Questions Around Town
What does it mean to practice yoga asana? Who gets to do it? What does it mean to be good at it?

@ Liz Lerman Dance Exchange, 9/19
What does it mean to practice yoga asana? Who gets to do it? What does it mean to be good at it?

@ Liz Lerman Dance Exchange, 9/19
I have not picked up a snake since junior high when I was old enough to begin working and the days playing in streams and ponds pretty much came to an end. It’s not something one forgets. And today, there was a black rat snake in the garden (Note: they are harmless and eat small rodents.)
By the time I noticed what was going on, it he snake was completely terrified from having been pulled out from under some heavy farm equipment with a rake. The goal was to bring it to the woods behind the garden, but first to make sure it did not get caught in the machinery.
I invited myself into the fray, gently and securely held the snake about an inch below its head, invited its release from below the rake, and then gave it my other arm for it to wrap around, and it hugged me around my back and to the top of the arm that was holding its head.
Someone else opened the garden gate and I went into the trees and released it into the underbrush. I doubt it helped that I talked softly to it, acknowledging its fear, and apologizing for dislocating it.
It felt like an honor to have this short dance. The musky odor was not so nice; I also appreciated it as a very cool super power.
I found myself thinking about the blessing of being able to ask this question and have a multiple answers: what do you do when your healing place/activity is temporarily or permanently no longer healthy?
I asked this question of myself today because the poor air quality from the wildfires is not good for me, and it is not feeling good to be at the Youth Garden for the full morning. I’ve been grateful before for the panoply of practices—study, meditation (sitting and walking), breath work, asana and other movement, etc., when I have been sick or injured.

One of the aims of yoga, according to Patanjali’s classic eight-limbed path of yoga, is to be free from being torn between the pairs of opposites — pleasure and pain. We cannot be free if we are always grasping at pleasure or acting to avoid pain. From a tantric perspective, we are not trying to disengage or transcend body and mind and the natural arising of pleasure and pain, but we still want to be engaged without an attachment or aversion that leads us into entanglement and suffering rather than towards openness and light.
One of the kleshas (afflictions) is dvesa, which can be translated as hate, dislike, abhorrence, enmity, avoidance. Why wouldn’t we want just to avoid something that we dislike? Sometimes we have no choice, and one of the benefits of yoga is helping us make peace with having to face or be engaged with things that are painful or distasteful.
I often hear students say, “I hate [insert name of pose].” Last night, I heard it twice. I am no stranger to the “I have to go to the bathroom poses,” the poses which are so challenging or uncomfortable, that I feel the need to leave the room. One of the most profound ways I have grown with yoga, though, is staying present for the poses that did not initially appeal to me, usually those that pushed my fear, trust, strength, anxiety, worthiness buttons. One of the obvious superficial benefits of staying present and practicing the “I hate” poses is that they can yield an extra sense of accomplishment when we get them. We can also learn more about our friends and colleagues by starting to understand why the poses are the ones that naturally draw them and thus expand our perspective on the fullness of life.
For example, arm balances are still most challenging for me, partly because I am more flexible than I am strong, and partly because I am fearful of falling. I’ve started to appreciate how another person could be drawn to them for the exhilaration, the rush of danger, the excitement, the challenge, the very topsy-turvyness of the poses, although those aren’t sensations to which I am naturally drawn. But I have learned how much practicing arm balances fuels the energy in my core and heart and when I get them, what it must feel like to fly.
The teacher’s duty (and I have been blessed with wonderful teachers who have given me this gift) is to offer the full range of experiences (within the parameters of the class level, style of yoga, and class description), so that every student gets to practice both favorites and least favorites. This is not so much to make sure that every student gets a favorite sometimes and so is happy in the class when the favorite shows up, but so that the students are invited to be present, grounded, and open to his or her own light through the full range of delights and challenges. On a day when I just get my favorites, I feel like I have been to the spa. The real pleasure from yoga has been from the challenging poses over the long term. It has been steadily coming to the challenge that has started easing my reactions off the mat to the inevitable challenges, pain, and losses of a full and active life. In being less reactive to challenges, I also find I crave specific pleasures less, and so enjoy the pleasures that come all the more.
Yoga home practice challenge: pick one pose for which the phrase, “I hate…” usually proceeds it and make it an element of your weekly home practice for a month. Witness your reactions on and off the mat. Enjoy what happens next time the pose comes up in a class. Maybe the phrase “I hate” will stop arising as soon as you hear the teacher name the pose.
If the pose on offer does not work for you, do whatever ever poses will be most efficacious in the moment.
