Asana~ A Moving Meditation

I first exercised my interest in meditation practice at a Buddhist Center housed in the basement of the Social Security building in my town. I would make great efforts to dress respectfully and comfortably, arrive in a timely fashion, take my shoes off, and quietly smile at others in the room. But when the time came for me to sit on the Zafu (meditation cushion), I would simply watch with great interest as my mind would play over happenings of the day, plan evening meals, and recall the trivial things I had forgotten to do earlier. When I finally got to the point where I realized I was daydreaming or lost in a train of thought, I tried to “let the thought float by like a cloud,” as I had been encouraged to do by so many teachers. But I could never really fully understand what that meant. From here, I would begin to envision a cloud and get lost in some visualization of nature that made no sense and connected with nothing. Though it was always a peaceful and relaxing feeling, it didn’t feel close to any sense of bliss or energetic awareness, and certainly didn’t feel like meditation.

I often felt that I could easier find calmness of the mind while practicing asana. It took me many sits, but the bliss of a quiet meditation practice is a different kind of stillness that I eventually came to appreciate as uniquely beautiful. However, on days when my mind is going a million miles a minute, I sometimes find it easier to attain that deeper sense of focus while twisted up in Garudasana than I do with japa (repetitive) mantra on my pillow. It frustrates me that this is the case, but often it takes my body and my breath moving in unison to physically pull me into that meditative space. My mind can be such a little chatterbox. When I find myself in Savasana, I work on bringing my awareness to my chakra system and try to focus on my mantra practice. Though these feelings can’t compare to the stillness I have felt on my pillow, the brief reprieve from the world and the effort towards self care always feels to me like a triumph.

People don’t realize it, but they want meditation. They want an exit or a freedom from the hectic ways of their everyday lives. I firmly believe that is why yoga has become so popular in recent years. Life in the modern age can be incessant, trying, nagging, and paralyzing. People need an outlet to relieve stress, to bring their focus to the purely physical experience of challenging the strength and flexibility of their bodies. People need to forget the noise, the distraction, the need to always be working and pleasing others, at least for some period of time out of the day. I have seen asana practice provide that outlet for many. And for a few, this glimpse at peace can spark an interest in a contemplative or silent meditative practice.

Techniques involving seated meditation are difficult for some. The heat building element of asana practice, called Tapasia, assists in cleansing the physical body of impurities. It brings a physical shift and a sense of relief, which is a form of instant gratification. The happiness that comes from a regular seated meditation practice does not come so instantly, but it is worth the time and the effort. Meditation can find you when you aren’t really looking for it, at times. Perhaps the next time you get to the studio and the class is full or you find yourself with a bum knee and stuck at home, monitor your reaction and make an effort towards your spiritual growth. Turn off everything, find some quiet, and sit still, listening to your breath.

The true goal of yoga and a meditative practice is ultimately to find a sense of union between the finite and the infinite self. The tangible work that we do on a physical level in asana can bring us into the present moment, helping us discover a place of stillness and quiet inside of our very selves. In such moments of silence, there exists a feeling of vastness within that is said to connect all beings and bring about an expanded sense of awareness beyond the physical body. Attaining such an experience takes practice, discipline, and focus. Many people that practice asana may never have such an experience. For those who do, a greater sense of silence and awareness is realized, and it takes one beyond the realm of asana and pranayama. This may happen for a fleeting moment, but these moments become more available the more they are reached for and intended upon. In such a moment, it becomes apparent that the world of yoga goes far beyond the physical practice, beyond the breath, beyond the heart. Meditation, asana, and pranayama have the potential to bring us further than we have the capacity to even understand. Tangible results of such realizations can manifest as feelings of joy, openness, vastness, and compassion. It is here we discover that asana is not the end, but the means. These tools are here for us as mere vehicles, designed to take us to a far greater level of awareness and consciousness.

Come to My Class!

Drop in at VIM Fitness in Central Square on Mondays and Wednesdays.
Class is 12-1 and is $15. Take a break in the sauna after class!

