Despite the plausibility of good intentions, the yoga industry’s emphasis on transformation around the new year feels a bit too opportunistic. Personal transformation may come as a natural progression in the context of yoga practice but the process is greatly hindered when the concept is used as a dangling carrot to sell memberships.
Owners of yoga centers know that some welcome maximization of profits can be had by working the new years resolution angle, offering a special deal that counts on the fact that most people are not going to make good on it. But exploiting human insecurities for financial gain goes against my broader purpose. Such are the ways of a reluctant businessman.
I’m not nay-saying new years resolutions or transformation. If some change is warranted and the mental will to help bring it about can be summoned then, by all means, be bold and go forth with a true intention. However, in my experience, transformation rarely comes in a flash from some flamboyant push. Real and lasting change tends to occur in a gradual and subtle way as a result of persistent effort, often recognized only in retrospect.
Instead of touting transformation, I propose we celebrate survival.
Like the modern equivalent of a Shakespearean fool, Chris Rock astutely noted that little credit or praise is bestowed for simply “banging out the rent.” The notion of success has become so linked to an emaciated body and a bloated bank account that it becomes difficult to recognize or appreciate the many small and profoundly important feats we accomplish daily.
In last months’ consideration of The Daunting Work Before Us, I attempted to stare down life’s hardship with stark honesty and a whimsical tongue. While this may have made for some needed catharsis and empathetic reading, it did not provide much solace or inspiration.
Fortunately, I since had the pleasure of hosting a friend and fellow teacher from San Francisco named Chase Bossart. He is the co-founder of a not-for-profit organization called the Healing Yoga Foundation and a genuine scholar of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra. He proffered that we don’t actually have as much control over what happens to us as we might like to think. In many respects, we are just along for the ride.
The suggestion is not that life is predetermined or that we have no say in the matter, only that our ability to influence events is limited. Chase compared the way yoga practice affects change to a gardener growing a tomato plant (some may remember the theme from Mind-Body Connection Optional?.)
The gardener has no way of knowing if the plant will thrive or how many tomatoes it will produce but if the seed is planted in fertile soil and tended to carefully, providing the right mix of water, light and patience then, chances are, the plant will produce more tomatoes than otherwise.
Yoga does not transform anyone. Life does that all by itself.
All we can really do is tend to our gardens and hope for the best. Some years, unforeseen drought or swarms of parasitic bugs may wreak havoc and leave us with only roots. Other years, we have abundance. Regardless, we can always plant anew. Even a skeptic like myself can’t deny that the cycle of life carries on nonetheless.
This morning, for the first time, my two year old daughter said: “I love you Daddy.” Her sweet little words of unadulterated affection left me in awe at the actuality of how things are taking place. The work ahead may be daunting but there is no doubt that the rewards, when they come, are worth our efforts. Joy behooves us to survive.
Is it just me or did 2011 feel like a complete wash? Nothing particularly horrible or great stands out. The small triumph of not letting daily mundane tribulations get the best of me may not rank high on a scorecard but I am nonetheless grateful for having managed to get through relatively unscathed.
An ever-increasing work load that has yet to yield exponential fruits has created an eerie sense of foreboding that makes it difficult to be optimistic. I simply can’t bear any more dashed hope.
This season usually brings with it a strange mix of good intentions, capitalistic undertones and some sort of promise for the future. January is always the biggest attendance month for yoga centers as everyone becomes resolute to do more. I too am usually inclined to take advantage of a turn in calendar to bolster a rosier-colored lens.
Not this year. Idealism has its limits and if the last year is any indication of the rate of change and prosperity going forward then I think we need to prepare ourselves for a long haul. I plan to keep expectations low and bide my time until pleasant surprises are forthcoming.
Recently, I had a dialogue with a fellow yoga teacher who questioned the wisdom of suggesting that we “not push ourselves.” She comes to yoga from a more structural anatomy standpoint and her contention was that this measured sentiment amounts to avoiding “hard” work that needs to be done.
