New Yogaview! And a Day to Honor Ashtanga.

I am very excited to be on the schedule at Yogaview/Division opening Tuesday May 26th! My classes will be at 4 pm on Mondays and Fridays. I hope you can check out my classes there sometime. For more info stay tuned into the Yogaview Web site.

It's heartening to walk into a freshly painted, beautiful yoga space, and to imagine the classes that might happen there and the people who might come through. And I imagine myself learning more through teaching at this new venue. There is a lovely fountain burbling in the back courtyard. Love it!

Strangely enough on this very same day that I was dreaming a yoga future, there was also the passing of an important teacher of yoga, the founder of Ashtanga yoga: Sri K. Pattabhi Jois. I feel sad as I connect with these thoughts. He was 93 years old. I never met him, and yet through his teaching he has affected so many people, including friends, and including myself. His Primary Series gave me enough to chew on for a long time. I learned so much about myself as I hit my mat to practice this way. It was the first time that I trusted a process that I didn't understand. Even when I got injured I trusted that my body was working something out. This trusting initiated radical transformation in myself that is still in process. I am so grateful for the lessons learned in the sweaty yoga dojo. Blessings to all the people who have been affected by this practice!

So on this day that I was dreamily projecting forward, I also found myself rooting deeply into my past, and thankfully I spent many moments in the present. Wonderful life! 

Honoring the Inside

The five senses are used to quest outward, tasting, touching, smelling, hearing and seeing our way through the world. Even as we are learning about the first four limbs of yoga (and their components) we are using our senses going outward to integrate ourselves peacefully into the world. In the first limb, Yama, we watch ourselves acting in the world, and ask, are we harming, lying, stealing, etc.? It requires that we watch the outer world to get feedback and see how we are doing. Similarly with the second limb, Niyama, we must watch and see, are we expressing purity, contentment, discipline, etc.? Are we doing these things? Are we living life according to these tenets? The third limb, Asana, is what we do with our bodies, as in posture. And the fourth limb, Pranayama is breath control. How are we breathing? How are the ribs moving? How is the belly moving or not? These four limbs have landmarks in time and space, directly related with the physical world, and looking to it for feedback towards the aim of growth.

The fifth limb in Ashtanga yoga is Pratyahara, sense withdrawal. It calls for us to turn the senses away from external stimulation. We relax the eyes, not looking outward. Release the tendency to listen outward when practicing Pratyahara. Can we use the sense of touch to feel internal and subtle sensations? As the yogic explorer we ask, what is inside? What is there besides the world of external stimulation? In Pratyahara we devote the sense organs to who we are apart from the external life. It honors the inner self, prepares the space for going deeper into practice, and sets the stage for the next three limbs.

Pratyahara also informs my experience of myself, by teaching me to go inward. Instead of only a recorder and absorber of life’s energies, I also become a generator. I begin to consider and see what I want to put out there, instead of only wondering what I can take. Looking inward aligns us with our highest goals.

The Blissful Framework of Pranayama

When I walked into the Art Institute of Chicago it felt like a switch was turned on inside me. I went from a mode that was coasting into an activated state. My eyes became keen as I was primed and excited about what I was about to see. I enjoy and am stimulated by art. And I made a connection: I realized that when I get up from my pranayama (breathing) practice I feel the same way. The difference is that it sets up my frame of seeing without the pleasant expectations of seeing something great. As we know, not all activities are equally exciting. It’s easy to be “on” for things we know we like. Learning about the breath can help us to be “on” for more of life.

Pranayama, or breath control, is the fourth limb of Ashtanga yoga. It can be seen as a bridge towards meditation. The first limb, Yama has to do with relating to the external world ethically. While the second limb, Niyama is for personal observances. And the third limb, Asana is posture. So Pranayama begins to take us into more subtle realms of breath, preparing us for the next four limbs to work with our consciousness on many levels. It goes beyond how we understand ourselves in everyday interactions with others.

