types of yoga

DAVEY supported shoulder standA friend pointed me to a blog post, “Please, NO Lifts in Shoulderstand,” by Sandra Sammartino, a yoga teacher based in White Rock, BC. My initial response? No way. In Salamba Sarvangasana the overwhelming majority of people need shoulder support, such as folded blankets.

Then I stopped and caught myself. In my prior post, “Learning on your own,” I wrote about the necessity to learn independently. This means being open-minded about teachings, techniques, rules, and majority opinions. Whether you ultimately agree or disagree with an established idea, your conclusion should be your own.

OcciputSo I read Sammartino’s piece more slowly. She studied with BKS Iyengar in 1977 when she traveled to India at age 36. And she initially practiced supported shoulderstands.

Scrutinizing the photo of Sammartino’s current, unsupported shoulderstand, I recognized that she does an upright pose, not the typical banana-shaped version, resting on the shoulder blades, as illustrated above by the cat (who is doing a remarkable job considering no strap and slippery fur). She did this rounded version, which she calls “half shoulderstand” only during her recovery from neck pain allegedly caused by supported shoulderstand.

If she is doing unsupported shoulderstand as pictured daily at age 73, I’m impressed! But I have questions about her rationale for not using support, which she calls a “lift”:

  • Does using support cause cervical compression? Sammartino assumes that using support tilts the head backward, thus compressing the spine. In my experience using support, the head is neutral, as in Savasana–unless range of motion is limited in the upper back, chest, shoulders, or neck. Therefore, the assumption of cervical compression seems to be an overgeneralization. (Perhaps there’s confusion about the head position when using support because the head is tilted backward in the prep stage (lying on the set-up before raising the pelvis into Halasana or Sarvangasana). But, once the pelvis is raised above the torso, the head releases into a neutral, horizontal position.)
  • Where should the occiput should be grounded? Sammartino likes the base of her occiput (posterior skull) to touch the mat. To me, that would flatten the cervical spine too much. The head should be neutral, resting on center of the occiput. (Stiffer individuals can end up resting too high on the skull, with the head thrown back. I agree with Sammartino that this is risky.)

I get the impression that Sammartino was a beginner (and less strong and flexible than she is today) when she tried supported shoulderstand decades ago. Over the years, she has probably trained her body by doing “half shoulderstand” and has progressed into upright shoulderstand. She is lucky that her neck can tolerate major cervical flexion. But would she develop neck pain if she used support today? I don’t think so.

Of course, I’m just hypothesizing. For a firsthand experiment, I’d need to try unsupported shoulderstand myself. Never say never, but for now I’m happy with my stack of blankets!

Below is a video by senior-level Iyengar yoga teacher John Schumacher demonstrating Salamba Sarvangasana using support:


Images: Cat in shoulderstand, Yoga Cats; Occiput, The Free Dictionary

I can’t believe that 2014 is over. I still have tons of unfinished business and loose ends to tie up. Plus I didn’t read enough books, clean out my closets, practice enough yoga, spend enough time with family or friends…

On the bright side, 2014 was a decent year. I wrote another Lonely Planet Big Island book. I got an iPhone, my first smartphone (why on earth was I such an extreme holdout?). I injured and recovered from a hamstring injury. I replaced a back-wrecking memory foam with a solid Marshall mattress.

Most memorable, I studied at RIMYI and traveled to India, both for the first time, from late July to early September. It was a rite of passage, so to speak, but was it transformative?

Major events, including a big trip, can carry a myriad of expectations. Not only should the event itself be fascinating or exciting but, once done, one might expect to emerge a different person. I’m reminded of a friend’s description of summer camp at Algonquin Park when he was eleven: “By the end of summer, so much had happened, kids were convinced that no one at home would recognize them.”

While my expectations weren’t quite that high, I perhaps did expect something. I’m talking not simply about asana skill, but about perspective, attitude, and real maturity.

In my experience, however, a major event typically has short-lived consequences. It’s a blip in my normal range. A few months after my trip, I feel (and act) more or less as the person I was before. For an improved 2015, I need to focus not on major events, but on minor, everyday habits and routines. So, here are a few thoughts and a to-do list for 2015:


I average a book a month–in the best of times. I skip dozens of books filed away to read “when I have time.” Do I really lack time? Incrementally, I probably waste hours reading random stuff on the Internet or otherwise zoning out. A book a week is daunting, but two books monthly is within the realm of possibility.

