Articles Tagged with: Yoga
Why do we practise?

That is a fundamental question. It’s my belief that, if we can formulate a succinct answer to this question – something that we can sum up in one or two sentences – it can go a long way toward helping us maintain our motivation through both good and bad times.

Let’s tease this out a bit…

There are many reasons that people practise yoga so I’ll just list a few here. Some of them will resonate with you and others won’t:

  • To cultivate or maintain a healthy body
  • To cultivate or maintain a healthy mind
  • To increase the likelihood of living a long life
  • To gain a degree of self-awareness
  • To be part of a community of practitioners
  • To achieve mastery over the body
  • To achieve mastery over the mind (and decrease mental chatter)
  • To achieve certain yoga postures for their own sake or for the feeling of accomplishment it brings
  • To challenge oneself on a daily basis
  • To get that amazing feeling that you always get after practice
  • To look good and have a beautiful body
  • To gain recognition from our peers for being advanced in yoga postures
  • To feel empowered by taking responsibility for our own well-being
  • To gain a sense that we a growing and learning throughout our lives
  • To benefit those people close to us by improving our mood/attention-span/awareness/compassion etc.
  • To maintain our sense of identity as somebody who practices yoga
  • To live up to the expectations of others
  • To simply enjoy the feeling of doing the practice

Personally speaking, I am willing to acknowledge that every one of those (to a greater or lesser degree) has acted as motivation for me to practice at some stage during my journey with ashtanga yoga (except for maybe the ‘recognition from our peers’ one). There is no doubt, though, that each of these factors (and I am not pretending that this is an exhaustive list) takes on a different weight depending on the different circumstances that come along throughout our lives.

So I do think it’s worth reviewing this list and adding anything else that feels relevant to you. Then try to really figure out what it is that is currently motivating you to practice. Try to distill it down to one sentence if possible. For example, “I practise because I have noticed that on days when I do practise I feel better, I am more motivated at work, I have more energy, and I am nicer to my co-workers (or at least able to deal with their problems more easily).”

Remembering why we practise is often all we need to get us to actually do it.

And the next time you’re just about to hit the snooze button in the morning or order that take-away in the evening instead of going to practise you can remember that one sentence. Maybe it will help you to get on your mat and maybe it won’t but it’s worth a try, right?

Some days we need every trick in the book to get us to roll out that mat, but we all know that we have never, ever regretted doing it. So I say if you need extra motivation, or even to trick yourself into practising, on any particular day then do whatever it takes.


The distorting prism of pain

I’ve been suffering from something for the past three years that has had a profound effect on the enjoyment I get from practising yoga. It has caused me to question why I practise on numerous occasions and has almost led to me throwing the towel in altogether. In fact, if I wasn’t responsible for teaching at the shala I don’t know if I’d still be practising. It’s self-evident that in order to teach ashtanga yoga one has to practise it, so it is that responsibility that has kept me on track. I have all the students at the shala to thank for that.

Those of you who know me personally (and those of you who read this regularly) will probably know that, in 2014, I developed a very large herniated disc in my lower back which kept me from being able to practise or teach (or sit, walk, or lie down comfortably) for just over three months. It was a long (and expensive!) journey back to practising again that included a lot of help from a really fantastic physiotherapist who understood my love for the practice.

On a side note I have noticed over the years that many practitioners, when they get injured, are reluctant to see a doctor or physiotherapist out of the fear that they will be told to stop practising yoga. If you find the right professional then you can really work together to keep on (or return to) practising. So I always encourage people to get help from someone outside the ‘yogasphere’ rather than blindly continuing with an unhealthy pattern of injury followed by partial recovery.

Anyway, with the help of my physio, Xavier, I was slowly able to re-introduce the asanas over a number of months (albeit none of them looked or felt much like they had done before). Since then I have been practising regularly (with the exception of the odd day when the trappings of having two small children have made it impossible).

At the beginning of my return to practice I was just happy to be able to move my body through some of the asanas and to breathe deeply. Slowly though, I began to realise that the practice didn’t feel the same as it had before. And it wasn’t just having back pain that caused it.

The back pain was just the beginning.

The real problem, the thing that kept me from enjoying my practice and made me want to give up was:

 

FEAR!

