On teaching...

There's an interesting conversation going around the cybershala on teaching yoga and more specifically on teaching Ashtanga...You can read some thoughts from Nobel, Patrick and Claudia which has gotten me thinking...

I never intended to teach yoga.

I started taking yoga classes in whatever style was cheapest when I was 17...it was 1994. I took generic "hatha" classes, I took vinyasa classes, and I dropped in on some classes that today I'm not even sure what it was exactly. In 2001, I took my first Ashtanga class, a full led primary. After an hour into the class, I was sure I was going to keel over dead at any moment and was definitely sure I wasn't going to make it through the whole class.

I made it through the class and went back.

In late 2002 I moved to Miami and in the spring of 2003, I went to my first Mysore style Ashtanga class. I had found my "yoga home". I was a bit intimidated at the beginning of my first Mysore class while I sorted out how the whole thing worked, but I left that first class delighted with the feeling of being able to steer my own practice under the guidance of a teacher. I had done a home Ashtanga practice for most of a year at that point and found the best of both worlds in the Mysore room.

You know that feeling when you first meet a new boyfriend or girlfriend and you think they're so amazing that you want them to meet every one of your friends, so that each one of your friends will now also know how completely amazing this new person is?

...well, that's how I felt about Mysore style Ashtanga yoga...I was absolutely infatuated!

I spent 4 years in Miami soaking up as much yoga as possible. Every year on my birthday, I took the day off of work and went to the early morning Mysore class. It was a present to myself; there was no where else that I would rather have been.

When, after 4 years, we moved from Miami to a much smaller town, I was a bit heartbroken to leave my teachers. I had searched google and could find no evidence of any Mysore style classes in my new town. One of my teachers said just before I left, "If you don't find what you're looking for in a yoga class there, then you teach it."

I didn't find any Mysore classes in the new town. There was a led class at a local studio that I attended, but it just wasn't the same...and often it left me frustrated. I knew that so much more depth was possible from a yoga practice. I tried convincing the studio owner to try teaching Mysore classes. She wasn't interested. She was of the opinion that any kind of hands-on adjustment was going to cause injury and that I was going to "yoga hell" for even suggesting that they could be helpful. Most frustrating though, was not the lack of adjustments or assists, it was the loss of that feeling of steering my own practice, but with the support and encouragement of someone who had navigated those same waters before me.

...so I did a teacher training...200 hours over the course of about a year and a half.

...and I started a class

For the first year, I taught a class once a week at a community center for free. I had 2, sometimes 3, students. I was honest about how new I was to teaching. I'm fairly certain I learned more than the students did in that year, but they found something in those practices that kept them coming back. For that, I am grateful beyond words.

I did learn some useful, broad perspective sorts of things in the teacher training that I took...but really, what I've learned so far about teaching, has come from 3 places:

1-my own personal, daily practice...daily time on the mat

2-my teaching practice...teaching Mysore and learning from each class

3-from my teachers...guidance and ecouragement that comes from their years of experience

I've been teaching Mysore style Ashtanga yoga for about 4 1/2 years now and practicing for about 10. In the lifetime of an Ashtanga practice, that is barely any time at all.

On a more aware sort of day, I realize that teaching yoga is much like meditation. It's not something you do. It's something that might happen when the conditions are right. My job is to help students learn to set up the right conditions and then get out of the way, so the practice itself can do the teaching. Some days I do a better job than others. My teaching practice, like my personal time on the mat, is exactly that, a practice.

Thoughts on Choosing a Teacher

...so it's been total radio silence on the blog for a couple weeks. The daily schedule ramped up with all kinds of busyness as I got things ready to host my Mysore teacher for a week. I followed up on the Mysore practice week with a few days of vacation in the pacific northwest and then returned and promptly caught a cold. Finally, things are settling back into their places and I'm finding time to get some thoughts out into the blogosphere from an awesome week of practice with my teacher.

...so why have a teacher anyway? Does anyone really need a teacher?

I can't answer those questions for anyone else, but I definitely need a teacher. For me personally, there are two layers of practice that I'm most aware of. (I suspect there are more layers that I'm unaware of.) I am most aware of the layer of physical practice and the layer of mental practice. I have stayed with my current teacher because he has been able to guide me through both.