The capacity for yoga practice to effect anatomical change is an interesting topic for another post, but what is relevant here is that attempts to impose anatomical restructuring on a body, divorced from the life situation that is its context, is largely a futile effort.
No amount of strong asana is going to bring in some more money or magically rework the family budget so that my wife and I can explore having a second child without feeling irresponsible. The careful refinement of alignment that I have cultivated for so much of my adult life doesn’t unclench my jaw while I sleep at night.
Right now, most of the folks I meet are working harder than ever before. They don’t need a kick in the ass. They just need to catch a break, which seems to be in awfully short supply these days.
So many of us are already totally over-extended. We keep unreasonable schedules and then blame ourselves when we are not able to do all we want. Something has got to give.
I am a proponent of consistent practice. Given all the experiences that we have no control over but that shape our lives, the benefits of a skillful means to affect our own system favorably are invaluable. I don’t know how I would be getting through without my breathing and moving exercises.
I just think it’s important to be clear about where the real work is, and keep the role of physical practice in perspective. If we make Yoga practice about poses instead of about people then we miss the whole point.
Of course we want to make every effort to encourage change and fashion things more to our liking; however, there is only so much effort that is actually useful. If our efforts are untimely or misdirected then we end up just banging our heads against a wall.
Maybe this year, instead of blowing whatever new years motivation we have in one desperate push that barely makes it to February, let’s keep that motivation close to the chest and dole it out incrementally.
At the intersection of innermost wishes and life’s stark hardship is where the daunting work before us lies. The “hard” work of yoga takes place wherever life is most pressing, when we are confronted by that enigmatic obstacle to a sense of harmony despite the uncertainty.
Flipping through the catalog for a big name yoga and retreat center, I was shocked to notice that they advertised their yoga teacher training programs as “Yoga Alliance Approved.” Misrepresentations like this are the dirty little secret of the yoga industry. No one really wants to admit there is no accreditation for Yoga.
Anyone who claims to be “approved”, “certified” or “licensed” by the YA is either grossly uninformed or disingenuous. The YA maintains a registry of yoga teachers and training programs. In filling out the paperwork and paying the fees, yoga teachers and training programs purport to follow a vague set of curriculum guidelines that are posted on the YA website and assume a service mark of RYT (Registered Yoga Teacher) or RYS (Registered Yoga School.)
What no one ever seems to acknowledge or mention is that the YA provides no oversight whatsoever. No one checks to see if anyone is actually doing what they say. Everyone is on the “honor” system. Consequently, the registry amounts to a digital rubber stamp or paid advertising. Not to mention, the YA does not disclose what they do with the money they collect from the Yoga community.
Even if everyone is being true to their word, referring to the YA guidelines as “standards” is quite a stretch. For example, being registered at the 200 hr level is said to have 20 hours of yoga philosophy. Generally, this entails a cursory reading of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra’s and a written test, kind of like reading the chapter and answering the summary questions in my 9th grade social studies class.
Given the profound diversity of texts and interpretations that exist within Yoga philosophy, simply designating 20 hours of time means absolutely nothing.
Don’t get me wrong, I feel strongly about Yoga teachers and schools being held to high standards. My point is that Yoga is not an academic pursuit. Attempts to standardize Yoga training into a set of requisite hours completely undermines yoga pedagogy, which is not contingent on time.
“Standards” implies greater quality, not a specific quantity of time spent on who knows what. If we want to encourage more qualified yoga teachers, lets start talking about “competencies” instead of hours and, more importantly, lets be straightforward with the public so they can make informed choices.
Brian Castellani, founder of yoganomics.net, has been leading a personal crusade to hold the YA to account for its misgivings. Initially, he was hoping to bring integrity back to the YA but, as he has continued to dig into the YA’s activities and policies, his sentiments have changed. He recounts a conversation with Jeanine Frest, the longest standing employee of the YA up until she quit in 2010, where she said, “Maybe it would be better to scrap everything and start over.”
I can already hear my wife’s criticism of this post. When I mentioned to her the topic I was taking on, she said, “Oh really? I think its better when you stay ‘positive’ like last month’s thing on Nurturing.” She thinks I do myself a disservice by inviting controversy and she is probably right.