 

I was so afraid of injuring my back again that I couldn’t switch off from it and just enjoy practising. I was so conscious of the memory of the pain I had experienced that I couldn’t allow my mind to go to that quiet place where the asanas just flow from one to the next. Citta Vrtti Nirodhah? Forget it!

But I kept practising. Because I know that my life is better when I practise than when I don’t. And if you’re teaching, you practice!

Then, a few weeks ago, it happened again. That pain returned. Excruciating pain. And off I trudged, back to see Xavier again.

But it was different this time. On putting me through a few tests he informed me that it wasn’t the same problem. In fact I’d be fine in a few days. Oh and by the way, that disc problem that you had is not there any more.

I realise now that I was so identified with the pain of a herniated disc and with recovering from that pain that I never noticed that, actually, it wasn’t really there any more. The fear of the pain had become more powerful than the pain itself.

So here I am, a few weeks later, in fear-recovery. My outlook has changed and I’m enjoying practising more than I have for a long time. The fear is still there of course (it’s hard to let it go) but it’s not as strong as it was. I feel like, with time, I might even be able to return to practising with the same intensity as I used to; to really let go, surrender to the practice and enjoy the experience on a daily basis.

I have always loved practising ashtanga yoga but sometimes I felt like I was playing with fire. I sometimes thought I was stupid to keep practising despite the pain I was in, but I always kept going. I feel like I’m entering a period in my journey with this practice during which my love and confidence will be fully rekindled. And I will be a better practitioner and teacher for the experiences that I’ve had.

Then again, who knows what’s in store for us, right?


The initial experience of yoga

One of my favourite things about sharing this Mysore-style ashtanga yoga with new students is how the experience of the stillness of yoga is available right from the beginning.

I’ve heard variations of this expression so many times:  “I’ve never done yoga but I know I’d be terrible at it”. Inherent in this statement  is, of course, a very big misunderstanding of what yoga is (I’ve written about this a bit before). Of course, some people find the practice a bit easier than others and that is no different to anything else in life. The important part though, the internal part, is what I’m really interested in. It’s irrelevant whether or not a student can touch their toes on day one.

It’s the struggle to touch one’s toes (or balance in Trikonasana or Utthita Hasta Padangusthasana let’s say) that is the thing that makes this practice really worthwhile. And that happens for almost everyone right from the very beginning of their journey.

The beautiful thing about ashtanga yoga is that all of us in the Mysore-style room are operating at our limits, from beginners to ‘advanced’ practitioners. And so we are all having roughly the same experience (I say ‘roughly’ because we know from our own practice that even we ourselves are not having exactly the same experience of the practice from one day to the next).

That’s what I love about this practice. You don’t have to do it for ten years before you understand the point (although it can take that long and even longer for a lot of us!!). Right from the first vinyasa of the first Surya Namaskara the experience of yoga is available to all of us, regardless of our background.


The time I gave up yoga

Sometimes being a practitioner of ashtanga yoga is blissful. Bright, warm, sunrises on the way to practice; that feeling of freedom and space in your body and mind; the shared experience and understanding you have with your fellow practitioners.

But sometimes it’s really tough.

There’s the dark, cold winter mornings (or if you’re not a morning practitioner there’s the when-do-I-eat-during-the-day problem), the stiffness, striving to achieve an asana you’re stuck on while also practising detachment from the process. The whole process can really wring you out sometimes.

And then you get injured.

And the whole thing feels like it could just grind to a halt.

In the dark days of 2009 in post celtic-tiger Ireland, Suzanne and I were living in a cold, damp, mouldy old house and I hadn’t done a gig for 6 months. We were broke and I could see my breath in the kitchen when I was making breakfast in the mornings. I was nursing torn cartilage in both knees which had been a big problem for about two years by that stage. Even though I was practising every day I really wasn’t enjoying it and I felt like my knees weren’t ever going to get any better.

So I gave up yoga.

I made the decision that I would just do some other excercise (I chose cycling) and I would just do that every morning at my usual practice time. And then I would learn a meditation practice. So, it would just be the same thing right? Healthy (or even healthier?) body and healthy mind.

I was so happy to be free from the pain and drudgery that my daily practice had become. And I really enjoyed my cycle along the coast that first morning.

But I lasted three days.