Here are a few reasons I still practice with the same teacher that I've been practicing with for the past 6 years or so.

1. He won't take me anywhere that I'm not willing to go. He will do his best to encourage and explain new poses, transitions, or deeper expressions of poses, but if I really don't think I should do something at any particular moment, he never forces it.

2. He is continually asking me to see the practice in new ways, so it never gets too comfortable or routine.

3. He's been able to convince me that the impossible is really possible.

4. He's not in a hurry. He's patiently watched my practice evolve over years and has never once suggested that I wasn't moving along fast enough.

5. I trust him, personally and professionally. This trust both comes out of and enables all the qualities I've described above.

As a teacher myself I only hope I can someday guide my students towards the same sense of vision and patience in practice that my teacher has helped me find in mine.

Winter comes to Florida!

Beryl Bender Birch tells a great story about practicing outside with David Swenson at her house in New York on a chilly spring day. It's a great story about the power of ujjai breathing to create heat...even when it's cold!

No one can tell a story like Beryl, so I'll leave the story-telling to her (ask her to tell it if you go to one of her workshops), but in this morning's practice that story kept coming to mind.

Winter has finally arrived in Florida. It either actually froze last night or got very close...our first freeze day this year. Despite the space heater in the studio, I just couldn't seem to warm up! I don't think I ever actually broke a sweat....so I made the focus of practice the ujjai breath. It was a good morning to remember that it's still yoga as long as you're breathing!

Thoughts on "Heart-opening", Vulnerability, and the Ashtanga Intermediate Series

There has been some discussion lately among yoga practitioner friends and colleagues about "heart-opening". I've been a sceptic when it comes to the experience of "heart-opening". All the talk has sounded an awful lot like new age babble to me. The way I have often heard heart-opening described sounded just a little too easy to me. You just stretched the "heart-center" (chest area) and suddenly you were a warm accepting person. In my experience, if it's that easy, then it's not for real.

After a few years of practice in the Ashtanga primary series, I was willing to concede that some emotion was stored in the body. Anger and general stress show up in my body as overall muscle tension...especially in the jaw and shoulders. If I head into my yoga practice still mentally holding on to anger, then I find it very difficult to release the "activity" in any of the muscles. In my body, anger = tight!

Over the past couple years, as I make the transition from primary series practice to second series, I am slowly being convinced of the reality of heart-opening...though not quite in the way it is often described. Heart-opening cannot be coerced or forced. It happens or doesn't like everything else in practice. It's not a warm and fuzzy feeling either. It is intense, uncomfortable, exhilarating, and sometimes downright scary.

What is slowly coming out of second series practice is a willingness to suspend my disbelief. This practice, if I am to do it fully, asks that I be both willing to be vulnerable and willing to move toward fear. This, I think, may be the seed of heart-opening.

There are days when I feel like the intermediate sequence asks too much of me. When life stuff is at its most daunting, there is a feeling of "walking the plank" as I move into that first backbend. I have to make a conscious choice to be willing to open up the body physically which does, as it turns out, also require that I mentally and emotionally open up. If I try to hold back mentally and emotionally, then the muscles themselves will also resist. It seems they are, after all, connected.

Years of practice have created a foundation of trust in this practice and in my teachers. It is this that has allowed for an increasing openness in all aspects of practice on the mat.

The next adventure...watch to see how this will translate off the mat!

Ashtanga Yoga Closing Sequence

I watch myself on those days in practice when I'm kind of looking forward to the end of practice. Maybe I'm feeling tired or maybe my attention is being pulled away from practice by plans for later in the day. These are the days that I catch myself rushing through the closing sequence of postures. It takes some effort to wrestle my attention back to the mat and resume a steady breath.

Ashtanga yoga sometimes gets described as a "yang" practice (as opposed to "yin" yoga). This is probably as a result of the continuous movement and shorter holds in poses compared to some other yoga styles. This is not a complete picture of Ashtanga yoga though. There is a place for longer holds in "restorative" postures in the Ashtanga practice no matter which sequence is being practiced. That place is in the closing sequence of postures (backbends, shoulder stand, headstand, lotus finishing postures).

In my own practice, I try to match the intensity of the overall practice with the energy and time I put into the closing poses. As my practice gets more intense and I work deeper into the body, these postures have been very important for restoring equilibrium and balance both physically and mentally before laying down for rest/savasana.