I almost heeded her call until a recent exchange with an editor at the megalith of yoga-related publishing. She told me that the credo for their bloggers is “What are you adding to the conversation?” I didn’t think it wise to speak my mind as freely as I might but what I really wanted to say was, “What conversation?”
As far as I can tell, there is not much of a real conversation happening. In risking the ire of others, I suppose I’m hoping to get one started. I don’t think holding the Yoga industry’s feet to the fire by shining a light on hypocrisies and inconsistencies is negative. In fact, Yoga encourages this sort of discernment.
Yoga also encourages truthfulness. The fact that the only trade organization offering a title to Yoga professionals is not an example of being truthful does not speak well to the profession of Yoga.
At the very least, any trade organization that wants to represent the yoga community must operate with complete transparency and accountability. Members of that organization must also do the same. Anything less is a discredit to Yoga and deserves scrutiny.
Trolling yoga blogs and the comment threads that ensue reveals a prevailing sentiment of tough love. Sure, there are a few hold-outs from the sixties still hanging around but the new breed of yogi is way too savvy to be fooled by any fluff and seems more interested in what you can do than how what you do makes you think or behave.
A musician friend and student was telling me about his last tour. He was at a party after a show with some of the other bands that played on the bill. Apparently, a guy from another band was into Yoga and heard that my friend was also a practitioner. The conversation went something like:
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Hey.”
“I heard you do you Yoga.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Can you do headstand to crow?”
In and of itself, two dudes hanging out at a party after a rock-n-roll show talking about Yoga is a testament to Yoga’s new status in our culture. Back in the day, I was consistently the only man in class and, if it ever came up at a party, my inclination for Yoga was usually met with little more than a blank stare. Few people, men or women, had any frame of reference for Yoga much less a knowledge of headstand to crow.
When I chose to make Yoga my life direction, it was a decidedly un-cool thing to do. In fact, Yoga represented letting go of a need for external approval or recognition in favor of a greater sense of personal well-being and fulfillment. Sometime in the last fifteen years, my decision to abandon cool kid status has backfired. Yoga is the new hip.
Yoga teachers are headlining Lolapalooza-like events and referring to variations of downdog as “rockstar pose.” There are talent agencies for yoga teachers, celebrity endorsements and reality TV shows in the works. Yoga is now an undeniable marketing demographic and has spawned a muti-billion dollar industry.
Unfortunately, what is selling yoga as cool is not really all that cool.
I suppose its understandable that the grander displays of physicality found in classical Yoga marry well with advertising exploits and western workout mentality. Certainly, yoga poses can be used to challenge people to do more than they think possible. However, suffering through rigorous, sometimes injurious, practice routines with the idea that we will potentially accomplish some unknown something at some unknown point or perpetuating a subtle form of body dysmorphia around ideas of alignment and perfection is patently not cool.
For me, the key to making my practice effective was cultivating a nurturing sentiment. Whenever I suggest the importance of a nurturing sentiment, even right now, there is a voice in the back of my head that says, “Really? A nurturing sentiment? That’s the best you can do?” Nurturing is not generally thought of as all that cool, it definitely doesn’t look as neat as a flying crow pose.
The case against nurturing always seems to get chalked up to discipline. Thus, the tough love model. Yoga requires discipline and some find this is best achieved by overbearing means. I cannot deny the proven efficiency of austere practice in imposing discipline. For those so inclined, this may be the best route to take.
However, for a whole lot of us, discipline achieved at the forceful hand of an outside suggestion is often short lived. Just as a caring parent might discipline their child in a different manner than a drill sergeant does a soldier, nurturing and discipline are not mutually exclusive.
My two year old daughter has recently begun to require some discipline. I can get her to do what I need her to do by being stern and forceful with her but it usually requires a great deal of effort, involves some considerable whining and is only so good as I am standing there and making sure it is so.
If I have my wits about me a bit more than I can often achieve the same ends by merely setting the proper conditions and allowing enough space for her to arrive at the decision to do what I need her to do herself. Then, the next time, she often will do the right thing because she is the one who decided to make it so.