After three days I missed practising so much. I missed the daily ritual of rolling out the mat. I missed the feeling of that breath in my body. I missed moving and creating that space in my body. But mostly I missed the headspace that I had become so used to over the previous 3 or 4 years of daily practice.

I had become so accustomed to the daily benefits of ‘taking practice’ that I had started to take it all for granted. “Sure what do I need yoga for anyway, all it does is hurt my knees”. I had forgotten that so much of what was good in my life had come about because of my comittment to this practice.

And so there I was, three days later, “ekam inhale, dwe exhale”, feeling in a weird way that I had failed in my commitment to turn my back on this sometimes demanding practice, but also delighted to have made the decision that my life was better with ashtanga yoga in it.

We all go through our ups and downs, both in life and in practice, and for me I had to fully stop in order to truly appreciate what I had. As Otis Redding said “You don’t miss your water, till your well runs dry”.

I haven’t looked back since.

 


Seeking and avoiding sensation

I had a discussion with Luke Jordan last week after his visit about his overall approach to the practice and, more specifically, to teaching. Luke said that his main focus when teaching is towards keeping the students fully present, connected and engaged with the practice from one moment to the next. One way that he does this is by getting the students to focus on the sensations that they are feeling in the body. Pretty simple but very effective.

That set me thinking about our individual relationships to sensation in the body during yoga practice.

Like almost everything in life there is a balance to be found between seeking out sensation in the asanas and avoiding sensation altogether. We can end up in trouble if we favour either.

My experience of seeking out, and going further into, bodily sensations in the asanas is that there is potential for injury and for creating unhealthy patterns of movement, especially in the joints (notice I only say potential here). The idea that we should be feeling discomfort in the asanas is not quite right. Conversely, it is almost impossible to feel totally comfortable all the time, especially when we are learning a new asana (as Sharath always says, “You get a new asana, you get a new pain”!).

If, however, we avoid uncomfortable sensations in the body there is potential for us to get stuck into old physiological patterns that are not really useful or healthy. Most of us, when we are doing asanas, try to do them in a way that is most comfortable for our particular body (naturally). But the policy of sensation-avoidance can result in us never really experiencing the full benefits of each asana. That is, when we practise the same asana for many years without bringing our full awareness to where the restrictions are in the body, we can limit the transformative potential of each asana.

So, there’s a trade off here between seeking and avoiding ‘feelings’ in the body.

Where does that leave us? Confused, probably. It’s not an easy conundrum to solve.

I would suggest that becoming aware of our own patterns is the first step. Become aware of whether you are seeking out or avoiding sensation in the body in each asana that you practice. You’ll usually find that this varies from asana to asana because we all have different areas of physical tension and physical freedom. If you can become fully aware of these habits then they will automatically stop. There’s no need for you to actively try to go deeper into comfort or discomfort, it will happen once you shine the light of awareness on your tendencies.

I talk a lot about the more subtle aspects of yoga practice but we must not forget that we are using the physical asanas as the tool to gain the mental, emotional and spiritual benefits of the practice. That means that, if we can bring the full power of our attention to what we are feeling and experiencing in the asanas in each moment, then the inner benefits of the practice will come to us automatically.

I’ll leave you with more words of wisdom from Luke:

“We spend so much of our lives up in our heads. We need to become aware of what is happening in the body”.

And don’t forget to breathe.

Patanjali Yoga Sutras II:46

Sthira sukham asanam

Asana should be steady/stable/firm and comfortable

 

 


Ashtanga Yoga Nationwide

We’re right in the middle of an intense week with Luke Jordan at the shala. One of my favourite things about a travelling teacher like Luke Jordan coming to Dublin is the way in which the whole community of practitioners comes together in one place at one time.

There are so many people practising ashtanga yoga in Ireland these days and not everyone is so lucky to be living near a teacher and a community of other practitioners. Having a great teacher come and visit is a great incentive for those students to travel and be part of the buzz of a large group of practitioners for a few days. Then there’s also the students from different shalas/teachers all coming together and getting to know each other a little bit.

I know I talk about this a lot but we are all so reliant on each other as practitioners. It is rare to be able to practise ashtanga yoga intensely and consistently on your own. Some people can do it, but most of us really struggle to keep up that passion and drive on a daily basis. That’s why we need teachers to maintain shalas (or regular classes at least) so that we can draw energy and inspiration for our practice, not just from the teacher but also from the other students.