As the year and semester wrap up and time for practice is sometimes limited, I will keep trying to pay attention and catch myself when I'm rushing towards the end of practice finish line and instead take the time to breath where I am.

Strength and Flexibility in Yoga Practice

I've been noticing an interesting relationship lately between the weather and ease or difficulty in morning yoga practice. I first noticed a long time ago, that in warm humid weather my muscles were considerably more amenable to deep bending and stretching. Lately though, I've been aware of another layer.

Central Florida is finally experiencing some Fall type weather and things are a little cooler and drier. This means I have to work a little harder on breath and bandha to create heat. Fall weather in central Florida can switch from cool and dry to warm and humid at any time though. This has made me much more aware of how the weather can affect tendency toward greater strength or greater flexibility.

While I've been aware for some time that I tended to be more open on warm, humid days, I have more recently noticed that on those same days poses requiring more strength are more likely to fall apart. On the cooler, drier mornings, poses requiring more strength than flexibility (i.e. laguvajrasana or arm balances) often feel stronger and steadier.

I try not to get too attached to either version of practice as it's all likely to change again tomorrow anyway. It makes me wonder a bit though about all the factors outside myself that I allow to influence my steadiness and flexibility (in the broader sense) when I step off the mat and start the rest of my day. I am hopeful that the practice of catching myself when I'm feeling attached to any one expression of a pose in yoga practice will translate to catching myself when I'm feeling attached to any particular circumstance off the mat.

These are the things that I love about the Ashtanga yoga practice...the discoveries and the work never end!

Thoughts on Yoga Practice during the Holidays

Over the past few days, I've been thinking about how difficult it can be to keep doing your daily yoga practice during the big holidays. Often, there is a bit...sometimes a lot...of stress that goes with these holidays. It seems that the times when I need my practice the most are some of the times that it is most difficult to make the time to practice. There are often lots of expectations and demands on our time over these few weeks. I have found though, that making the time to maintain my yoga practice is worth it, even if it means I let some other activities go during the holidays. If I keep up with a daily yoga practice, I have far more energy to share with family and friends.

Here's some of my thoughts on how I keep practicing during the holidays:

I travel with a yoga mat. I have a small, light weight mat that is fairly easy to pack into a car or take on a plane. If I bring the mat, it's there reminding me to practice!

I get creative about where to practice....hallways, kitchens, porches, even large bathrooms will work. Really, any mat sized space will do.

I look up class schedules for Yoga Studios in cities where I'm visiting. It's fun for me to practice with new groups of people and I now have several "studios away from home" that I look forward to visiting when I'm in town.

Finally, I try not to over do it when I'm visiting family and making time for practice. I do some shorter, abbreviated practices when time is short. No one in my family is going to wait on me to finish a 2-hour yoga practice on Christmas morning! So, I work to find a happy medium. I do a short practice and then move on to enjoying some quality time with my family.

Anyone have other ways to keep up with yoga practice during busy times and while traveling? I'd love to hear what works for everyone else!

Discernment in Practice

If you watched the great video clip of Beryl Bender Birch I posted recently, you know that she wisely said that she doesn't feel she can teach anyone how to teach. She can only show them how she practices.

So to everyone who has asked me "How do I practice at home?", I have to say there is not one answer to that, but I will describe a little bit about how I practice at home and hope that is helpful to those who have asked the question.

Regular practice at home without a teacher present or the sounds of others breathing is not easy, but like lots of not so easy things, it is very rewarding. One of the layers that is slowly peeling back in my home practice is leaving a sharper awareness of discernment. For me this has been a long time coming. One of the most difficult things for me to judge when I first began practicing at home was when to push the edge and challenge myself and when to back off or even cut the practice short that day. There have been days when I continued on with practice when I should have heeded my body's suggestion to stop. There have also been days where I have done only what was familiar and comfortable when I had the energy and focus for challenge.
Only doing the daily practice itself has provided a way in to discern what was appropriate for any particular moment. Paradoxically, the way to learn how to practice at home, is to just start practicing at home. Part of home practice for me is learning to accept in that moment whatever comes up in practice and letting go of whatever expectations I might be harboring about how the practice should go. Again, definitely not easy, some days easier to practice than others, but always worth it.