Looking through the eyes of a Teacher

When I realized that I wanted to teach yoga, it was partly because I needed a complete lifestyle change. I always loved the way I would feel after practicing, and I had some experience guiding friends and teens through informal yoga classes, done for fun. Yet I never felt that I could be a teacher, for I always revered the instructors of every class I took, and didn’t feel I could ever match their presence, awareness, intellect, and postural understanding. I remember sitting at my desk at the office, looking at the clock every day, hoping I could get through enough work to make time for a yoga class in the evening. More often than not, I couldn’t. I think that this is part of what propelled me to become a teacher, because I always felt myself wanting more yoga in my life.

I recall practicing asana before the training, almost religiously. I was so nervous to be around others who were going for their certification, I felt like I had to be in primo shape and be able to hold a headstand for twenty minutes. I envisioned arriving and everyone stretched out on their mats, contorting into twisted inversions and intricate arm balances. It was a great motivation, because it helped me bring my practice to a central part of my day and my life. But when I got to the training, I came across six other individuals who were at the same level as me, everyone completely free from judgment and eager to learn from one another. I still use some of the cues from the people I went through training with.

Over the course of the training, I could feel my body responding to the immense amount of asana practice we had been doing. Learning how to cue the postures helped me to more fully understand them. There were a lot of “A ha!” moments in realizing the relationship between my body and the postures. When I would go to a yoga class prior to the training, I didn’t have as much awareness of physical alignment and the flow of energy. I think part of it, too, is the first few months (or even years) that you are doing yoga, you are just trying to get your body into these positions that feel somewhat unnatural. Once your practice reaches a level where you have postural understanding, the asanas change completely. There is more opportunity to grow in asana practice by steadying the gaze, breathing deeper, and feeling the parts of your body that are getting stretched and strengthened. Small details like spreading my toes and pressing down with the lower half of my body helped me feel more grounded in my asana practice. The notion of trying to keep a sense of lifting in the upper half of my body encouraged me to bring awareness to my spine and core muscles, as well as open through my chest and shoulders. Learning about anatomy and seeing how my own body was affected by the postures, I began noticing where I would feel more open or sore after practice. I also began to understand why I didn’t like certain postures. Usually, it was because I needed to strengthen my core, admittedly. But, practice makes practice!

I started to become familiar with the balance of flexibility, strength, and patterns of holding. Something that became central to my asana practice, and eventually my teaching style, is the notion of always stretching in at least two directions. I began to understand things like oppositional force (pressing down through the base to lift up) and static contraction (holding difficult postures while focusing on breath flow). I strive to get my students to match their strength with flexibility, and vice versa. Many people can bend into a pretzel, but if they don’t have strength to back it up chance of injury, like pulling a hamstring or a ligament, is far more likely. Likewise, those people that have strength from cardio or weight training exercises require stretch and flexibility to prevent their muscles from over-contracting, and prevent their joints from becoming tight to the point of inhibition.

Once I became a certified instructor, I again felt my practice change. I had a lot more confidence in my abilities, and felt eager to take the challenges that a lot of teachers offered in the classes I would take. I also found myself being a bit more critical of instructors. This is not necessarily judgmental or unkind, just contemplative. I still peak out of the corner of my eye as they adjust students, and modify physical or breath cues that don’t feel right for my body. Sometimes I think to myself, “Shouldn’t we be inhaling here?” But these are all examples of how we can learn to let go, which is another central aim of taking a yoga class. In essence, it is important to shed all thoughts and preconceived notions, and strive to remain present no matter what the teacher is doing, the students around you are doing, or the brain inside of you is doing. It is in this state that one can not only attain more benefits from the class, but also give the self an opportunity to learn in a way that is not anticipated or expected.

I still find it difficult to get out of my ‘teacher’s mind’ while practicing asana. Sometimes I can’t help but look at other students and want to tell them to relax their neck in uttanasana (standing forward bend), or track the knee to the outer edge of the foot in virabhadrasana (warrior) poses. I am also constantly absorbing the cues of the instructor, playing with them physically, and then adapting or adding them onto my repertoire of cues that I use while teaching. I have a notebook that I keep at home, filled with sequences and cues from other teachers that I enjoyed while taking their class. I think it is imperative as an instructor to always take yoga classes with a variety of teachers, for it is an ancient practice that belongs to no one, and all we can do is learn from one another, share it, and pass it along.