I finished a bunch of India-related books in record time before my trip; once back, however, I read nothing from September to December, when I devoured two Somerset Maugham novels back to back: Mrs Craddock and The Merry-go-round.

Spending more time reading might seem like a luxury, but I’m much happier when part of my mind is living in a book. Since being happy enhances everything else, I’ve decided to read Mr Maugham’s fiction oeuvre, more or less in order of publication, this year. Follow along on my What I’m Reading page.


I recently met a newish Iyengar yoga student (about 18 months in) who raved about it. Middle-aged, slightly overweight, and male, I was pleasantly surprised by his enthusiasm. He talked not only of the physical benefits but, pointing to his head, said that he does yoga “for the mind.”

Manifested in him was the steep learning curve of a novice. I miss that initial stage, when everything is a mini revelation. It got me thinking: Where did my practice go this year? Forward, backward? What am I avoiding in my practice? For 2015, I’m planning a monthly home practice “focus” to include asana (and pranayama) that fall to the wayside.

Email Inbox

If anyone has emailed me and not [yet] received a reply, here’s why: I’m drowning in messages. Among my five Gmail addresses (plus one virgin Mac address kept as backup), I harbor 50, 75, sometimes close to 100 “pending” messages in my Inbox before filing or trashing them. The more complex, lengthy, or personal the message, the longer they could sit. (If you send a vague inquiry about Hawaii, forget it. It’s a topic too big and close to my heart. If you want a prompt reply, ask very specific, answerable questions!)

I am sick of my prodigious Inbox. It weighs me down and clutters my mind each time I turn on my computer. Between now and the end of January, I resolve to clean out my email Inbox.


Blog posts might seem easy to write, but for me they take an inordinate amount of time and energy. While they are more time-consuming that they seem, I also yield to the “work expands” theory, also known as Parkinson’s law: work expands to fill the time available for its completion.

I’m more productive under pressure, so I need deadlines. Ages ago, I skimmed a book by a professional organizer/clutter clearer who claimed that any project can be done in two weeks. I can’t recall either author or title, but the two-week time frame stuck in my head. Hmm, a post every two weeks?

Small WorldFamily and friends

The main thing that concerns me at the end of the year: How much time did I spend with the most important people in my life? The answer is usually the same: not enough. (On Thanksgiving, I did make a family trip to Disneyland for my little niece. So glad I did. There’s no substitute for such shared memories.)

In TKV Desikachar’s book The Heart of Yoga, he addresses how to determine one’s progress in yoga: Look at your relationship with people. He writes, “The success of [y]oga does not lie in the ability to perform postures but in how it positively changes the way we live our life and our relationships.”

When faced with the age-old dilemma between what’s urgent and what’s important, I must not let the urgent win all the time.

Assessments beyond assessments

To Iyengar yogis, assessment means one thing: being assessed for a particular level as a teacher. Nothing wrong with that. But I can’t help thinking about one of Prashant’s statements: “There is certification for yoga teachers. Why is there no certification for yoga students? You go to a two-hour ‘yoga’ class. Do you think you’ve done two hours of ‘yog’?”

It made me think: What if I were being assessed for all the “roles” in my life? Would I pass them all?

BKS DhanurasanaSkimming through an issue of Common Ground, a Bay Area “consciousness” magazine, I spotted a photo of a slim young woman in Dhanurasana. Her pose was all wrong, painfully so, with a collapsed chest, convex thoracic spine, and widely splayed knees. The image accompanied a woman’s essay on surviving depression and addiction with the help of yoga. Incredibly, the image must have been considered presentable, perhaps illustrating a strong and inspiring pose. I was fixated on her egregious form.

If this woman were in one of my classes, I’d immediately tell her to exit the pose–and to do a modified or propped version. First, she is inviting injury. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but eventually she could wreck her knees and crunch her lumbar spine. Second, she is not “getting” the pose, a backbend and chest opener. She is only attempting the superficial form of the pose, by catching her ankles with her hands. She is missing the essence of the pose.

Yoga Anatomy DhanurasanaI’ve attended non-Iyengar yoga classes in which students are minimally, rarely, or never corrected. The woman’s misguided Dhanurasana would be perfectly acceptable. Maybe the teacher would even throw in a few “Beautiful!” cheers.

Sometimes students are taken aback when they are corrected and told to “do less” in an Iyengar yoga class. But most students, once they viscerally experience a truly aligned pose, are grateful.

What’s acceptable in Iyengar yoga has nothing to do with ability or level or beauty, but on understanding the essence of a pose.

