The Yoga Space

Michele began her 8 week Ashtanga workshop today and it is going to be a blast! One of our dear students Catherine Such wrote a sublimely authentic account of her experience below. THANKS CATHERINE!

“It’s all about the transitions.” – Michele Lowe

For four years, I did yoga occasionally. I liked the stretching, the breathing, the sense of calm. But I wasn’t serious enough to have imagined I’d be working toward a daily ashtanga practice. I considered ashtanga hard and esoteric. The primary series seemed forever elusive. I couldn’t have fathomed taking just one workshop, let alone two. And yet? Here I am, in the bright January sunlight of the Yoga Space, with 17 other people listening to Michele talk about the eight limbs of yoga, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be.

It’s amazing what can happen in life, if you let it.

In today’s class, we worked on just a few things. We chanted, a lovely communal sound with so many people. We breathed. We worked on suryanmaskara A & B. And then we worked on them some more.

I don’t embody pop culture images of yoga. I’m 42 with no history of physical practice. My life often lacks balance. I don’t seek equanimity. I’m decidedly not thin and I still really like caffeine, red wine, and butter. When I have to take off my glasses because I’m sweating, I have a very hard time with the gaze, or drishti (and I can’t see my teacher’s cues from more than 10 inches away, so I’m often oblivious).

But I keep at it, because I love ashtanga’s complex simplicity, and it turns out? Regular practice brings about meaningful change – physical, mental, and otherwise. The primary series is an orderly, rational, and humbling set of asana. And because the poses are always the same, it’s possible to observe how you are progressing over time. It’s slow, which can sometimes be hard. But it happens.

Today, Michele emphasized transitions. We hopped. We jumped back. We jumped forward. During my graceless transition to triangle (trikonasana), I fell over. Amy and Heather were on either side of me, and I’m hoping they didn’t notice. Since they showed every sign of dharana, or concentration, on their own practice, probably they didn’t. I hopped again. It was better the second time.

We examined downward dog. I could hear the brilliant Johnny Haag at Mysore self practice telling me, “It’s not a resting pose.” Ain’t that the truth, Brother Johnny. Shoulders – externally rotated. Elbows – not hyperextended. Weight to the thumb and forefinger.  Spine stretched but not sagging. Not too much prana. Deep crease in the hips. Heels to the ground, feet straight. Breathe. Criminey. I’ve been doing yoga for four years, I’ve downward dogged hundreds, no, thousands of times, and suddenly I didn’t know where my hips were. Frustrated, I popped fully out of the moment only to notice the dog hair on my yoga pants. I hoped Michele wouldn’t come over.

Michele came over. We talked about transitions. Because I still have an ego, and ego brings with it attractions to poses, I am pretty pleased with my transition from extended side angle to revolved side angle. Michele was less impressed, so we went through the transition again and again. I’m grateful I’ve become accustomed to rigorous movement during the last few months. As recently as September, I couldn’t have managed this even once, much less the several times Michele led me through it. Back to downward dog, and for a moment, breath and body, movement and concentration aligned. I could see what it is we’re doing here. Those are the moments that matter.

Here’s the thing about ashtanga: it’ll give back as much as you give it. As a beginner, I’m grateful for the intelligence of the postures and their sequence. I notice the simple beauty of how every day at practice is the same, and every day at practice is totally different. And I, who have lived entirely in my own head, am delighted by daily ashtanga – to my endless astonishment. I’m looking forward to seeing what other transitions happen for me, and for my fellow travelers, during these next seven weeks.

-Catherine

First of all, HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I think everyone enjoys the thought of starting a new year; I know I like the idea of clearing the slate, creating new intentions and letting go of those old attachments. The first day always feels so good, but then by day twelve, I’ve somehow lost my way and fallen into familiar patterns. At this point I have a choice… prior to developing my practice, I would usually give up and allow the wave of pattern making to wash over me and cut the path for the rest of my year. I would often chide myself (and frankly I still do this much to often), thinking maybe next year, I’ve done it again. This is one pattern I’ve begun to change, which I am grateful for.

