Reverence: a summer of practicing astanga yoga.

I’ve been teaching yoga full time for about four years now.   And have been practicing for about six.    You could say I’m a teacher & practitioner of no fixed tradition.   In our training we called ourselves “yoga pirates” - borrowing from all traditions, piecing together classes & practices with aspects taken from an open exploration of all avenues of yoga.  We always had a guiding principle of Iyengar alignment as a background to our exploration - and so when in doubt, I would refer to "Light on Yoga" or “Yoga the Iyengar Way” for alignment & sequencing ideas.   Thankfully, I’m an avid student of yoga and have been able to piece together classes that have been educational, meaningful and explorative for my students

About 18 months ago after leaving the studio in which I trained, I began practicing in an Astanga studio.   Not long after, I began teaching in this studio.  During the time I worked at the astanga studio, I went to a handful of astanga classes but did not commit to the practice.   I felt the practice “wasn’t for me”.   I couldn’t imagine committing to a practice that was the same day in and day out, full of postures I felt uncomfortable in, or that I wasn’t very good at.   Eventually, I left the studio as our family moved to a nearby rural community and I opened up a small backyard studio.

I thought having a backyard studio would be a wonderful way for me to build a disciplined practice.  Except, every time I got on the mat I wasn’t sure what my practice actually was.   I’d work through flow sequences, maybe do a little bit of yin or restorative.   I felt my practice weakening, and my desire to get on the mat wained as did my passion for teaching.

This summer, I decided to head back to the studio and give astanga a try.   I remember the first practice (well, the first 10 or so really) so clearly.  I spent the entire time wondering why on earth I had decided to practice astanga.   I resisted so much of the practice.   I was not good at it.   I didn’t like all the poses.   How could someone who has been teaching for 4 years struggle so much with a single practice?    My ego was crushed.   I’ve been teaching, and practicing for 4 years.  Borrowing the things I LIKED from various yoga traditions.   I was GOOD at what I taught, and the poses I enjoyed practicing.

The thing about astanga - is that it doesn’t change.   Ever.    You always do Janu Sirsasana A, B, C.   You always do Marichyasana A, B, C, D.   Even if you don’t want to.   There’s always Urdhva Dhanurasana waiting for you, or uplithi waiting patiently at the end of practice when you’re feeling tired and sore.   You know what is coming, and you accept it.  Sometimes I feel a little bit like Mr. Bean singing with the chorus in church:

The poses I know and like, I rock those out.  The others I just murmur my way though, hoping I’m flying under the radar so that I don’t have to repeat or do them again (*cough* chakrasana).    Because, in all my years of yoga piracy - this is what I have learned to do.   Take the stuff that resonates (read: the stuff that feels good) and leave the rest (read: the stuff that I don’t like to do).  The thing is - when you practice astanga yoga - you begin to realize that the reason why the practice doesn’t change is so that when you change, you notice that you have changed.   What felt downright horrid on that first day practicing astanga is feeling better.   My relationship to the postures, ability, body change every single practice and trust me, it is NEVER linear progression.    My teacher says that astanga is a practice that cultivates relationship.  Relationship with practice (the commitment loyal astangis make to getting on the mat 6 days a week),  relationship to the mind, relationship to the body.   We are learning that the body may be one way one day, and totally different another.   And that it’s okay for the body to be that way.   We feel when we have practiced without humility.  We feel when we haven’t worked to our edge.   Because the postures that we practice NEVER CHANGE.  We notice clearly when our relationship to the postures does change.  This is how we get to know ourselves through asana practice.  

I’m a flow teacher.    I flow.   There is great value in what I teach.  I teach beautiful, mindful movement linked with breath.   My students undergo a transformation that is valid, meaningful and purposeful.   I’m not writing this to discredit anything I have practiced or taught.   I’m writing this because I’ve taught this practice without truly understanding the reason & depth of meaning behind the practices I've mindlessly “borrowed” from.   What I have learned has given me greater regard and appreciation for what I use in my own sequencing and teaching.

The flow practice changes every single time I teach.   I might keep a sequence for a week - but then out it goes.     I used to teach this way out of an irreverent disregard for traditional yoga practices, for set sequences.   I have said, “I could NEVER teach, let alone practice the same sequence all the time - I like my somewhat random yet thoughtfully pieced together sequences inspired by the likes of Meghan Currie, Sadie Nardini, Shiva Rea, Krishnamacharyia, and other teachers I have studied along the way. “

There are several reasons to get on the mat.   One reason is to embody the human form artfully and with grace.   Flow allows such embodiment.   Another reason is to take your body mind and create shifts, changes, growth through dedication to practice.   And it is in this realization that I am beginning to feel reverence for, and trust in yoga (particularly the 8 limbed path of astanga yoga) as a system, as a science.    I’ve begun looking toward the 8 limbs as a pathway for cultivating authenticity and conscious living.   I’ve begun looking at the time I spend on the mat as a way to break through into places I am reluctant to go.   Discomfort happens for a reason.    Practicing at the edge of discomfort is the only way to unlock what the body is holding on to, and potentially creating real change - shifting to a new way of being.   When we only do the poses we like, we miss this important growth opportunity.

Traditional yoga is sequenced, repetitive, and challenging for a reason.   Sharon Gannon says it best when she says “through repetition the magic is forced to arise” - and of course, Pattabhi Jois also sums this up beautifully with “do your practice, and all is coming”

I no longer consider myself a yoga pirate.   I’m more of a yoga seeker.   One who is not looking to maim, murder and steal my practice from others.  Instead I am a voyager,  a yoga traveller who is gazing in at the yoga tradition with reverence, humility and respect for the teachers, gurus and practitioners who are also on this same journey toward the self.    I may not have a fixed tradition, no foothold or grounding, but I have curiosity and the utmost respect for the many ways in which people decide to practice yoga on and off the mat.    And this is what I’m going to share with you when you come to my classes.   A devotional love for this practice, and for all those who are on this path.

I’m looking forward to sharing my evolving practice with you this fall.   See my website robinhiltonyoga.com for details on where you can attend one of my classes.