Check out the assortment of Dhanurasana images from a Google search. While some bodies are obviously more limber and able to perform deeper backbends, students of any level can understand the appropriate actions–open chest, concave thoracic spine, elongated hip flexors and quadriceps, relaxed face and neck.

BKS Parsva DhanurasanaDuring a class earlier this fall, I taught Dhanurasana and Parsva Dhanurasana. These poses are included in lower-level syllabi (Intro II and Intermediate Junior I), but they’re challenging for many because they require lifting one’s body weight against gravity. When we came to Parsva Dhanurasana, one student asked, “What’s the purpose of doing this?”

Off the top of my head, I explained that rolling to the side requires a good understanding of the basic pose, Dhanurasana, since the backbend must be maintained throughout. Also, the dynamic movement teaches coordination, to shift one’s center of balance. Later, I grabbed my Light On Yoga for BKS Iyengar’s statement on the poses effects: Parsva Dhanurasana massages the abdominal organs.

Now, while the pose might develop kinesthetic awareness and coordination and maybe even benefit the organs, maybe we do some poses partly just because they’re possible. If we climb mountains just because they’re there, maybe we do some poses simply for the challenge, to feel alive.

Images: BKS Iyengar in Dhanurasana, Kat Saks; in Parsva Dhanurasana, Kat Saks; anatomical drawing of woman in Dhanurasana, YogaAnatomy.net

The “yoga foot” has been much studied, taught, debated, and photographed. But what about the “yoga hand”?

trikonasanaA few weeks ago, I was practicing yoga with my friend Sharmeen. She observed one of my standing poses and suddenly asked, “Why are your fingers spread apart like that?”

Surprised, I exited the pose. “You mean like this?” Imagine fingers spread as if for Downward Dog.

Since my formative years, yoga-wise, in late 1990s, I’ve typically spread my fingers in open-hand poses such as Urdhva Hastasana, Trikonasana, Ardha Chandrasana, and the Virabhadrasana family. The one pose for which I prefer closed fingers is Garudasana.

We all know that the “yoga hand” is straight, unlike the hands in ballet or flamenco. But what about the fingers? We first consulted Light on Yoga. BKS Iyengar’s hands are vigorously straight and firm, with fingers pressed together.

yoga-awakening-the-inner-bodyI wanted a contemporary example. “Let’s check Donald’s book,” I said, referring to Donald Moyer’s Yoga: Awakening the Inner BodyI want to see the hands of the book’s female model, Candace Satlak, whose quiet elegance I’ve always admired.

Her fingers, too, are quite close together. Curious, I later skimmed other yoga books, including the following:

Regarding feet, rarely, if ever, do we deliberately press the toes together. We cultivate a mobile, agile, activated foot with toes spread. I’d assumed that we likewise benefit from spread-open palms and fingers, which struck me as stronger and full of life.

But, for the next few weeks, I tried keeping my fingers closed. I even instructed my students to try “fingers together” to one side of a pose and “fingers open” to the other. Does it make a difference? Does it change the pose? Does either feel more appropriate for you and your body?

IMG_1384To my surprise, I found myself liking “fingers together.” I appreciate the neat precision of fingers side by side. If I’m feeling scattered, this hand position reins me in. The orderliness in my hands somehow aligns my mind.

(To non-Iyengar yogis, hand shape might seem trivial. But hands (including wrists and fingers) reveal a lot. If students are struggling and trying not to show it, their tense, misshapen hands often expose their stress.)

What do you think? Is there an optimal “yoga hand”?

Images: BKS Iyengar, Trikonasana, zagyoga.net; Yoga: Awakening the Inner BodyRodmell Press; Tadasana, The Woman’s Book of Yoga & Health

TheraBandIn early September, I chanced upon the New York Times article, “Train Like a German Soccer Star,” by Gretchen Reynolds. After seven weeks abroad, I’d just returned to Vancouver, still gloriously sunny. Rather than resuming my pre-trip routine, I decided to try something new.

Check out the eight warm-up exercises developed by Mark Verstegen, team trainer for the German national football team, which won the 2014 World Cup, and founder of EXOS, a Phoenix-based athletic training company. I substituted this routine for my yoga practice two mornings a week. I ramped it up to a workout by increasing the number of repetitions and sets–and lengthening the distance covered when skipping and running.