I try to think of this as a three step process (to completely oversimplify what is really an eightfold path)…

The first part of this, is letting go of the idea of failing. In our practice we try find a place of non-attachment, where we are no better or worse than the person on the mat next to us, than we were yesterday, or last year. We are just are. Change is constant. Some days we will touch our toes, other days we can barely get to our knees. Taking judgement out of the equation helps me reframe my perspective and continue moving forward, rather than looping back to guilt and anger.

The second part is seeking authentic experiences. This is the reason the new year holds so much appeal. It is the promise of a fresh start. This is the most difficult step for me. To use a terrible analogy, I think of it as every experience I’ve ever had compacted into a pair of glasses. When I’m wearing these glasses they tint every new experience I have and color it with baggage from my past. Even saying hello can be an automatic response void of feeling. This is the mindfulness component. How do I realize that each and every interaction is completely unique and there will never be another one quite the same? Sometimes, I get glimpses of this when I have a heartfelt conversation, a deep connection with someone, a moment during my practice where breath and body truly meet, or that stillness of meditation overcomes me. Being in denial is not part of this practice, valuing truth over self preservation is a hard pill to swallow. Sometimes it doesn’t feel that great, but then I come back to the first step trying not to attach judgement. When it becomes difficult, putting yourself aside and serving someone else will always be an eye opener in the authenticity department.

The third part is doing it over and over again. Practice makes perfect! Or if not perfect, at least experienced.

I wish you a happy new year full of love and authentic experiences.

xo

hh

Any yogi who has spent some time with the practice likely comes to ask herself, ‘why do I practice yoga?’  

Certainly a singular answer could never capture the simultaneous simplicity and complexity of this path.  Often times, when I wax poetic on the virtues of this practice, I find myself in contradiction- making some kind of definitive statement only moments later to find its opposite equally as valid.  

Consider vriksasana, tree pose; We are asked to experience opposing sensations in the body, finding strength and stability in the lower body, the compression of the foot against the thigh, the thigh into the foot while also seeking expansion from the lift of the spine, crown and finger tips.  Perhaps it is in these moments, through the body, where we begin to awaken to an awareness of a deeper truth- namely that human experience is so vast that it encompasses what we typically think of as forces in opposition; It is in the balancing of these forces that we begin to still the oscillations around the center, finding balance, stability and harmony.  Each asana, each shape offers a unique inroad into this wisdom.

Echoing one translation of Patanjali’s second sutra states, ‘the practice of yoga stills the fluctuations of the mind.” This balancing act is perhaps ongoing for our lifetimes- and like our tree pose we can’t help but fall from time to time. But, even more than effort and strength, which life unquestionably demands of us from time to time, moving towards balance and inner repose requires the kind of discernment which can only be cultivated with deep listening- with bringing the mind into the body and asking, ‘what serves me right now?’  ‘As i seek center, do I need more effort or more release?’  ‘How do I move my whole self here to serve the highest expression of this shape?’ Muscles, bones, breath, thoughts- ever finer subtle layers begin aligning in harmonic unison.  And then when we have it just right, it is no longer- teaching us that everything, like the breath arises, exists and retreats.

Regardless of what arises, we stay engaged, we stay present.

Our practice reaches far beyond mere exercise, although there can be no doubt that asana is good for the body.  What I believe we are cultivating is a deep listening to the innermost parts of self, beginning with our corporeal material, our body.  One need only look around at the state of the world to see that this kind of internal work is of absolute necessity if we desire to live in peace collectively.  

This practice isn’t always easy- we are human after all.  But in the same breath that allows for a bit of slack with respect to our imperfections is the acknowledgement that being human, being capable, being conscious is awe inspiring and both a tremendous gift and responsibility.  We can acknowledge our faults and finding both strength and compassion coupled with keen awareness can learn and grow.  We are gifted with the rational faculty and the experiences of self-awareness and right-mindedness separates us from all other animals.

How truly wonderful it can be to seek this expression of beauty from the inside out!  The harrowing work of turning inward, of excavating and purifying the self to touch on that part of us that shines outward from within uplifts each of us and inspires the same among all those whom this beauty reaches.  

As daylight declines and we approach the long winter, allow your inner radiance to reveal itself.

Namaste.

rs