As a teacher, I think it is imperative to understand your students and where they are coming from. When I first began taking yoga, I always appreciated that the instructor would ask if there were any injuries in the class. I feel that this gives the initial impression that there is no need to exacerbate your body or overwork yourself, in fact just the opposite. In yoga class, one is meant to accept his or her limitations and incorporate them into the practice, rather than try to ignore them and go beyond one’s limit. When I teach, I often like to ask the students present what they would like to work on, postural or physical, and then tailor my class to the needs of the group. This way, everyone gets a little bit of what they are looking for, as well as some aspects they may not have been expecting. While I am often looking at my students’ posture and alignment, I also try to keep an eye on their faces as well. There’s nothing more telling than a grimace in a posture to hint that one is overexerting oneself. “Slow, steady breath. Relax your shoulders. Relax your face.” I am quite sure I recite these cues in my sleep.

At the start of class I always try to take at least two deep breaths with complete focus. From there, it is funny, sometimes I don’t even know what happens. It is almost as if I am a medium for this ancient practice to come through, the words come out of my mouth without thought, the sequences pop into my brain with little effort. I know that part of this is from practice, but I also feel an innate sense of belonging as I teach, as if it was something I have always been meant to do, and may have even done before. The flow of a class, from breath work (pranayama), to warm up, to standing postures, to inversions, to cool down, to relaxation, seems to uphold itself with only a few glances on my part at the clock. At the end of class I often try to sit in meditation, or put props away quietly and mindfully, as the students let themselves relax. I guide the relaxation by encouraging the students to remain in the present moment and refrain from planning the rest of their day. Again, this is advice I have to take myself when on the mat. Just like anyone, my mind wanders to thoughts, to-do lists, and usually, the planning of meals.

Now that I have been teaching for two years, I am constantly trying to better my practice and become stronger in my physical body. But I have to remember that it is not imperative for the teacher to do any posture perfectly, but rather cue it safely and accurately. I feel a little pressure from myself to do postures beautifully and flawlessly every time. I notice that I don’t always take my own advice on the mat and try to muscle into postures, sometimes. This has led to injury of my back and my knees, and lots of frustration for myself. I have had to look critically at why I do this in spite of the fact that I know it’s not what yoga is all about. What I often think I am striving for are those “A ha!” moments in more advanced postures like titibasana (firefly) or jumping back to a chaturaga (low plank) from bakasana (crane pose). When I practice ashtanga I try not to stare at the yogis falling back from standing into chakrasana (upward facing backbend), or become impatient with myself as I struggle in kurmasana (tortoise pose) or matsyasana (fish pose). I have to constantly remind myself, as I do my students, that this is a lifelong practice. There is no goal that must be achieved today, there is only the goal of a fit body and mind over time. Sometimes I like to picture an older me, grey and wrinkled, in a beautiful arm balance I have yet to attain, like galavasana. With this image in mind, it becomes easier for me to have patience with myself today, and continue my practice with measured, relaxed, consistent effort.

The Real Meaning of Surrender

When I first started taking yoga classes I was somewhat baffled by the consistent reminder to ‘let go’ or ‘surrender’ into postures, especially in the more challenging asanas. In these moments I would find myself becoming increasingly frustrated and shaky, and often the cue to surrender brought a deeper tension in my physical being and psychic system. But later in class there would always be a pose like eka pada kapotasana (one leg pigeon pose) or jathara parivartanasana (reclined twist) where I could feel a physical release of tension, and a deep ‘letting go’ feeling would wash over me. I tried to connect this physical release with an emotional or mental release as well, sighing out the worries of my day or my checkbook, giving myself permission to have a sense of relaxation during stressful times.

My challenge was taking this feeling into the balancing or strengthening postures like garudasana (eagle) or virabhadrasana III (warrior 3). With much practice I learned that the moment focus shifts from struggle to ease of being and to the breath, it becomes more possible to maintain a feeling of lightness and balance in difficult postures. In these grueling moments, I encourage my students to fill up with air, take the eyes to one point (drishdi), and intentionally divert the attention from exertion to the rhythm of the breath. This will help the student tune in less to physical strain and more to the distribution of weight and mechanics of the posture. Here the student will become better able to connect with grace and strength within the body.