FmRW_Quads-2__201110DD_122147The exercises were spot-on for me. For example, the first two use a six-inch-diameter foam roller, which I acquired a decade ago, but which has mostly collected dust. Finally, a reason to haul it out! The “Mini Band Walking” resembles a physiotherapy exercise once prescribed to me. Some remind me of yoga poses, such as “Inverted Hamstring,” which is essentially dynamic, repeated Virabhadrasana III. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Such repeated entries and exits (like kicking up to handstand five times fast) complement the long holds typical in Iyengar yoga.

The “Lateral Lunge to Drop Lunge” is trickier than it looks. Rising from the side lunge is akin to doing a one-legged, rotating squat. But the learning curve is quick (there are only eight exercises, after all), and body and mind benefit from unfamiliarity. Even the skipping and sprinting were mini revelations. While I’m comfortable with aerobic exercise (moderate, steady pace), I had to adjust to anaerobic exercise (heart-racing bursts rarely done if not a professional athlete or under 10 years old).

In Pune, doing more yoga seemed to further my practice. “More” can be effective. But, since September, has doing less yoga set me back? Not a lot. Variety and novelty can be just as rewarding.

Iyengar yogis who dabble in other methods

While mixing it up (with diverse activities) is good, what about mixing yoga methods?

DSC_0317_2I know dedicated Iyengar yoga students who also buy passes at non-Iyengar mega studios. One reason is what I’ll call forced practice. “I can’t seem to practice at home,” one practitioner told me. “This way, I do yoga several times a week. My body needs it.”

A related reason is cost. “A typical Iyengar class costs as much as an unlimited weekly pass,” said another. “So, I go to [Iyengar studio] once a week and to [mega studio] whenever I can. I don’t expect to be adjusted or corrected, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Why not just practice on your own?” I asked. “That would be free!” Again, the obstacle was discipline. “I don’t know why, but I’m resistant to practicing at home,” she sighed.

DSC_0304Other methods might strike Iyengar yoga students almost as “not yoga” and thus not be confusing or contradictory. One of my regular students revealed that she began attending Kundalini classes at her neighborhood studio to round out her running, Iyengar yoga, and mindfulness meditation. “It’s not yoga the way I understand it in Iyengar yoga,” she said, describing the music, dim lighting, and large group. “We might do something repeatedly, like wave our arms in a circle while humming. I don’t know why, but I get something else from it.”

There’s a limit to “multidisciplinary”

I don’t begrudge any yoga practitioner for exploring beyond their primary method. In my first few years of yoga practice, I was committed to Iyengar yoga (perhaps subconsciously) but I sampled Ashtanga, Yin, Jivamukti, and even a Bikram class or two! Firsthand knowledge about other methods provides context. How can you critique other methods if you haven’t tried them? To me, that is not fair, scientific, or open minded.

I do take issue with too much fusion teaching. In one of my first blog posts, Naming Names, I highlighted the trend among yoga teachers to name dozens of famous “mentors” and the gamut of yoga methods taught. Seriously? To me, there’s a limit to multidisciplinary expertise in any field. If a lawyer says, “I do corporate and M&A, plus estates and trusts, also class action litigation, with some pro bono appellate work for death-row convicts,” he’d be considered a joke. While there’s more overlap among methods of yoga than among areas of law, it’s similarly unrealistic to be a master at everything.

Related links:

Images: resistance bands, TheraBand; Quadriceps release, TheraBand Academy; blocks and ropes at The Yoga Space

Note: This post continues my “self interview” about RIMYI. Read Part I first.

IMG_0603Was the student population diverse?

Based on my unscientific observations during August 2014, the biggest contingent was from Italy. I met dozens of Italians and many British and French. I met a handful each from the US, Canada, and Japan, and others from Germany, Australia, Spain, Russia, Hungary, Hong Kong, Israel, Mexico, Singapore, Chile, Colombia, and South Africa. The Indian students were local, i.e., Indian citizens, mostly Pune residents.

In terms of race/ethnicity, the majority of foreigners were Caucasian. There were some Asians and Hispanics; I saw no blacks or people of African descent.

The gender ratio was relatively balanced, with about a 60/40 ratio between women/men. There were students of all ages, from 20s to 70s or 80s.

Are all classes taught in English?

Yes (with a dash of loud Marathi thrown at the locals).

After meeting some non-English-speaking Italians, I wondered, “What can you gain from RIMYI and Iyengar yoga without language compatibility?” The teachings are highly verbal.

In one class, Raya repeatedly voiced instructions to “pink shirt,” a woman adjacent to me. She didn’t comply until he walked up to her. “Does she speak English?” he asked, and a fellow Italian translated. “What’s the point of coming here if you can’t speak English?” Raya muttered, rhetorically.

