When I took class tonight with Kate Miller at Willow Street, she reminded us that yesterday was the 13th anniversary of Anusara yoga’s officially being Anusara yoga. How delightful to celebrate with each other this yoga that invites us to play, to dance, to celebrate each other and ourselves.
This weekend, a friend whose marriage of decades is precipitating towards dissolution, said to me, “I am having trouble reconciling being yogic and still needing to do what I need to do in connection with divorce. How do I deal with that?” I told her about a yoga principle I learned at the first Inner Harmony Retreat I attended with John Friend in the summer of 2003. He had asked a student a question that yielded as the answer the four yoga principles of ardha (physical and material well-being), kama (relationship, including intimate and love relationships), dharma (life path or work), and moksha (liberation or freedom). The fellow student answering the question, who was also my teacher, gave the classic yoga explanation that we try to do the first three elements in alignment so that we can then transcend and go beyond them to become free (enlightened). John replied that was the traditionally correct answer in dualist, classical yoga, but that from the tantric perspective of a person living in the world as a yogi, we look apply the principles differently. By living in a way that we have taken care of our physical and material well-being, have happy and loving relationships, and work with delight and passion that we will be embodying a life of the spirit; we will then be living and embodying freedom (jivanmukti). That encapsulation of tantric yoga resonated deeply and is a significant part of why I have chosen a path of tantric yoga rather than one that preaches renouncing the body and mind (which I think is impossible for one staying in the world).
My friend’s question seemed especially significant to me in light of the dialogue that has ensued following the publication of the New York Times article on John Friend, John’s blog in response, and the Elephant Journal interview. The essence of the article and the reactions, to me, seem to be about the intersection of our “outer” notions of societal success–fame and fortune–and yoga and whether the two can be reconciled. The New York Times article is obviously intended to be sensational and to create controversy; that is what makes a journalist who gets fame and fortune. But the alleged tension highlighted in the article is indicative of a bigger societal confusion of how and whether we can be spiritual or religious beings and also have human needs and wants. Ours is a society that hungers for panaceas and palliatives. In “discovering” yoga and its benefits in the late 20th century, far too many have put onto it expectations that have no basis in what is yoga and how it is supposed to aid us.
There is no word in yoga philosophy or in India for “yogic.” The word “yogic” is a western creation of relatively recent vintage. Webster’s dictionary does not have it as a separate word, but just has it at the end of the definition of “yoga” as “adj, often capitalized.” What do we mean by being “yogic?” It seems that we have gotten this notion that if we practice yoga seriously or teach it, that means we must be perfectly pure and good. We will need only light and air to nourish our bodies (and maybe a little local raw food in season); we will have neither needs nor desires; we will be so suffused with peace, compassion, and equanimity, that we never feel or show anger or grief, even in the face of injustice, violence, pain, or outrageous behavior. We expect that somehow we will be a perfect monk while still living with family and going to work.
We expect this not only of ourselves, but even more so of our teachers. In essence, we somehow expect yoga to release us from the realities of being human. To have such expectations inevitably will lead to disappointment in ourselves and our teachers (for being unable to reach this impossible ideal) or in the practice (both for not yielding this ideal and for, in our delusion, creating this expectation in the first place). My meditation and philosophy teacher Paul Muller-Ortega would say that to have such expectations is “adolescent” spirituality. When we practice “adult” spirituality, we take responsibility for ourselves and our own practice. We expect our teachers to offer us the teachings, but we honor and recognize them as human beings.
To practice yoga sincerely while still living in the world should make us more humane to ourselves and to all around us, not beyond being human. This is the true essence of Anusara yoga. To be richly and freely and wonderfully human and feel great love and compassion for that, even as we balance the realities of life with attempts to live in greater alignment. I am incredibly grateful for the teachings and the community that John Friend has created and the offering to study and get as deeply into the yoga as makes sense for me. Whether there are things I might do differently in the realm of ardha, kama, or dharma if I were “the yoga mogul” is of little moment because to find moksha we all strive to do our best in our own way (and one thing I know of John is that he always strives to do his best).
I woke and dressed myself as early as if it were a work day to take the metro and then the bus to the little playground/park where we entered the creek. It was already promising today’s humid heat in the sun, but it was pleasant in the shade. The group was a good size. Large enough to get some work done, but small enough to stay easily connected. We divided the work — path or creek — based on who wore which shoes, which allocated the cleaning well.
