Infrequent visitors to the yoga blogosphere may not be aware of the recent kerfuffle surrounding a NY Times article about how yoga will hurt you, but there also has been some mainstream media coverage on the safety of yoga.

While the article seems to have broken a few glass jaws in the broader yoga community, practitioners with a therapeutic orientation have been sounding alarms about questionable practice for years and getting nothing but flak in return. Those with the courage to take a stand and level public criticism of overly aggressive and guitar-hero-like approaches are usually written off as haters who are just jealous of the cool kids with their feet on their heads.

I’m not going to address the article directly. This has been done well enough already by voices more qualified than mine (I recommend watching Leslie Kaminoff’s three-part video response.) But I am interested in people questioning what they are doing and whether or not it is safe, even if it is a byproduct of a sensationalistic and irresponsible ploy to sell books.

Unfortunately, the subsequent conversation has largely been dominated by a reach for easy answers that avoid deeper issues. More often than not, injuries in yoga are being attributed to a lack of proper alignment or understanding of anatomy. It is said either that practitioners are not doing the poses in a technically correct way or that their teachers are not educated enough about anatomy to instruct students how to do the poses in a technically correct way.

When it comes to alignment, I find it curious to notice teachers who are are usually quite rigid in their instruction are now bending over backwards to explain how they respond to the needs of students. Specifically, I was reading an excerpt from a new book, written by a senior teacher in a classical tradition, who was considering the instruction to “straighten your leg.”

Without referring to any particular poses, the author asserts that the instruction is a “very coarse truth [that] new students need to hear” and that the way to accommodate different capabilities is to offer different “levels of truth” in the form of more detailed directives (i.e. lift the quadriceps, resist with the calf muscle, root the three corners of the feet, etc.) The suggestion is that different students need different details as they develop the fully realized truth behind “straighten your leg.”

The problem is that finding different ways of articulating the same arbitrary configuration is not an example of how to adapt to the needs of students and certainly will not make the practice any safer for the large majority of people who benefit from bending their knees. The concept of “technically correct” is open to interpretation and much of what is considered proper alignment in the classical forms is contraindicated for huge portions of the population. Thus, it is possible to have perfect alignment and still hurt yourself.

For those who are inclined to rely on science, I have written a full length article for Yoga Therapy Today magazine entitled: Does Studying Anatomy Make Yoga Safer? In the piece, I ask several prominent anatomy for yoga teachers to weigh in on the role of studying anatomy and science in making yoga safe. What I think most people might find surprising is that even the experts in the field do not agree that anatomy is the key to ensuring safety in yoga.

As Neil Pearson, clinical assistant professor at the University of British Columbia and the chair of the Pain Science Division of the Canadian Physiotherapy Association, put it: “In the end, it is not Western scientific knowledge of the human body that will make Yoga safer. Changing the students approach to the discipline of yoga and the practice of asana will create the greatest shift.”

Instead of looking to alignment and anatomy as a panacea for what ails the yoga profession, perhaps we would do better to foster a different mentality around the physical work of yoga practice that minimizes any potential risks and encourages smarter choices.

Most of the professionals I have spoken to agree that the key to safe yoga boils down to the sensitivity and adaptability of the instructor, his or her capacity for dialogue with and responsiveness to a student, and the humble confidence of knowing what you know and what you don’t know.
 

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.”

A few weeks ago, my dear friend and teacher, Mark Whitwell, came to town. He always seems to get right to the heart of matters. He turned to a woman sitting in the front and asked:

“Are you one with Life?”
She hesitated, half rolled her eyes and responded:
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
When pressed for a yes or no answer to a simple question, she relented:
“Sure.”

I imagine that many of us would be equally reluctant to answer “yes” to the question of whether we are one with Life. Probably because it often seems otherwise.

When I came to yoga as a young man, I didn’t like myself much. I thought there must be something wrong with me because I had all this pain and confusion I was experiencing. I did not think of myself as a whole person and was striving to achieve or find an unknown something that I perceived to be obviously lacking.

Torturing my body made perfect sense. Seemed like the right thing to do and, frankly, there were approaches and philosophies in Yoga that certainly encouraged me to treat myself in a less than nurturing manner.

Fortunately, I’ve come to understand that my practice needs to be “actual, natural and non-obsessive.” By making my practice more measured and patient, less about pushing my physical boundaries and more about feeling and enjoying the immediacy of my breath and body, my thinking changed.

Ultimately, as I embrace the notion that there is nothing wrong with me, that the pain and confusion I feel is not an indication that I am somehow lacking but is simply part of being human, torturing my body no longer makes any sense. In fact, it seems like kind of a dumb thing to do.