We are social animals. So much so that – as many studies have shown – the more and the stronger our social connections are the longer our lives will be. We literally die younger if we are not part of a thriving community. And the bad news is that our communities in general are becoming more fragmented as each generation passes. That’s why being part of a group of individuals with similar goals and values is such a powerful thing. So, enjoy being part of this great community of practitioners in Ireland. It’s irrelevant who your teacher is or which shala you go to, or even if you practise alone all the time; when we get an opportunity to come together it’s always a positive thing.

The effect of being part of this ashtanga community is that it supports our personal practice and makes it easier to maintain. Then the benefits can spread into the wider community.

There were almost 50 students who came to the shala to practice the other day (between Luke’s class in the morning and my evening class that day). That’s 50 people who will interact with a lot more people during the course of their own day. The effect of 50 happy, healthy people leaving the shala and going out into the world can only be a good thing.

I’m not one to evangelise about the benefits of yoga practice to everyone I meet (this blog being the obvious exception) but I think that, as students of yoga, we can be a beacon to others who could benefit from this in their own lives. We are all examples of the positive effects of yoga practice on our lives and, in a wide sense, we can raise the level of health, happiness and consciousness of everyone we come into contact with.

So, enjoy being part of the ashtanga community, both in your own shala and in a wider sense, and for those of you who practise alone, know that the community is always there to support you when you need it.

Thanks also to Luke for his visit, and for bringing us all together for this short time.


Satisfaction comes from within

Happiness and satisfaction don’t come from material goods or external attainments.

Everybody knows that.

It’s so well known by us all in fact that it has become a cliche. When we hear this advice we don’t even pay it any attention any more. “Yeah, of course, I know that”.

The thing is that, most of the time, we live our lives and make important decisions as if we’re completely unaware of this fundamental truth of human life.

“If I had a big house I’d be happy.”

“If I had a cool car I’d be happy.”

“If I could just afford those Manolo Blahnik’s I’d be happy”

We know that this stuff is all nonsense. We would never even say any of this stuff out loud (or even think it consciously). Because it’s foolish. Everyone knows that happiness comes from within…

So instead, we say

“I wish I had a slightly bigger house, life would be a bit easier”, (cut to daydream of living in a beautiful house with a happy face)

“Those new 6 series BMWs are nice. I could definitely see myself in one of those”, (cut to daydream of driving around with a happy face in a BMW)

“Man, I would look sooooo hot in those Manolo Blahnik’s, and everyone would know how cool – and rich – I was if I had them”, (cut to… you get the idea)

In all of these imaginary scenarios that play out in our minds we end up happy. We are completely fooling ourselves if we think that we’re not falling into the trap of seeking happiness in ‘things’. We’re just not stupid enough to say the words “if I had (insert desirable item here) then I’d be happy”.

BUT WE STILL THINK IT!

I mean, what the hell is wrong with us?!

Every spiritual tradition in history tells us that true happiness comes from within but yet we cannot fully grasp how to really make ourselves believe it.

The Yoga Sutras say that the six poisons of the mind are desire, anger, delusion, greed, envy, and sloth.

Next time you’re feeling dissatisfaction, frustration, or depression try to become aware of which of these poisons are at work (often it’s a combination of two or more). Becoming aware of your own mind is the first step towards solving the problem.

Once you have identified the cause then the solution is usually pretty simple. If anger is causing you pain, you try to let it go. If sloth is causing you pain then move your body. If you become aware that delusion is your problem then you’ve probably just solved that problem (because how can you delude yourself while you know that you’re deluding yourself?).

I am of course hugely over-simplifying the process of becoming aware. But it is important for our long-term emotional health and fulfilment that we begin the journey towards awareness.

For those of us with an interest in yoga practice, reading the yoga sutras can be a huge help in identifying common mental patterns that humans are prone to. We can then begin to deconstruct the, sometimes unhealthy, narrative in our minds.

And don’t stop practising. Never stop practising.

 


Fanning the spark

I’m a regular listener  to the Rich Roll podcast. It’s a very popular podcast and I’m sure some of you will have heard of it. For those of you who haven’t, Rich Roll is an endurance triathlete who has a background in competing at ultra-ironman distance triathlons. “Ultraman” is a three-day race consisting of (day 1): a 10km swim followed by a 145km bike ride, (day 2): a 276km bike ride, and (day 3): an 84km double marathon! And I thought primary series was hard…

I think his podcast is great; long-form interviews with some of the world’s most interesting and inspirational figures in sport, health, diet, politics, business and more.