Breath connects visible processes with invisible processes. When you take a breath there is a perceivable movement in your body. Your belly moves, and/or your ribcage swells. This is something you can observe on yourself or others. It’s nice to watch pets do this (I like watching my bunnies breathe.). Inside the body oxygen is absorbed from the air, and it cycles through the body—invisibly maintaining our cells.

And air is invisible, so breath can also be seen as mediating the invisible. We take in the invisible air where it goes through invisible processes. So our bodies are in direct contact (inside and out) with the unknown (invisible) all the time. Metaphorically it can also be seen as processing an invisible past towards an invisible future, and the only place we can actually taste it is in the present moment. So when we are working with the breath it is important to be aware of the sensations of what is occurring in any given moment.

Different kinds of yoga handle the practice of breathing in different ways. In Iyengar yoga it’s important to be well established in your asana practice before learning pranayama. But, in Kripalu yoga they teach breath control right away. And, in Ashtanga yoga (of Sri K. Pattabhi Jois) you are doing Ujjayi Pranayama during your asana practice.

I feel a greater sense of wellbeing after my pranayama practice (I have been doing it separately from asana in line with Iyengar yoga). I do it every day before leaving the house. Just five minutes of breath awareness can make a real difference. A good way to start practicing is to lie down and watch your natural breath. Learn to observe your inhalations and exhalations as they appear without any help from you. Then lengthen the in and out breaths so that they are long, soft, smooth, deep, even breaths. Breathe evenly into the right and left lungs. Make sure that the inhalations and exhalations are equally extended for a balancing breath. End the practice by relaxing the breath control, and observe the natural flow of breath.

Asana with Care

When I was first learning the primary series in Ashtanga yoga (of Sri K. Pattabhi Jois) I would lay on my mat at the end, totally covered in sweat, good and hot, and felt as if I had just wrestled a big gorilla. I was the big gorilla. There is a good feeling to exerting oneself to that degree. It feels so good to lie down at the end.

It is good to work hard in yoga. But the scenario I just described isn’t so great. I was really yanking to try to be where I wanted to be in the poses. This is a vexing way to practice; my frustration would mount as I went from pose to pose. I was also hardening myself with over-effort.

At the same time I think it is important to challenge one’s self with the practice. So trying poses you “can’t do” is a good idea. What is crucial is how you practice. Practice with care.

Asana is the third limb of Ashtanga yoga from the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. Asana is the physical pose we are practicing in class or wherever you practice (Doing a yoga pose is a nice way to wait for luggage after a flight.).

A good way to practice asana is to put your self into the pose. Then assess it. Are you over-working certain parts, and under-working others? Do you feel strain? Can you breathe? Then adjust the pose so the whole body is actively sensing and responding to moment-to-moment feedback from the pose (including the breath). And this can all happen while “holding” a pose.

Sometimes I see students work by finding the general shape of the pose, and then freeze, perhaps waiting for it to be over. The moment you are waiting is the moment that you have stopped doing. The muscles have become like glue, rigidly holding the bones and organs in place. This way of practice is like when a bunny freezes. Sometimes rabbits do this when startled. There is nothing tighter than a tense bunny (I have two, so I know)! Their little bodies become like alabaster sculpture that shakes. Don’t do this to yourself! Don’t “hold” the pose still like that.

Keep finding the pose. Instead of trying to remain absolutely still, see what you can do to improve the pose. Does it feel dull anywhere? Can you activate that dullness? Does it feel like a rock somewhere? Can you release that or extend that? Do everything you have learned about the pose, and then discover more. Practice is fun!

Wheels of Mystery

I went to the Art Institute of Chicago this week, and not only has the museum changed, but I, too have changed. This time phone beeping interrupted my experience of the art. Oh, an email! Oh, a message! Oh, I’ll return that call later! These were unnecessary interruptions that I humored for a while. Later I wised up and silenced my phone.