(Prashant’s class, which hinges on his words, must be an ordeal for non-English speakers!)


Week by week, do asana classes follow a progressive order?

No. Perhaps because the women’s classes were taught by three different teachers, each class was a separate entity. One day Rajlaxmi did repeated backbends (Urdhva Dhanurasana and Dwi Pada Viparita Dandasana, pushing up from the floor). The next class focused on deep, seated forward bends. Overall (and to my disappointment) we did more forward bends than backbends–at least in the first two-and-a-half weeks of August.

Can I modify poses on my own? What if I can’t hold rope Sirsasana for 10 minutes?

In Prashant’s classes, there are always two or three poses going on simultaneously. You can always opt to repeat a pose. Prashant will bark out, “Now switch. Ladies, go to the ropes for Sirsasana.” But he ultimately doesn’t care which pose you do–if you are going deeper and deeper, further and further. Once, he commented that we could very well repeat the same pose, but he gives options because we’ve grown accustomed to the “workout” of a varied sequence.

In other classes, I wouldn’t modify poses with alternate props unless necessary. Of course, take care of yourself; you’re more or less on your own. (Note: don’t worry about super advanced poses or complicated set-ups: with 150 students, teachers stick to the basics.)

IMG_0930Did the teachings make sense? Did they confirm your existing understanding of Iyengar yoga?

Regarding “nuts and bolts” asana, the teachings closely paralleled my prior learning, from teachers in the US and Canada.

Contrasting Prashant’s teachings with the others’, I did ask myself: Are they contradictory? Prashant cares little about excellence in asana form; he instead prods us to cultivate breath sensitivity (and, ultimately, mind sensitivity). Once, he directed us into dynamic Urdhva Prasarita Padasana, “with the breath, by the breath, for the breath, through the breath, to the breath, from the breath…” How is the breath assisting the pose? How is it being assisted by the pose?

Then he commented, “Some of you are still striving for physical perfection. You are used to teachers who care about how you look. I don’t care. I’m not even looking.” Pause. “There’s not much to look at anyway.” (I really appreciated Prashant’s sense of humor.)

Going from his teachings to another class, in which people were corrected/adjusted/scolded for mediocre form, I wondered about the seeming contradiction. Here’s one way that I made sense of it:

For beginners, form is critical. Beginners must learn, step by step, the mechanics of the poses. Most beginners need a teacher. (Ultimately we are all beginners to some degree.)

For experienced students, the focus must eventually shift away from the body–at least with poses familiar and done proficiently. Here I agree with Prashant: this stage is inherently independent study and cannot be learned from a teacher (although it can be taught by a teacher).

Most of us need both types of teachings.

IMG_0609Did a month at RIMYI improve your yoga practice?

Before my trip, I’d heard people rave about Pune (even in recent years, well beyond the days of direct contact with BKS Iyengar): how intense it was, how hard they worked, how their poses opened in amazing ways.

I took such stories with a grain of salt. Regarding yoga, I’m pretty levelheaded. My practice is steady–in that I don’t do markedly “better” or “worse” based on setting or teacher. I didn’t go with expectations of breakthroughs and that type of thing.

To my surprise I did find my asana practice to be extra solid–due probably to the long practice sessions. Strangely, I found that I could consistently clasp in Marichyasana III; kick up into balancing Pincha Mayurasa; and, best of all, do Supta Padangusthasana with more ease (my hamstring injury was healing!).

If my practice improved simply from quantity, I could replicate that anywhere–in more inviting conditions. Wide open spaces! Ample wall space! Fresh air! No mosquitos! But, at home, I’m not a captive audience of my yoga practice.

While the women’s classes are more user-friendly than Prashant’s (partly because the teachers wear microphones), I found Prashant’s teachings a memorable departure from the norm. His teachings will stick with me. While he does repeat his message over and over, it’s a message I need to hear over and over. Am I exploring the breath? The mind? Am I stuck in the realm of the body? (While his message was constant, his clever imagery varied day by day. Stay tuned for more Prashant-isms!)

IMG_0932 Since flying home two weeks ago, my temporary life in Pune already feels distant–long ago, far away, a parallel world that words cannot quite describe. Once back, my mind switched to the here and now, the immediate stuff of life. Sooner than I probably realize, my memories of RIMYI and India will grow fuzzy, however vivid they once were. People will stop asking me about my trip; I’ll stop thinking about it. Time marches on.