It was a beautiful way to appreciate off the mat the Anusara axioms, “look for the good,” and “respond from the highest.” As you can see from the pictures, Long Branch Creek is a lovely sanctuary of greenery and running water. It is evidently not fresh, but it is still giving its all. We could see the beauty, but also recognize that the creek could more powerfully share the energy of nature if it was not so dirty. Rather than complain that the creek was dirty and dangerous and stay away from it, we were invited to appreciate both what it is and what it could be and got our feet wet and ourselves dirty to be with the creek. I wish it weren’t necessary, and I will be looking for more ways to try and contribute less waste, but I think in the meantime, it would be right to do this more often.
I am writing this post as I sit on the Metro platform at Takoma, waiting for a train back to Union Station. There were already dozens of people waiting when I got here. I have been here for ten minutes or so, and there is no time posted on the board yet for the next train.
Some people are talking on their phones or socializing with each other. Some are pacing back and forth. Some look resigned. Some are going into tirades about the problems with Metro. Some are reading and have made themselves more or less at home where they are.
I sit cross-legged, basking in the sun, blogging for now, and if time permits also in my journal. I could be angry or impatient or annoyed, but it would not get me home any sooner. So I just find enjoyment of the waiting time with the materials at hand.
Although there are circumstances where physical pain or suffering cannot be avoided, yoga can help us find a greater sense of equanimity when we are challenged. As John Friend reminded us this week in a different context, “in a large part, it will be seen that the suffering is optional.”
I now approach Union Station. Perhaps when I get home I will supplement this post with appropriate citations to Patanjali. Or maybe I will play with the cats and pick some grrens from the garden for dinner.
One of the primary themes at the Anusara certified teachers’ gathering this week with John Friend has been how discipline and technique serve our yoga. In keeping with the elemental Anusara principles of “attitude, alignment, and action” (iccha, jnana, kriya), the point has not been to emphasize rules for the sake of rules, form over substance, or technique for its own sake. Mastering technique, by itself, will not bring us to the ultimate intentions of yoga: living liberated (jivamukti), experiencing the very wonder, bliss, and dance of being.
But just playing or seeking freedom for its own sake, while we are embodied in human form, will not likely lead us to the most expansive and steady experience of ultimate freedom (svatantra). It is discipline and technique with the constant remembrance of the reaon for being disciplined about how we practice and live that will take us further on the path.
It can be nice, for example to go to a class where there is little emphasis on form, and the call is just to flow and feel. For me, though, because of my physical limitations (degeneration in my spine, old groin injury, etc–these do not define my being; they just inform how I practice), I feel far freer and more able to expand how much I can play the more attention I give to the physical alignment. In such a situation, the rigorous attention to detail is not for the sake of an external idea of what is right and what is wrong. Rather, it is the constant disciplined attention to alignment that frees me to play as free from injury, pain, and fear of injury as is possible in my body.
The discipline then becomes a way of self-affirmation. It is the limitations that lead me to have to focus more on technique than if I did not have the limitations. That attention then provides a ground for a more expansive practice and a deeper appreciation for the beauty of what the practice can offer.
A key therapeutic alignment principle is “curvature before length.” This in essence means that we want to get our skeleton into the basic form of its “optimal blueprint” before trying to create length or extension. Making sure the spine has the four curves it is meant to have — the sacral curve is convex, the lumbar curve concave, thoracic curve convex, cervical curve concave — does not only alleviate issues stemming from the spine, but helps the thigh bones fit better into the hip socket and the arm bones into the shoulder sockets.
How do we get curvature before length? It is just doing the Anusara principles in the sequence we are taught them: inner or expanding spiral, as it takes the thighs back, out, and apart, enhances the curve in the lumbar spine. We do inner spiral before outer spiral, which in addition to toning the low back and gluteal muscles, lengthens the low back. We do shoulder loop, which in addition to integrative the shoulders and hugging the shoulder blades onto the back of the heart, provides curve for the cervical spine. We only do skull loop, which lengthens the cervical spine, after we have done the integrating and curve-enhancing action of shoulder loop.
If you think about the shape of the body from that perspective, it makes perfect sense that you would want to shape and integrate before pulling, stretching, or extending. It is very hard to create a curve or integrate something if it is already pulled or stretched to or beyond its limit. In its broadest sense, “curvature before length” serves us the way “start with the foundation” serves us. We get into the right space and shape before going full out. With the open attitude fostered by “first principle” (remember, first principle is always first no matter what is the focus of your class, your practice, or whatever you are doing on or off the mat), the basic alignment must come ahead of striving to expand further into a pose. With curvature before length, we heal and grow. If we try length before curvature, we might feel stretched for a moment, but may feel worse afterwards or will only have temporary relief.