Regardless of how we choose to bring about the discipline needed to be well, most of us could probably benefit from some nurturing. If nurturing is considered to be somehow weak, naive or cheesy then I think we are really in trouble. I contend that Yoga is best when it feels unconditional and nurturing. Nurturing is what makes Yoga cool.
Ever heard the one about the Dalai Lama and the hotdog vendor? Make me one with everything. This has always been my favorite joke. Recently, I was made aware of how, like a lot of effective humor, the punchline is based on a not so funny premise.
As an astute Shakespearean scholar once pointed out: “As long as there is pain and suffering in the world, there will always be something to laugh at.”
Exploitation of yoga in advertising is nothing new. When a product wants to associate with a low-stress or healthy lifestyle, invariably, the commercial features people doing yoga poses. Increasing popularity of yoga makes the marketing demographic undeniable.
A recent Advil campaign has taken this phenomenon to another level. Instead of merely showing imagery of yoga practice, there is an actual yoga teacher addressing the camera directly as spokesperson. She says:
“If I have any soreness, I’m not going to be able to do my job. Once I take Advil, I’ll be able to finish my day and finish off strong. I always find myself going back to Advil. It really works.”
In a previous post, Mind-Body Connection Optional?, I expressed views regarding appropriate practice and drew some distinctions between physical fitness and Yoga. I want to acknowledge that, even in the course of an appropriate practice, there is sometimes an amount of soreness that is felt as a body is conditioned. Also, I don’t think there is anything fundamentally wrong with taking Advil. In fact, I’m sure there are occasions when two Advil might be quite a blessing.
However, if a yoga teacher’s work is making them sore to the point that it actually impedes their ability to do their job then I feel compelled to suggest that something is awry in that teachers yoga. I can’t escape the strong opinion that effective yoga practice would prevent a need for taking Advil, not create it.
I have only been in one fight. It was in the third grade. I don’t recall what the impetus was but it ended up in a war of words between me and another boy on the basketball court. I remember deciding to hit him but when I went to strike my arm went slack. It was as if my body overrode my minds directive and I was incapable of trying to harm him.
The other boy did not have the same issue and I was quickly pinned and squirming to be free. The only black girl in our class, La Tisha, came to my aid and pushed him off of me before he got any punches in. We were friends and no one messed with La Tisha.
I can trace my inclination for yoga back to that day. I learned something important about myself. I am not naturally inclined towards violence. Even as a boy, I recognized that this was not true of everyone. As an adult, it makes sense that I embrace a life philosophy that puts a premium on nonviolence.
The first yama of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra’s is ahimsa, often translated as “non-harming.” Aligning myself with Yoga turned something that I had always seen as a weakness into a strength.
Yet, somewhere along the way, an unconscious loophole developed. While I was incapable of intentionally doing others wrong, I seemed to have no problem doing considerable inadvertent harm to myself. In fairness, I was under the impression that I was working towards enlightenment and did not grasp the full extent to which I was mistreating myself.
I continually assert that yoga practice encompasses more than physical fitness. As much as I generally try to avoid admitting it, this does implicitly question whether the use of yoga poses for physical fitness alone can even be considered yoga practice. My interpretation of what constitutes a yoga practice aside for now, I am thinking of a specific example where a principle of exercise science is at odds with a holistic perspective.
I have this tendency to be overly provocative, sometimes to a fault. I have managed to temper this but, as discussed last month, changing old patterns requires continued attention.
The title of this post is a perfect example. You see, I really wanted to call it “F*** Union with the Divine” but I decided to exercise my better judgement. Indulging in my taste for irreverence is immensely satisfying; however, incendiary language can easily put folks off and the intended sentiments are lost in my fancy for stirring the pot.
That I have matured only so far is evidenced by the fact that I still can’t resist finding a way to get it in here anyways. At least, I didn’t drop an f-bomb straightway in the title, asterisk-coated or not.