I was listening to a panel discussion the other day between Rich Roll and Marco Borges in which they were talking about veganism (Rich Roll also happens to be a vegan and an advocate for following a plant-based diet). It’s a point that I have heard Rich make on a good few occasions on the podcast and I wanted to share it with you and how it relates to ashtanga yoga.

The point is that, within the vegan movement, there are many people who take a very hard line on what other people should and shouldn’t be doing. For example if a celebrity says they are going to follow a vegan diet for 30 days they get abuse online for only doing it for 30 days. If someone starts to follow a plant-based diet but doesn’t immediately throw out all of their leather shoes they get called a disgrace. The list goes on.

The point the two speakers were making is that, rather than pointing fingers and judging each other, what the vegan movement needs to do in order to grow is to ‘fan the spark’ of anyone who comes to it with any sort of interest.

I feel like this is very closely related to ashtanga yoga. I have seen so many teachers and students of this method judging other people based on the various criteria of what they personally consider to be ‘correct method’ (how often they practice, how they practise, even how far along in the series they are… seriously!).

I would like to propose to the wider ashtanga yoga teaching community that we need to make more effort to ‘fan the spark’ of practitioners who are coming to ashtanga yoga and Mysore-style regardless of their background, who their last teacher was, what they practised before (anti-Bikram snobs I’m looking at you), and even their level of apparent commitment.

Not everyone is going to walk into a Mysore-style class, love it, and then commit to practising every day for the rest of their lives. We need to meet people where they are at and not judge them for trying and failing to establish their practice in a way that we deem valuable. The beauty of ashtanga yoga is that it is a useful tool for many of the afflictions that humans are susceptible to. It is useful to practise regularly and it is less useful to practise sporadically but, even sporadic practice, if done in the right way, has huge benefits on many levels.

If we fan the spark, rather than pouring cold water on it, the potential for practitioners to develop a practice over a number of years is hugely increased. Then we might see the practice spreading even wider and, who knows, even becoming a mainstream thing. If that happens we all know that the world will be a happier, healthier place.


The value of learning a practice

A couple of times over the past few weeks I had the new experience of being confronted by first-time students over the value of Mysore-style method of practising. Both of these new students had already done a lot of ashtanga yoga classes before (I didn’t ask where) but they had never done a Mysore-style class.

So, as I almost always do, I spent a lot of time carefully explaining exactly what our approach is and then I proceeded to teach the sun salutations and the beginning of the primary series (any of you out there who teach Mysore-style will know that you have to give a lot of attention to new students, both so that they learn the practice correctly and also so that you can get to know them and their bodies). It is always our intention to send new students away with something that they can practice at home, even if it’s just Surya Namaskara A. Most students appreciate this, and see the value in learning the practice for themselves.

But occasionally you can see that this way of teaching doesn’t sit well with certain students. In my experience it’s usually the ones who have already attended a lot of led classes and are new to Mysore-style who end up having problems with it.

Here is the main problem: When you go regularly to a led ashtanga class for a long time you end up getting through quite a lot, or even all, of the primary series. But, unless you’re exceptionally switched-on and have a really good memory, you don’t actually memorise any of the sequences of poses (let alone the correct vinyasa for each one). Then, when you come to a Mysore-style class we get you to memorise the beginning of the series (we could, of course, bring you through the entire primary series but that’s not really the idea behind Mysore-style) and you are limited in how far you get by how good your memory is, not by how much stamina you have or by how flexible or strong you are. This can be frustrating.

The experience in your first few Mysore-style classes can be “I can do waaaay more than what I’m being taught here”, and  “I thought yoga was supposed to be about switching off my mind; they’re making me really think a lot here”. Then, after the class, these two particular students who I mentioned at the beginning both said that they didn’t feel that great feeling that they usually get after doing their ‘regular’ class. Well, of course not, they only practised the sun salutations and the first few poses of the series.

