YogaSpy under classes, health, home practice, Iyengar, music in classes, north american trends, pratyahara, types of yoga, yoga | Tags: , |
[39] Comments 

I never do or teach yoga to music. But one morning I scrolled through my iTunes library for something suitable. I chose Trans-Siberian Orchestra‘s Christmas Eve and Other Stories. (It was October.)

My favorite track is “Christmas/ Sarajevo 12/24,” their take on “Carol of the Bells.” Half listening in the midst of my asana practice, I found myself drifting down nostalgia lane… to high school band.

In the first clarinet row, I sat beside my cousin (I’ll call her JM), a year older and forever smiling. She was neither the brightest nor the dullest light, but that was beside the point. She had just the right tan and silky bangs. She was popular, and she had no problems.

I was more of an introvert and thin as a whippet, with fair skin and an unforgivable mass of curls. But JM was too ditzy to threaten, too bubbly to dislike. We shared jokes and giggles behind our shared music stand. Plus, she was a strong clarinetist and I was grateful for her presence when we played “Carol of the Bells.” The first clarinets repeatedly led the staccato four-note motif, which was a killer on the tongue and embouchure.

My practice was fine, if somewhat distracted. For now I prefer listening to music for its own sake—and likewise regarding practicing asana.

Music and pratyahara

While music rarely accompanies Iyengar yoga, I’ve attended general yoga classes where music is a highlight. I’ve read blog posts by teachers who spend hours creating playlists that’ll wow their students.

Music can be fun, and it definitely cranks up (or down) the energy level as needed. But, to me, it takes people out of their minds and bodies. Songs have unique connotations to us. They remind us of people, places, and the past. Should we be daydreaming in the midst of yoga practice?

Even a new and unfamiliar song alters our mind and mood. Often, I hear exalted world music played during Savasana, almost like a choral in a church. Likewise, should we rely on “yoga music” to get us in a yogic mood?

Music is fundamental to our arts, to our culture, and to our happiness. And it might superficially set the right attitude for asana. But isn’t music a sensory pleasure? Yoga is meant to wean us from the sensory pleasures. Can we align pratyahara, withdrawal of the senses, with that oh-so-cool class playlist?

GO TO PART II

Images: Vancouver snow; Putamayo Yoga CD

 

November 6, 2010

Finding a meditative experience in an Iyengar class

Posted by YogaSpy under classes, home practice, Iyengar, props, teachers, types of yoga, vinyasa/flow, yoga | Tags: , |
[11] Comments 

The same student who sparked my prior post, “Criticism and praise in yoga classes,” asked another question about Iyengar yoga classes:

“I… love my vinyasa practice because of the familiar repetition and rhythm—you can lose yourself in the continual movement. Do you think you can ‘get’ that meditative experience in an Iyengar class? Maybe on a micro level (the specific postures)? Or is that more of a personal thing (not something you ‘get’ from a class). Do you know what I mean?”

Excellent question.

Here are three answers off the top of my head:

Pose by pose My student answered her own question. On a “micro level” in the “specific postures,” one can find stillness. At some point, after the aligning and fiddling, one should settle down, breathe, and find ease. The long holds in Iyengar yoga are conducive to this process. Regarding props, I, too, sometimes feel hassled by complicated setups and a hefty stack of blankets. But holding a pose like Salamba Sarvangasana for five to 10 minutes, properly propped (and upright), leads you much deeper into the experience. Try it!

Flow in Iyengar yoga In a classic Iyengar class, there are stops and starts: A teacher demonstrates an asana while students watch. Then students try to replicate the pose, observed by the teacher. A teacher might use a student demo to further emphasize a point. For beginners, this “learn by example” method lets students watch without simultaneously trying to perform.

That said, when working with experienced students, teachers need not demonstrate basic poses. So classes can be more “flowing.” I’ve done countless sun salutations and continuous standing-pose sequences in Iyengar classes. These dynamic (yet still alignment-based) classes can complement the classic approach.

Class time versus practice time Again, my student already had her answer: a meditative experience might “not be something you ‘get’ from a class.” In old-school Iyengar yoga, there is a distinction between class time and practice time. In class, you watch, listen, and apply the lessons to group asana. At home, you practice.

Of course, most students expect to practice in class. I give my students an invigorating class because most don’t practice at home. But, if one is seeking a meditative (or otherwise individualized) asana experience, one can always inject class ideas into home practice. With alignment in mind, go ahead and do 50 handstands or sit and chant. The practice then becomes one’s own.

Image: Yoga Cat painting by Carol Wolf

 

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