Moon Days

Traditionally, Ashtanga yoga is not practiced on the day of the full moon or new moon....but why??

The best explanation I have read comes from Tim Miller's website. Tim is one of the most senior Ashtanga teachers in the west.
Here's a link to what Tim has to say on moon days:

http://www.ashtangayogacenter.com/moon.html

In my own practice, sometimes I do practice on moon days and sometimes I don't. I try to be mindful of my energy level and let that dictate how much asana practice I do on those days.

I am curious how other practicioners feel about practice on moon days. Anyone want to chime in on this?

It's a Breathing Practice!

Over the past year or so, my teacher has added some challenging poses to my yoga practice. It seems that at just the moment when I start to feel all pleased with myself about "what I can do", my teacher adds another layer of depth to my practice! ...which is as it should be and one of the many reasons I continue to practice with him. :)

Slowly over the past few weeks though, it has become very apparent to me that in the the places where I am challenged, I rush the breath. Suddenly 5 breaths sounds more like 3 breaths! So, my new work: take 5 full complete breaths in the intense, challenging poses and transitions.

It has made me wonder, if I'm rushing through the places in my yoga practice that are uncomfortable, then what else in life am I rushing through...and maybe missing out on due to discomfort?

Ashtanga yoga practice really is a breathing practice. The physical postures have multiple purposes in the practice, but I really think one of the primary reasons for the poses is to challenge the breath. Lengthening the breath and really working for a steady breath in challenging postures forces me to "lean into" the intense poses....and therein lies the work that brings about transformation in practice!

Beauty in Practice

A student practicing behind me at a class this week complemented me on my practice as we were walking out of the studio. I appreciate their kind words, but I really think that it is the practice itself that is beautiful regardless of who is doing the practicing. While advanced practicioners may demonstrate the grace and control that is possible after many years, beginning practice has its own beauty. If you have never had the chance to watch an Ashtanga yoga practice, I encourage you to go to Youtube and search "Ashtanga yoga". You will find clips of every stage of practice...and they are ALL beautiful to watch.

Part 3: Why Mysore Style?

"Mysore practice is like being the driver in a car on a trip to somewhere new for the first time. Led practice is more like being the passenger in that car. You may be able to find your way back to the destination a second time having been either the driver or the passenger, but chances are good that you were paying more attention if you were doing the driving."

-paraphrased from Beryl Bender Birch (unfortunately, I didn't write down her exact quote in class)


Okay, last and final post on practice styles, for awhile anyway. Next week will include a daily post on the each of the 5 days of the Mysore workshop with David Keil...so I guess this still isn't the last word exactly...

so a few more ramblings about practice styles...

-When you memorize a sequence of poses to practice, then you can practice anywhere! Nothing is holding you back.

-Muscle memory of what is next in the sequence removes the need to "think". I have found more space to keep awareness on what I'm feeling in practice when I don't have to think about it. Since in my day job I'm a biologist, I already spend quite a bit of time "in my head" analyzing things. It's been very liberating to have some small bit of time each day where I work less analytically and more intuitively.

-I cannot pay attention to more than one thing at a time. I'm just not a talented multitasker. So, if I'm listening to a teacher guide the class, then I'm not listening to my breath. Same thing happens to me visually. If I'm watching a demonstration by the teacher then I'm not keep my eyes steady on the gazing point for the pose. Only when the outside stimulus is minimal am I able to shift the focus from the external to the internal world. I am hopeful that this skill to will build in the same way that the physical practice grows over time. I would love to see that day when I can keep steady concentration no matter what's happening! Until then, I have lots of practice to do and in my own practice I need to minimize the external stimulus to learn the skill of paying attention....which means mostly Mysore practice for me.

-I have become far more aware of the pace and strength of my breath when I'm initiating the pace. There is more room then for the normal daily variations in pace and strength.

-A different kind of relationship has developed with the teachers that have worked with me in a Mysore class. I have been less apt to take suggestions as criticism when they are offered one on one with very specific intent. A greater level of trust has developed which has given me more confidence to "dig a little deeper" in practice.