The Nataraja sculpture was in the long hall that used to hold the suits of armor, chain mail and swords. It seems to be symbolic of world changes, that the symbols of combat have now been replaced with representations of spirituality. Part of the symbolism of the Nataraja (picture above), the royal dance of Shiva, is about creation and destruction in life.

The painting, Dance of Life by Edvard Munch, also on view at the Art Institute, shows a cycle of hopeful love, creation of connection, loss and grief all participating in a mad dance. I spent a long time looking at this painting, and identified with its mythology. I also saw it when I was a child going to museums with my grandmother, and wondered if it had somehow guided my emotional life-path.

The movie, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, brings the reality of life cycles into focus by reversing the life trajectory of Brad Pitt’s character. He is born old, and dies young—at least physically, while the love of his life, Cate Blanchett’s character ages normally (yet beautifully). This dynamic forces them to consciously address aging and youth-ing with difficult choices.

This year, I find myself the oldest I have ever been. I have experienced hopefulness. I have experienced loss. And I am looking forward to seeing how the cycle of my life continues because even though a life can be seen as one cycle from birth to death, within every life is a constant movement of inspiration for growth and the reality of decay. So I don't know what's next.

And, just as the earth rotates and is held by gravity as it goes around the sun, as we go through a life cycle we are held by the great mystery at our center.

Also, Ashtanga yoga is sometimes represented with its eight limbs coming out from a center like spokes coming out from the central axis of a wheel. When seen this way one can get a sense of evolving in multiple ways simultaneously. All spokes of a wheel support the movement or evolution, development, and realization along the path of yoga.

Let’s roll with it. Here are a couple more wheel links:

Buddhist Wheel of life
Tarot Wheel of Fortune

Isvara-pranidhana

When I was first getting into Ashtanga yoga there were times when, during the heat of practice, a teacher would say to “surrender.” I reacted to this: never! “I will not surrender,” I thought. When a teacher said to “let go,” it had a different effect. I understood that I was holding suffering, and wanted to let that go. But the use of the word surrender confused me. I was using yoga to get sexy, strong, supple, and to feel better. I definitely didn’t want to surrender to the individual teacher: that seemed a bit much. I also didn’t want to surrender to the words I was hearing at that time. Surrendering brought up the image of a conquered enemy waving a white flag. I was not a defeated foe.

The fifth Niyama is Isvara-pranidhana, and it calls for us to surrender. My thinking around this concept has changed since I was first hearing it (without a clarifying context).

The world is bigger than me. It is bigger than the contents of my mind, and more than what I know. So there is some mystery to the world and how things work and why things happen the way they do. This mystery is what the surrendering is about. It acknowledges that there is a larger reality that we, as individuals, cannot control and cannot know. There are times to let go of the desire to control reality, and there are times to trust that things are as they are, existing with reasons that are out of the realm of ordinary understanding. So what we are being asked to surrender to is this larger realm. It is awe-inspiring to witness the beauty of a moment without words, without knowing, and not controlling.

Of course in daily life this presents a big challenge. We want and need to make sure we make enough money, live in safety, and have the freedom to express ourselves. So we strive to control the world so that it will serve our needs. This is natural.

And yet, things still happen that are out of our control. We get sick, injured, hurt, heal, succeed, prosper, age, and so on.

So, I trust the things that happen to me. Things happen that change my plans, and there is always so much to learn along the way. I surrender to the wisdom in my heart while honoring what I see reflected in the world. Perceptions of the world can show me when I’m on track or off the mark.

The Ashtanga Mirror

In an Ashtanga yoga class you are doing the same poses in the same sequence every time. It is the Primary Series. So rather than the poses or sequence being different with each practice, the difference is you. As you put yourself into the same poses/sequence every day you can begin to detect differences in your body’s day-to-day energy. You might feel fatigued on one day and king or queen of the world the next. You will notice differences in flexibility. On one day you will break all previous records with a super-deep practice, and then the next day you might feel tight in the same set of poses. The breath is easy on one day, and hard the next. On one day you might feel in love with yourself and your practice, and on another be totally self-loathing. When the sequence is set as in the Primary Series, it highlights the changes that we go through every day. Ashtanga yoga becomes a mirror of observation for our selves.