There is a correlation between how I am with myself in doing breathing and moving exercises and how I am with myself in general. If there is a whole lot of struggling, straining and having a bad time in the practice, the same tends to be true in general. By cultivating a model of greater ease in my execution and pleasure in my efforts, the same translates out quite seamlessly.

When life starts to feel less like a story of existential longing and more like a grand blessing of experience, a sense of oneness in the universe becomes a perfectly rational determination.

The question is: Why are we not taught that we are one with Life in the same way that we are taught that 2+2=4? Both are facts. Yet, the math equation is a given and my sense of self worth and place in the universe is relegated to naivete.

We all started as a single cell that split and duplicated and formed into blood and bones and lungs and hearts and skin and eyes and it’s all quite fantastic really. The pain and difficulty that life presents does not make our existence any less miraculous. Shouldn’t this be taught and understood by everyone as a matter a fact as reading, writing and arithmetic?

If we were all taught, from an early age, that we are nothing but the extreme intelligence of the Universe and one with Life, the joke about the Dalai Lama and the hotdog vendor would cease to be funny. It would no longer make any sense. How can someone be made to be one with everything when it is already the case?
 

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.

In talking with some students about the commercial, the question of Tapas came up. The Sanskrit word, Tapas, is usually translated as “burning” or “fire” and is often associated with the heat that is generated in practice and the notion that this heat is burning away impurities in the system. The term is bandied around a lot in “hot” yoga classes and attributed to all the sweating. Some suggest that pain is Tapas.

In my experience, there is an amount of warmth that a practice produces but I don’t think that sweating means all the toxins are going out of a persons body and I question the wisdom of conflating pain with Tapas. I tend to think of Tapas in a broader sense. Like many Sanskrit words, Tapas is not just a literal meaning but a principle: “The removal of difficulty.”

Overworking a body to the extant that a healthy functioning is impeded, requiring Advil to get through the day, and referring to discomfort, that has been needlessly created, as Tapas is the kind of thing that makes me crazy.

Don’t we already have enough self-inflicted problems being utilized to exploit people these days?

In many respects, Yoga and Advil don’t make sense together. Masking pain may be warranted in some circumstances but, generally speaking, Yoga is a means of addressing pain. That’s going to be kinda hard to do if I’m popping Advil all the time.

If I treat myself with care and a nurturing sentiment, I tend not to be sore in the least. This may not sell many pain killers but is a much safer bet in the long run.
 

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 remember a particular occasion when I was teaching one of my trademark power vinyasa classes. I was barking out my well prepared sequence and, instead of my usual attention to everyone’s alignment, I happened to be noticing the facial expressions of the people in my class.

They looked miserable. They were filled with struggle and strain, just doing their best to get through and not enjoying themselves much in the process. There was a distinct lack of joy.

Afterwards, several students came up to thank me and tell me how great the class was. It made me feel uncomfortable. Walking home, I kept thinking: “What am I doing?”

Fact is, I was proficient in the practice I was teaching but it was not really helping me feel well. I had a lot of chronic pain that I rarely admitted to, even to myself. I was convinced it meant “opening.” Shortly thereafter, I blew my knee out doing Baddhakonasana with a belt and an assist. For all my diligent studies and abilities, super yogi couldn’t walk.

Around that same time, a friend of mine attended a large yoga event in NYC with a venerable teacher, considered to be a living “master.” She was one of a very small percentage of the 600 participants to have the guru assist her in one of her poses, only to have her hamstring connector popped at his forceful hand. I remember seeing her several days later, she was still in considerable pain.

Experiences like this have often left me feeling horribly disenchanted with the yoga community. The issue of overly forceful assists aside, how can yoga teachers who espouse ahimsa not be held accountable for harm done under their auspices? Adding insult to injury, common in hip yoga circles today is to cite ahimsa as a case for veganism. Basically, Patanjali says that if you want to be a real yogi then you can’t eat animal products.

I have been vegetarian for twenty years. I was vegan for three of them but it left me somewhat anemic. Introducing eggs and cheese into my diet made me feel better. I continue to maintain a lacto-ovo vegetarian diet because that’s what feels right for me, not because I think eating meat is wrong. I do try to eat organic but I don’t know exactly where all the eggs and cheese I eat is coming from, nor do I know the treatment of the animals who provide me this food.

While it would be nice if this were different and modern food production was not so dictated by corporate profits, I still think it strains common sense to suggest that my eating habits constitute violence. Especially, when the assertion comes from teachers who do not take personal responsibility for injuries that readily happen in their classes.

Another way ahimsa can be translated is “loving kindness and compassion.” There is a big difference between simply being nonviolent and actually being kind. I figure, if you can learn to show yourself and others genuine kindness, which most certainly includes not over working and harming your body in practice, and you enjoy eating meat, you’re still gonna be OK with the yoga powers that be.
 