There is often a tendency to place something we are familiar with, say aerobics class, around something unfamiliar, say yoga, and make it fit. I've found the greatest benefits from yoga when I stopped trying to force it into an "aerobics class" format and worked at it more like I learned to play the piano as a kid. The same analogy would work with sports if you're not a music person. To learn any new skill, you begin with the fundamentals, not with the flamboyant. In piano, you begin with scales not Bach. In order to someday play well, there is lots of daily practice. It is finally when you can stop thinking about the small details like what notes come next, that you can express larger themes of the music intuitively.
That is really my best explanation of Mysore style Ashtanga yoga practice.

Part 2 of Why Practice Mysore Style?

If you ask the question, "Why do you do yoga practice in the Mysore style?", you will likely get a different answer from everyone that you ask. My own answer comes from my own practice.
...so part 2 of this series describes some of my experience in both Led and Mysore style Ashtanga yoga classes.

My first Ashtanga class was a Led style class. The instructor stood at the front of the room and described/demonstrated the poses. The class followed along with everyone attempting the same poses together. Although I had been attending yoga classes in other styles for a couple years, this was my first Ashtanga class. After the first hour of class, I was really starting to wonder if I would make it through the rest of the class! It was too much for my body all at once.

A few months later, I moved to a different city and tried a Mysore style class. I had an entirely different expereince. Moving at my own pace with no verbal or visual guide was both intimidating and liberating. On the one hand, I wasn't sure if I was doing poses "right". On the other hand it was much easier to really focus in on what was happening in my body without either rushing to keep up or waiting for others to catch up.

My first Mysore class was 7 years ago and my bias in my personal practice has been for Mysore style classes ever since. It was the aspects of learning to practice in the Mysore style that really made it possible for me to develop a steady, consistent, and daily home practice when no classes or teachers were available. It was that daily practice that really began to provide all the benefits that are attributed to yoga.

Now, years later in my practice, I've found that there are of course, benefits to both ways of practice...so...next and final installment on Ashtanga yoga practice styles: Benefits of Led and Mysore styles of Ashtanga yoga practice

Stay tuned...

"I can't go back to yesterday - because I was a different person then." ---Lewis Carroll

I've mentioned before that one of the mistakes that I make from time to time in home practice is trying to do too much. If I did a pose one day, then I should be able to do it the same way the next day, right? Well, no actually.

I'm a slow learner when it comes to this sort of thing. It has taken some time to pry the fingers of ego off of daily yoga practice. It has been easy to want to acheive. On the other hand, it has been very rewarding and humbling to play each daily practice as it comes. That too starts to play with perspectice in life outside of yoga practice. Starting each daily yoga practice without an agenda has been a practice in itself.

Practicing 6 Impossible Things Before Breakfast

"I can't believe that!" said Alice
"Can't you?" the queen said in a pitying tone. "Try again. Draw a long breath, and shut your eyes."
Alice laughed. "There's no use trying," she said. "One can't believe impossible things."
"I dare say you haven't had much practice," said the queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." --Lewis Carroll

I've been a big fan of all Lewis Carroll's books since I first read Alice in Wonderland. Nowhere else have I read so much that sounds nonsensical and yet is so true! The longer I do this yoga practice, the more I'm aware of the times I let "impossibility" get in the way of great opportunity. One of the things that has amazed me most about my teacher and one of the primary reasons I return again and again to practice with him is his gifted ability to convince me that anything is possible. Daily practice of the "impossible" in yoga practice started to bleed into the rest of life at some point. It all started by "believing six impossible things before breakfast".

Primary Series: Paddling in Place

Donald Miller, an author that I respect, wrote a great blog post about the parallels between writing a book and paddling a boat across a large body of water (think really big lake, or a bit of ocean).
To paraphrase: He likens the excited feeling of starting out in the boat to that of starting out on a new story. The early bit goes fast. You feel like you'll be at the end in no time. Then, you get into the middle. The middle is the sticky part where you feel like you're paddling in place and getting nowhere. Yet, the middle is the place that really changes you. (End of paraphrase here...additional note: I'm not doing his writing justice, you should really read the blog, and I was just far too lazy to quote it verbatim).