Last week I took Bill Shapleigh’s Tuesday night Ashtanga class at YogaView. His class is done according to the traditional way. He calls out the poses, counts out the breaths, and adjusts students (with permission). There is almost no instruction about the poses. It is not a class for beginners, but it is a great class for those with experience who want to practice Ashtanga. This time I felt like a totally different person from the last time I had practiced the Series. In the last few years I haven’t been as committed to this style of practice as I once was, but I do appreciate it’s ability to tell me how I’m doing relative to the last time I did it. This time I felt more confident and sure in my body. A friend who was doing Ashtanga around the time I started yoga said she remembered when I first started how my legs would shake like a newly born foal in down dog. And now my legs feel sure like they are drinking healing sap from the earth. I was strong during the practice, and strong after it.

The biggest difference I noticed after doing Ashtanga yoga for a few years is that I began to feel comfortable in my own skin. The healing balm of yoga worked. Then, after three-plus years of this practice, my emotions became difficult to process. I was going through a difficult break-up and making the first real decisions of my life. I eventually slowed down my practice, studied Iyengar yoga, and started to teach yoga. And now I have come into a better balance with myself spiritually and emotionally. And I still like Ashtanga!

Iyengar. Ashtanga.

You say Iyengar, I say Ashtanga.
You say Anusara, I say Kundalini.

Iyengar. Ashtanga. Anusara. Kundalini.
Let’s call the whole thing off!

Yoga is beyond any individual style or lineage of yoga practice. Basically they are all leading to the same place. But how you get there can look radically different, because there is such variety in yoga practices. And I have worked with a few!

I had been working in high-stress offices and practicing Richard Hittleman's Yoga: 28 Day Exercise Plan on and off since college when I took my first Ashtanga yoga class at what was then Priya yoga studio on Oak Street, here, in Chicago. I realized it was kind of out-of-my-league, so I took some Yoga Basics classes for a while, and eventually got back to Ashtanga, and was hooked! The intensity, heat, and movement of the practice was exactly what I needed after years with very little exercise. It was an outlet, and a metaphor for my frustration and angst, as well as a way out. The poses in the Primary Series for me symbolized going inward and being born again fresh into life. However, I did get injured a couple times. I lacked body awareness and really wrestled myself into those poses when I was first learning.

Perhaps it was my intense zeal for a very powerful practice that led to my ungrounded state after about three-and-a-half years of daily Ashtanga yoga. I became unbalanced. Whether it was other life circumstances, or the practice itself, I can’t really say. Maybe it was just my karma.

It was during this time that I met Gabriel Halpern, a certified Iyengar yoga teacher with eclectic healing skills. It was learning this practice, with longer holds in the poses and attention to alignment details, that helped me come back to earth. The healing I have experienced during this time is due, I think, to slowing down, using the technique, and getting to know Gabriel. He is a man who is living his yoga in an imperfect world, and has learned valuable life skills that he talks about in his classes. It has been so helpful to meet someone like this. Thank you, Gabriel! I can live in this world.

I don’t think that one practice is better than the other, but they are so different! And there is so much nuance and subtlety in the different approaches to practice. So I admit, I’m not going very deep here, just a brief outline of how Ashtanga and Iyengar yoga have informed my experience.

Respite from disease

We were walking on Bear Butte, a sacred site for the Lakota people, in South Dakota last spring. It felt natural. Though we had only known one another for a couple days, I was magically transported into feelings of safety and belonging that I had not encountered since childhood. I felt honored by you. Your eyes seemed to reflect my joy in discovering you. The terrain in one place had rocks the size of feet; it was unstable as we walked. I heard you say “ow” because it hurt your ankles, and then you asked me if my feet were okay. Later that night, in the dark and moist heat of the sweat lodge ceremony, I heard you say my name, and it sounded like my name referred to a cherished one.