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.

In Yoga, the principle of Adaptation refers to the ability of a practice to meet the individual needs of the student, not just in physical terms but in every sense of the person. Adaptation in yoga is not only considered a good thing but the hallmark of a skilled teacher.

In the physical fitness realm, the principle of Adaptation refers to the concept of when an exercise is repeated often without variation, the body assimilates and the benefits are diminished. Adaptation in physical fitness is considered an impediment to continued growth and is the basis for another principle, Overload, which states that a greater than normal stress or load on the body is required.

My intent here is not to parse semantics. It’s just that there seems to be a lot of yoga classes that embrace the physical fitness sensibility. The enticing arsenal of classical yoga asana has made for a perfect marriage. Many yoga teachers are less concerned with any interpersonal realities that exist in their classes and instead see their role as someone to forever challenge students to do more with interesting sequences and playlists.

After a recent class of mine, a vinyasa teacher asked: “If we don’t take ourselves to the edge and beyond, how will we ever grow?”

I think of growth in yoga like I think of growth in plants. Watering a plant more does not necessarily make it grow faster or better. In fact, over watering plants will kill them. In order to grow, plants need the right amount of water on the right days and it happens over time like the way wind and water shapes mountains. Granted, some plants require more water than others.

I embrace a measured engagement in my practice. I’m not interested in pushing mine or anyone else’s physical limits. I discovered that it’s possible to be very strong and flexible, have amazing asana alignment, accomplish all kinds of miraculous feats with your body and still have lots of pain and feel miserable in life. It makes no sense to me that the body needs to be pushed, stressed or imposed upon in order to serve a persons growth. In my experience, forever taking the body to its “edge” leads to chronic pain down the road.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to take anything away from anyone. If you enjoy physical challenge and want to provide that to yourself by forever changing up and increasing the intensity of your work out, rock on I say. I’m merely suggesting that yoga practice is not cross-circuit training. These two things can be complimentary but are not the same. Although, going to most yoga classes today, folks would have no way of knowing.

In layman’s terms, the aspect of yoga that makes it different then just working out is often referred to as the “mind-body connection.” This is a rote acknowledgement that the health of a person cannot be objectively measured in physical prowess. Recent studies in exercise science state that: “Low intensity exercise improves health but may not be very beneficial for improving physical fitness.”

When it comes to physical fitness alone, the “mind-body connection” is optional. If you’re training for a marathon or particular sport activity, you need to tough it out and do that boot camp stuff if you want your body to be conditioned properly for the task. How your feeling, whats going on in your life or whether or not your enjoying the work out are largely irrelevant.

I maintain that yoga practice is not concerned with developing physical fitness beyond what is necessary for a healthy functioning body. If we use the forms beyond that, for physical fitness purposes alone, then I think it ceases to be yoga practice and becomes something else. Lose the mind-body connection and you lose the yoga.
 

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.”

I can accept that Bhakti Yoga, as defined classically, may have an ultimate goal of self-realization and union with the Divine but to assert that all other forms of yoga also subscribe to this notion is not only inaccurate but perpetuates a view of yoga that runs contrary to my understanding.

I suppose the editors at Yoga Journal Magazine are not reading as deeply into their newsletter copy as I am, nor do I fault them for using catch phrases to sell magazines. All the same, when yoga is made out to be an abstract thing that has no bearing on people’s real lives, it kinda pisses me off.

When I’m dealing with health insurance companies, real-estate markets and babysitters, don’t talk to me about union with the Divine. For people living in the world, it is not useful to think of yoga as some gargantuan undertaking that has the power to bring about a grand realization or transform us into something we are not already.

To suggest that such things are to be striven for, in today’s culture, generally amounts to self-abuse more than realization and defining a singular Divine inherently casts a disparaging shadow over the glory that is our mundane existence.

An important distinction needs to be made: Monks do yoga practice for different reasons then moms and dads.

I got lots of life stuff going on right now and I know that I am not the only one. A beautiful thing about sending out these intimate bits is that people who read them get to know something about me personally and when I see them at the center and ask: “how’s it going?”, they often feel license to give me an honest answer.

We all got jobs and apartments and relationships that require a lot of effort. Getting all that going in a good way is the yoga of a house-holder. I have belabored a consideration of dualistic and non-dualistic frameworks for yoga (see The Steps We Take and Discernment is Vital.) Instead, I will state my point here plainly:

The ultimate goal of yoga is to be well and appreciate life. The breathing and moving exercises we do are nothing more than a way of easing discomfort and encouraging conducive perspective. In turn, practice also tends to facilitate intimacy, strengthen relationships and make life more enjoyable. This practical application of yoga has always existed and ought not be obscured by zealots or profiteers.

Of course, this is just my opinion. Others may disagree.