For years, the primary series was like that for me. The first part of the series was a steady practice early on. It came quickly. Then I spent years paddling in place in Supta Kurmasana feeling like it was never going to change. Only after arriving at the other side and spending a couple years paddling in second series did I start to understand what my teacher meant when he said "Supta Kurmasana is one of the most transformational poses in the primary series." After sharing this with a student who was having his own experiences with Supta Kurmasana I heard my own earlier thoughts spoken back to me. The student said in a skeptical voice "Well, if that's what transformation feels like." And so it does sometimes feel a bit like paddling in place.

Practice

I woke up feeling like I had been run over by a truck yesterday, for no particular reason. I had eaten well the day before and gone to sleep at my usual time...just one of those days. So, I opted for a restorative practice yesterday morning. It looked a lot like a short Ashtanga practice, because that's what it was and because Ashtanga is a restorative practice. Sometimes I just need to dial down the intensity.

Relaxing the Grip in the Framework of Tradition

So I read this from Pema Chodron's book "When Things Fall Apart"...
"In his own way, Trungpa Rinpoche devised such a course for his students. He'd have us memorize certain chants, and a few moths after most of us knew them, he'd change the wording. He'd teach us specific rituals and be extremely precise about how they should be done. Just about the time we began criticizing people who did them wrong, he'd teach the rituals in a completely different way. After years of this sort of training, one begins to relax one's grip."

After reading this, my first thought was "Ah, that's just like Ashtanga yoga!" My second thought was " Wow, I still have a lot of work to do as far as "relaxing the grip"! I like structure and routine. It gives a certain amount of background familiarity to the chaos of everyday life. I generally don't like surprises, even the good ones. I like time to mull over and prepare for what's coming next.

When I started an Ashtanga yoga practice, I thought it was great. We do the same poses in the same order every day. There is a system and an order. It only took a short amount of regular practice to discover that while we may do triangle pose or a standing forward bend everyday, it is never the same triangle pose or forward bend twice. No two practices are ever the same.

I often have the feeling that my teacher is watching my practice for those places where I'm just a little too comfortable. It seems to be just that moment when he appears next to me asking me to change some aspect of a pose. Almost always the first sensation that I notice is mental resistance. I don't want to change it. What I'm doing now is comfortable and familiar. So the work in practice for me is often to "relax the grip". I think because Ashtanga yoga provides such a precise structure I have been able to begin the work of relaxing my grip on "how things should be". It has made all the difference for me to have the structure to push against.

Fear in Practice

I like to give examples to my students of why yoga asana practice in the studio is also practice for life. It's an important moment when they realize that they probably can do something (say a backbend or a handstand) but they are afraid of it. They're physically ready and able to do the pose, yet it still brings up fear. I almost always say the same thing. Asana practice is a good place to practice doing what you're afraid of every day.

I'm not talking about being afraid of injury or a fear of straining something by doing a pose. That's an entirely different subject. I'm talking about unattached elemental fear. In practice we learn to do what we're afraid of despite the feeling of fear. When that process is familiar it's something that accompanies us into the rest of life. A feeling of confidence builds when fear comes up and you stay with the practice. This has been one of the greatest benefits of yoga practice for me. It's both an exhilarating and humbling practice and I have at least a lifetime's worth of work still to do!

I came across this great quote in a book by Kathy Dobie. It was attributed to anonymous in the book. "No interesting project can be embarked on without fear. I shall be scared to death half the time."

The Evolution of Driste

I've been wanting to write about driste but have had so many thoughts on the subject as my practice has changed over the years that I wasn't sure where to start or where to end! ...so I suspect more posts on driste will follow this one. Driste is Sanskrit for "gazing place" in yoga. In Ashtanga yoga there are 9 places you might hold the gaze in asana practice. As most students know, where your gaze goes, your thoughts and body tend to follow. Balance can be tricky if my gaze is on what my husband is practicing next to me or what the birds are doing in the yard. Yet, after awhile, it is possible to shift the gaze in a pose (I'm thinking specifically of utthita hasta padangustasana here. :) and not take your thoughts and balance with it. There was a great post by Karen recently on the evolution of driste in her practice. I think this is a great example of the 8 limbs of Ashtanga overlapping and intersecting. We do asana practice with driste (the third limb) and when we have a moment where the thoughts do not follow the gaze, we experience pratyahara (sense withdrawl) which is actually the fifth limb! So, after learning to keep the senses steady on one sensory input (one gazing point) we can learn to remove the senses from the input entirely (pratyahara). This practice never stops amazing me!