Throughout the trip we talked about intense life concerns. Looking back on it, I guess I was talking and experiencing with my imagination fully engaged and without regard for life beyond the trip. We were on a spiritual journey, and I should have left it at that. But in the moment I thought it would translate into the rest of my life. And I suppose it has, just not the way that I was fantasizing it would. In my love-drunk state I thought that I could do anything. I could heal. I belonged. The trip was a respite from disease. And I am grateful for the moment of bliss.

The disease I’m talking about here is dis-ease, as in not being comfortable, and not feeling okay. And I realize that it’s very common to project our salvation on someone else. But, then when people get together so often the other one also takes the blame for things going badly. Both of these attitudes ignore the bigger picture.

I can’t begin to wrap my mind around the events that led to my birth, or any human birth. According to current beliefs a Big Bang started our universe, then there was the miracle of life and the evolution of species. Human culture and societies formed. My ancestors participated in this. Then my dad met my mom and I was born into this time period. (Obviously I am leaving out some detail.)

And, it is a project much bigger than a blog entry to describe all the events that led up to me having the personality and life circumstances I now have. Who I have become, since birth, is a part of a larger flow of information and interactions that lead back to the first people who walked on earth, and perhaps even further back to our evolutionary ancestors. In each moment of my awareness there is potential to see myself as a natural culmination of life up to now that includes the events of my personal life as well as the lives around me and those that came before me.

From this perspective, it is not logical to blame myself for how I am showing up at any given moment. I am a part of the larger flow of life. I am a representation (there are many others) of what we were, and I hold potential (along with everybody else) for what we will become. In my actions I contribute to this greater flow. So when it comes to my interactions with another person the “your fault/my fault” thing doesn’t really hold up when looked at through the lens of the bigger picture that I’ve just barely described.

Ashtanga yoga offers a strategy for maximizing one’s contribution to the greater flow of life. It starts with Yama, which governs our interactions and helps us to conserve precious life-energy by not harming others, and continues on with ways to concentrate and express this energy towards a transcendental experience of life.

In these ancient scriptural concepts I see a way to direct my life according to whatever wisdom and inspiration I might have. So instead of flowing aimlessly, and riding out whatever current happens to push into me, there is the possibility to add some direction to my path. It’s as if at first I’ve discovered that I’m on a boat, and then I find that I actually have an engine to initiate change and a rudder so I can steer.

Ashtanga Butterfly

There are eight limbs of yoga according to the Yoga Sutras of Pantanjali (Ashtanga means eight limbs.). I have represented the eight limbs of yoga with a butterfly image.


Ashtanga Yoga – Eight Limbs of Yoga

First limb – Yama – Moral discipline that regulates our survival instincts

Second limb – Niyama – Self-restraint that regulates our personal lives

Third limb – Asana – Posture that regulates physiology

Fourth limb – Pranayama – Breath control that regulates subtle energy

Fifth limb – Pratyahara – Sense-withdrawal, looking inward

Sixth limb – Dharana – One-pointed concentration

Seventh limb – Dhyana – Meditation, consciousness expanded

Eighth limb – Samadhi – Ecstasy, bliss

Just as the limbs on the butterfly connect into the same body (yoga), all eight limbs of yoga affect a person simultaneously. You can’t really disconnect a person from their natural aspects or limbs. So yoga is operating in our lives whether we’re aware of it or not.