Surrendering is much more than opening up on the mat and letting go of physical tension. There are opportunities for us to surrender in each minute of the day. From moment to moment, we are constantly processing the world around us. Everywhere we look there are thousands of stimuli; situations that make us happy or sad, drama we could become wrapped up in, parts of our lives that leave us feeling stressed, overwhelmed, frustrated, or otherwise distracted. In each of these moments we have a choice to react or to surrender. Often it feels instinctual to react by making instant judgments in the mind, snapping to a conclusion that then leads to a mode of action. This is natural, and makes us feel functional and productive. But perhaps the challenge is the opposite… to open up to the obstacle rather than force a solution, suppress it, or suffer through it.

It is in this new challenge that we can start to tangibly see our own personal growth happening. The deeper connection we begin to feel in ourselves and in the world around us, the more mundane and trivial our everyday dramas begin to become. It is paramount to notice that we do not have control over most of the situations that influence our lives. This may seem like a very abstract thought, but the next time you have an opportunity to become frustrated or judgmental, see if you can take a deep breath and redistribute your energy. There are many options and visualizations you can use, such as drawing light and energy around your heart, or envisioning tension dripping down your arms like ash or dirt, dripping out your fingers. Just like in asana practice, try to divert your attention to your breath and heart center. Whatever works for you individually, see if you can come back to it whenever you start to feel a stress or tension building in your system.

This exercise turns everyday trials, like standing in line at the supermarket, or squabbling over a parking ticket, into opportunities for spiritual growth. It also has the potential to help with more intense emotional struggles like grief or depression. My teacher, Swami Shambhavananda, often says, “You are not far from the state of pure Truth, pure Consciousness, and pure Bliss that you are seeking. Even when you are in your darkest hour, it is very close to you.” This expression has helped me through much turmoil, for it reminds me that the potential for all the joy of the world is always available to everyone in it. Beyond our deepest fears, worries, struggles and strife exists something bigger than all of us. Our challenge is to work to open up to that vastness, especially when our lives seem truly grim. Once we have learned how to do this, only then can we truly experience surrender.

The Neighbor’s Peach Tree

The trash bag rustled as Deepak plopped it on the table. “These peaches were given to us by a neighbor. Would you please cut off the mushy parts so we can make a cobbler for dessert tonight?” Peeling back a side of the wet, sticky bag revealed a slippery mass of leaves, peach fuzz, and a small portion of usable peaches. I grabbed a large bowl for the good peaches, and started carving away.

Though I had been searching for what seemed like lifetimes, my meditation practice was about six months old. I was seeking a path that I felt connected to, and stumbled upon it by accident after years of leafing through Buddhist books, attending Dharma lectures and introductory meditation classes. One Sunday night, around 9pm, I was working at my office. I had reached a breaking point with stress… I awoke every day with fear in my chest and a gasp in my throat. When I realized that it was 9pm on a Sunday and I was at the office, I experienced a moment of clarity and knew I had to make an active move toward change. I don’t know if it was Karma or Google, but that night I found Konalani Yoga Ashram and signed up for their yoga teacher training the following spring.

Four months later, I was sitting on a pillow in a tiny shrine on the mountainside of Kona, Hawaii. I did become a certified instructor from this program, but the meditation practices that I learned whilst there brought a potential for growth I had not expected. In this little room in the coming weeks, months, and year, I would sit, dance, chant, cry, daydream, focus… and learn how to play the drum. That first night, fresh from the beach and the shower, I had no idea all of that was in store for me. The teacher, Satyam, talked about a place in the heart that is about the size of a thumbnail. This place has the potential to contain all of the bliss of the entire universe. As I sat on the pillow, carving away at my ego, I yearned to understand, and tried to be content in the fact that I didn’t.

It wasn’t long after that first class with Satyam that I noticed a subtle sensation in my heart while meditating. I could physically feel a lightness, an openness, an unending happiness at the center of my chest. And the next moment it was gone. But the experience was sublime, however small a glimpse of bliss it was, and I knew it was real… more real than anything I had ever experienced.

As I chopped away at the peaches that day, a kind woman called Yogini joined me at the task. “You know what I always think of when I am doing work like this? That I am trying to scrape off all of the rotten, moldy parts of myself, and truly discard them, let them go.” As I took a breath into my heart and smiled, I knew this was a concept I could get my head around. The potential for growth is everywhere, even in an anonymous neighbor’s peach orchard.

Shanti Musings

ShantiShantiShanti, my friends!

I have been writing for a yoga website: The Secrets of Yoga (.com) and thought it might be good to post some of the articles here. Hope you enjoy them!

Namaste,
Shanti