I have traced my relapse back to an email I recently received from Yoga Journal Magazine. The topic of the newsletter was Bhakti Yoga and the opening paragraph stated:
“It’s ultimate goal, like any other form of yoga, is self-realization and union with the Divine.”
My wife and daughter have been away for almost two weeks and I have reverted to the ways of my bachelorhood. This morning, I was forced to do dishes only because there were no more cereal bowls left. Even worse, I only washed one bowl so I could eat and then put it back on the stack when I was done.
All the dishes will be clean before they get back. I value my marriage too much to allow my wife to ever see our kitchen sink in such a state of disregard. This is a testament to the benefits of partnership. Pleasing my wife makes me a better person by mitigating my tendency towards sloth.
The dishes in the sink are really only a symptom of a deeper strain. This week also marks 22 years ago that my mother died. I have written about how reconciling her passing led me to Yoga and an appreciation of life’s inherent worth (see How I Came to Yoga) but the pang of grief and the uncertainty in life that death so starkly reveals can just as easily trigger a more foreboding outlook.
Let there be no doubt that life can be severely ironic. Two weeks after I sent out remarks on the sacrifices my wife was making for our family, she got laid off from that soul-sucking job that was providing us health insurance.
She worked at the same company for more than six years. They gave her three days notice. Corporate management sure is cruel in its inhumanity. The health insurance racket is even worse.
Fortunately, our situation is not dire. We’ve been biding our time and planning for her to leave that job eventually. Proactively changing a situation that is currently working feels foolhardy, even when the need is obvious. The forces that be must have felt we were dragging our feet a little too much and decided to intercede on our behalf. Funny how life does that sometimes.
Does life ever get easier? Short answer: no. I realize that doesn’t sound altogether yogic. Not to mention, it was only last month that I waxed poetic on living through the difficulty of winter as the fertile soil of new possibilities. While those ideas hold true and offer some useful perspective, I must admit, they are of little comfort when the rubber meets the road and the tires are running a bit flat.
Maybe its because taxes are looming or because I have been watching too much cable news but I can’t seem to shake this proverbial carrot from dangling out in front of me that says if only I made more money than everything would be so much easier. Despite the common moral stories to the contrary, it sure seems like more money would solve some issues.
This time of year I always recall a passage from an obscure little book called Light On the Path:
“Look for the flower to bloom in the silence that follows the storm; not till then. It shall grow, it will shoot up, it will make branches and leaves and form buds, while the storm continues, while the battle lasts.
Then will come a calm such as comes in a tropical country after the heavy rain, when nature works so swiftly that one may see her action. Such a calm will come to the harassed spirit.
Many of you have been privy to the evolution of these posts over the last year. Somewhere along the way, I started thinking of it less as advertising and more an honest inquiry and exchange of thought. My inspiration has been largely fueled by your responses.
That anyone even reads this much less takes a moment to send me a note of appreciation feels like some small triumph of the soul, awash in this sea of zeros and ones we call the internet. In particular, two recent correspondences have spurred the sentiments I wish to finish this year with and carry into the new.
My daughter is the best yoga teacher ever. Observing her as she comes into the wonderment of her own body for the first time is the ultimate example. She has learned to bring herself to standing by holding on to the side of her crib and hoisting herself up. Now, whenever she is placed in her crib she must practice. We have difficulty getting her down to sleep because she is so enthralled with her new sense of facility.
She looks at me as if to say, “Isn’t this amazing?”And I say, “Yes. It is. Isn’t it?”
Since my previous note post about the adage: no steps need to be taken, I happened into some deep philosophical debate on this topic with several prominent yoga teachers of another bent than myself. The sticking point between us represents a fundamental difference of view.
The non-dual interpretation of Yoga that I espouse is often signified by the adage: no steps need to be taken. I have grappled with this adage. Mostly, I wrote it off as a cliche of sorts like “Carpe Diem” or “you could walk outside right now and get hit by a bus.” I am intellectually sympathetic to the idea that life is best lived in the present but have found this of little consolation when the strains of life begin to bear down.
J. Brown is a yoga teacher, writer and founder of 