You’ll notice that I gave Ashtanga Butterfly strong legs, and feet connected to the ground. The reason being that a newly discovered spiritual practice can leave someone ungrounded, so remember your feet. Remembering your actual feet is important in practice, but also the metaphorical feet, like relationships, personal history, home environment, and finances--all the things that connect you to a healthy, every-day life. There was a time when instead of connecting me healthfully to myself, my yoga practice served as a means of escape. When I got hooked by yoga it was because it was connecting me with bliss, the likes of which I had not encountered before. And, all I wanted was MORE! I approached my yoga practice like an addict wanting a fix. It gave me a way to escape painful feelings. These days I find myself doing things to ensure a more balanced practice and life. One thing I am consciously doing is remembering my history, because that is what brought me to this moment in life where I can appreciate connection and bliss, and sadness and endings.

I also gave Ashtanga Butterfly antennae projecting upward. This is in honor of the search for the unknown, finding connection, and learning to go deeper into oneself. Part of the practice of yoga for me is listening deeply, aiming to live closer to my truth.

Both aspects are important: connecting to the individual life that brought us here to this moment (symbolized by the feet), as well as listening deeply and being available to give definition to something new in oneself (symbolized in my drawing by butterfly antennae). The gatekeeper for this possibility is the mind, which can be seduced either toward earthly pleasures or toward heavenly bliss. The mind’s job is to direct our energies towards balance. What this balance looks like is my feet are on the earth and I am open to and watching intently the great mystery of life’s journey.

Read a later post about Getting High with Yoga

Support for Change

Many yoga practitioners say that when they come to a class they work harder than when they practice at home. Somehow it can be harder to maintain motivation to do a full practice at home. Maybe we come home tired, or there are too many distractions.

The support of having a teacher and fellow students working really gets me going. Even listening to energizing music can help. Having support makes making change more natural. Support helps create space for change.

When a person starts on the path of yoga, whether they know it or not they are on a path of change. This could be because change is the truth of experience. It also could be because when a person is practicing yoga it’s harder to hide from the truth. The body feels different. I became aware of myself in a different way when I committed to my yoga practice.

I learned to become myself in a different way when I got into yoga. Before yoga my attention was on pleasing others. Then, my attention shifted to getting to know myself. And now I want to learn how I can connect more deeply with others, keeping my sense of myself intact.

This is a place where I must give myself support. Nobody else can really know what is best for me, except me. Only I know. Yet, there have been times in my life when I have wanted to give that away. It was much easier to focus on someone else. But, when I have done that it left a vacancy inside myself. And I now feel that it does myself a disservice to the extent that it’s almost criminal.

I came here with a particular take on life, and my experiences have further guided me into a sense of myself that I have to honor. If I don’t it’s a waste of myself. It’s my birthright to be me, even though at times it has been hard for me to accept the responsibility.

I think the level of self-rejection I used to have is unique, yet a part of me doubts this thought. In the past, the most important thing was pleasing other people (as I mentioned earlier). Seeing the smiling look of approval on the face of another was like hitting the emotional jackpot. Or, hearing the words, “good, Brooks” sent my spirit soaring. I’m more suspicious of these patterned reactions, now.

The impersonal format of a group yoga class gave me the support I needed to have quality time with myself. I started to wake up. During the period of time I’m thinking about, I was practicing Ashtanga yoga. Somehow the support of those teachers, and the repetition of the classes, as well as the quietness of the Mysore-style practice provided a fertile ground for transformation within myself.

I don’t know how else I might have found myself in the chaos of this world.

A friend made an observation when I remembered a detail of what I heard him say last week. He had forgotten that he had mentioned it to me, so when I said it he was a little freaked out, like I was psychic or something. I shared that I had only remembered what he said, and that I tend to remember what people say. He responded by saying that it must mean less space for me with other people’s thoughts bouncing around in my head.

And eureka! Maybe that’s why many people don’t really listen or remember what others say, because they feel that they’ll loose that space for themselves.

I think (not being a brain scientist) that we have infinite capacity to hear others. The feeling of tight brain space is an illusion that can be remedied by a regular practice of letting go, like yoga. Listening is a wonderful and priceless gift we can give another being.

To be able to support another by listening can help that person locate their self. Listening in this way provides space in the chaos of life, space to flourish, room to change.