It’s a tricky thing sometimes, trying to sell people on the benefits of this way of practising when they don’t think there’s anything wrong with the way they were doing it before. But here are my thoughts on why you need to persevere and get over that initial resistance:

Please don’t get me wrong here, there are some great teachers out there who, for one reason or another, are only teaching led ashtanga classes but the majority of ashtanga led classes are, in my opinion ‘exercise’ classes as opposed to ‘yoga’ classes. The ashtanga yoga primary series is a fantastic exercise routine and so there is, of course, huge benefit to practising it in any setting. However, if we are ever to go deeper with the practice so that it affects not only our bodies but our minds, emotions, and way of life we are eventually going to need to go much deeper than is possible in the typical led class. When we learn the series ourselves and remove the external stimulus of having to be talked through the whole series, we are narrowing our focus considerably. Then ekāgratā (single-pointed focus) has more potential to arise.

Once you learn the ashtanga yoga method for yourself it is yours forever. It is a practice which you can do for decades, slowly refining and going deeper into its many aspects. And you’ll still get all the physical benefits that you were getting before in the led classes.

If you practice for a long time, without interruption the potential is there for you to experience quiet and stillness on a profound level and even to get a glimpse of your real self, the self that is untouched by modern existence. This is spelled out for us very clearly by Patanjali in the first 16 verses of the first chapter of the yoga sutras.

  • 1:2 Yoga is the stilling of the mind.
  • 1:3 When the mind is still the seer sees his/her true self.
  • 1:4 At all other times the seer identifies themselves with their thoughts.
  • 1:14 The mind can be stilled through practice and detachment.
  • 1:16 Practice is firmly established when done for a long time without interruption and with a positive attitude.

I’m not saying that none of this is possible in a led class but I am saying it is much more possible to experience what Patanjali is describing when we take ownership of and responsibility for our own practice.

Some people, of course, will disagree.

If you are thinking of transitioning from led classes to Mysore-style remember:

  • The object of yoga practice is to quiet the mind. At the very beginning of your experience with Mysore-style you will find that your mind is busier than it was in the led classes, because you are having to think and remember all the vinyasas. After a short while of practising in this way you will find, however, that it is possible to go much deeper into the experience of stillness as there are much less external stimuli.
  • You will generally do less than what your body is able for in the first few classes. This is so that you can remember everything that you need to. We could teach you the whole series but, if we did that, you wouldn’t remember any of it. Be patient.
  • You might not feel that post-yoga-glow that you experienced in the led classes right away. After only a few classes you’ll be back up to the same number of poses that you did before but, this time, you’ll know it yourself and will be able to recreate that feeling anytime and anywhere by practising alone wherever you are.
  • Yoga is a personal practice. It becomes personal when you take ownership of it.

 


A great question

Those of you who come to the shala regularly will know Joanne. She’s there a lot, and she’s very chatty!

Anyway I love the way Joanne thinks about the practice, and about life in general, and she asked this great question just before we went on our retreat last weekend:

“Whilst struggling with marichasana A Suzanne said to me, “this is preparation for putting your leg behind your head”. Since then I’ve been asking myself, why on earth does one need to be able to put their leg behind their head?”

Before you read on, I’d like you just to have a think about that. It’s easy to get so caught up in this ashtanga yoga practice that we stop questioning it at all. You might think to yourself, “well it’s so that you can do supta kurmasana when you get to it” or “it opens up your hips”.

But that doesn’t answer the question really. It just creates another question: “why do you want to open up your hips?” for example.

We could ask a similar question about every yoga posture really, and the range of answers from most people would be the same: So that you can do the next posture , or so that you can lengthen the hamstrings/open the hips/build more strength etc.

But doing the next posture isn’t really the point of yoga practice. Neither is lengthening the hamstrings or making your back more flexible. Not really anyway. Not really really.

Patanjali is very clear right at the beginning of the yoga sutras. In the second sutra he says:

“Yogaś citta vṛtti nirodhaḥ”

Yoga is the stilling of the mind

So, in that context why would we want to get our leg behind our head?

Because it takes such a monumental effort of concentration (it’s not something one does absent-mindedly is it!) that we have the potential, in that moment, to come closer to stilling our minds than ever before.

The same applies to every other posture. And that is why, as one posture starts to become easy we are given the next challenge along the road. The postures are simply tools that we can use to still our minds. When this becomes our focus it all starts to make more sense.

So go forth and be still!

Thanks Joanne.