So, before I forget, here’s a two-part post on “what it’s like” at RIMYI, dedicated to other first-timers. I’ll post the second half next week, so feel free to ask any burning questions before then.

What was your schedule at RIMYI?

  • Monday: 7-9am Prashant class; 9am-12pm practice; 5-6pm pranayama class
  • Tuesday: 7-9am Prashant class; 9am-12pm practice
  • Wednesday: 9:30-11:30am Gulnaaz/Abhijata class; 4-5:45pm practice
  • Thursday: 7-9am Prashant class; 9am-12pm practice
  • Friday: 9am-12pm practice
  • Saturday: 7-9am Prashant class (optional); 9:30-11:30am Rajlaxmi class; 4-5:45pm practice

I developed a habit of waking at 5am, either to my iPhone alarm or to roosters cock-a-doodle-dooing. That gave me enough time for tea and breakfast. If you want a prime spot in any class, arrive at least 20 minutes early. (Half the time I just missed that window, but still found a spot.) I juggled my schedule to try a few intermediate classes (geared for local Indian students) because I was curious to see other teachers, such as Raya.

IMG_0705Are classes doable if you have an injury?

Yes, if you take care of yourself. Those with injuries or special practices gather in a designated area, use the trestle for standing poses, etc. I went to Pune with a lingering hamstring strain, too minor to report, but needing extra care.

During my first class with Rajlaxmi, she taught standing poses, such as Trikonasana, without props. My block must’ve stood out. “Who’s block is that?” she demanded. (I took her silence after my one-sentence answer as permission to use it.)

Are there any poses that should be second nature before you go?

Strong inversions are essential. In Sirsasana poses, you’ll be surrounded (closer than usual) by others. And who knows how long you’ll hold headstands, so if you have any doubts, find a wall spot (quick!). Sarvangasana poses were not held too long, but in the teeming hall it’s like The Amazing Race to set up. Often the foam mats were gone by the time I elbowed my way to the front of the line. I actually preferred using my own blanket set-up, but at least one teacher (Rajlaxmi) disliked alternate set-ups. IMG_0704

Poses are often taught with few or no props, e.g. standing poses without blocks, forward bends without straps. One day, we did dropovers from Salamba Savangasana to Setu Bandha Sarvangasana–on a bare mat.

Finally, in Prashant’s classes, expect long holds in rope Sirsasana, either from ceiling ropes (about a dozen spots) or wall ropes (about half a dozen). If such holds are contraindicated, I would repeat the alternate pose(s) because it’s awkward to exit the pose before he calls time.

Do classmates really “steal” your props?

Yes. In a group numbering 120 to 150, it’s perhaps inevitable that props not obviously claimed are fair game. So, if you gather props for class or practice, place them within sight. Otherwise you might turn around and find nothing there!

Did you get dressed down?

No. (No one gets hit either, contrary to myths and legends about RIMYI.)  Prashant does yell if students dillydally (in his eyes). But it’s a momentary lashing, nothing personal. The next moment, he might make a wry joke. Early in the month, Prashant rattled off the options for our final pose. I heard “Setu Bandha” and set myself in the supported version using a block. Prashant, who was standing nearby, saw me. “No!” he said, loudly. “No Setu Bandha on a brick! I said Setu Bandha on a bench… or Janu Sirsasana, Viparita Karani, Chair Sarvangasana…”

Another time, I joined a group at the rope wall for a standing chest opener. To accommodate more users, each ring has two ropes attached. I erroneously grabbed a rope set (from two rings), thus inadvertently taking an extra spot. Prashant walked over, handed me the right pair, and said quietly, almost gently, “Hold these two.”

IMG_0498Any comments about the hall in general?

The hall is semi-circular, which means that there are no right angles and perpendicular lines. I often felt crooked because I couldn’t align myself the way I do in a square or rectangular room. Very disconcerting!

While most men wore shirts, some always went shirtless during practice. Considering the heat and/or humidity, I hated to imagine their blankets and bolsters soaking with sweat. How about if everyone wears shirts for hygiene and prop maintenance?

Was the restroom clean?

Believe it or not, not once did I set foot in the restroom. (Where is the restroom?) From 6:30am to noon, I didn’t leave the main hall. I managed my fluid intake and trained my body to need infrequent restroom breaks. Why? Well, it’s common knowledge that restrooms in India are less than immaculate, so I avoided public restrooms to the extent possible. At RIMYI, I could always walk to my apartment, a few minutes away, in a pinch.

Go to Part II

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