In yoga and in life, "Never Say Never!"

Get ready for a long yoga post! Over the past several months I've gone through something of a yoga renewal and revolution. While I've practiced yoga for some years now, I was forced away from consistent practice for almost a year due to injury. It wasn't until this past fall that I started to feel comfortable with re-introducing yoga into my life little by little. It was a tough time, on the one hand, I was impatient to get back to where I had been a year before, on the other hand I was scared of re-injuring myself and putting myself out of yoga altogether. Slowly, but surely, I learned to trust my body and my own judgment and found myself not back to where I had been, but in fact growing mentally and physically.

I was introduced to the practice of Ashtanga yoga back in 2001 at a class with Christopher Hildebrandt at Jivamukti Yoga Studio in New York City. A coworker had been singing the praises of Ashtanga yoga for some time so I decided to give it a try. An hour and a half of sweat, shock, awe, pain, and exhilaration later I was hooked. (The next morning was probably the most painful morning of my life; muscles I didn't even know existed were on fire!) Some years later I became aware of a different, more traditional way of practicing Ashtanga yoga - Mysore style. So, a short primer on the Ashtanga yoga system. Unlike most other yoga styles, Ashtanga consists of an opening series, standing and sitting poses, backbends, and closing, all in the exact same order and same poses every single time. Practicing Ashtanga in the Mysore style means that you progress through the series until you have not yet mastered a pose, e.g. you don't move on until you successfully complete a pose. For a sometimes over-achiever like myself, this method of practice can be quite the bummer.  Imagine that you are learning your ABCs and are having a tough time pronouncing the letter "S". You know you can pronounce clearly almost all the letters after "S" but you're not allowed to move on until you can finally pronounce "S." It can be an incredibly frustrating experience especially when you're convinced that your particular body will never, and I mean never, be able to master the letter "S," or in my case, the pose called Marichyasana D. I practiced and practiced and started to resign myself that my practice would end at that posture for the rest of my life. Though I kept telling myself yoga is not about physical achievement, I had a tough time quieting my pride and actually found myself so discouraged I'd find excuses to not practice. When I did practice, I began to feel anxiety as I got closer to THE pose. And then I got injured. While it was nice not to be so anxious and disappointed about something that had once been a source of joy and equanimity, I felt bereft of a part of my identity.

The long hiatus filled with the fear that my injury might mean no yoga for the rest of my life, forced a bit of an evolution for me. My focus was less anxiety, anger, and irritation about a particular pose and more hope, fear, and joy in the possibility of yoga at all. Oftentimes in the beginning of classes, teachers ask students to designate an intention for their yoga practice. This can sometimes be a bit of a struggle for me. One side of me says I should dedicate my practice to a concept larger than myself (world peace, anyone?) while the other more mortal side of me immediately thinks of baser concepts like strength and flexibility. With yoga becoming more and more of a possibility for me as my elbow started to recuperate, it became easier to simply enjoy my practice as it was and find the intention for my practice as simply being present throughout each and every breath of each and every pose. And wouldn't you know it? There was one day when I was attempting Marichyasana D and all of a sudden, it became my own! I was so surprised and shocked that I literally yelped in the middle of class! Where before I had been 150% convinced that my body would never ever twist and turn into the pose, it all of a sudden felt almost easy. I almost wonder if perhaps all of my energetic striving had actually gotten in my way before where all I needed to do was relax and let whatever was going to happen, happen (or not).

I was inspired to write this post (or manifesto, given how long it's getting!) because of today's yoga practice. I've been stuck at a pose called Supta Kurmasana. My teacher today told me that I was just millimeters/days away from accomplishing it. I was so surprised by her words because I had fallen back into bad habits. I was again 150% convinced that my shoulders just don't bend the way they need to for the pose and I would need to resign myself to my yogic fate. Even now as I look ahead into the practice, I have my doubts. If only I can bang into my thick skull what yoga is trying to teach me! Namely,

1: Breathe and be wholly present in the practice.

2. Have patience. As Guruji, Sri K. Pattahbi Jois, the founder of Ashtanga yoga, said "Do your practice and all is coming."

Both of these lessons are certainly applicable to the rest of my life. How much happier might I be if I lived by these concepts! So, good luck dear readers in your pursuit of breath, presence, and patience.