On change, letting go, and lighting up your life

The equinox has passed, the Earth is shifting on its axis, and everywhere I look, change is in the air.

In times of change, we ourselves shift on our axes. Perhaps, unawares, we simply begin moving to a different rhythm, but it may be that we find ourselves questioning, doubting, or resisting the shifts in our bodies and minds. Perhaps we are clinging to the way things were before. Perhaps we are grasping at a future that has not quite manifested.

The changing of the seasons brings changes to our routines. As householder yogis, a change in the season will almost invariably bring about a change in our asana practice. We may find ourselves unable to practice as much, or practicing in a different way. As I browse around the blogsphere, I notice a degree of anxiety about these changes. I read words from bloggers who are hard on themselves, who judge themselves, who "beat themselves up" in their minds if they don't practice long enough, hard enough, if they don't do that pose. Now, we have all been there, and maybe this is part of the process that we all have to go through in order to let go of our egos, but it makes me think that it is easy to get too attached to our asana practice.

Now, wait, isn't that what yoga is all about? Well - no. In times like this I remind myself that asana is only 1 of the 8 limbs of yoga. I remind myself that the fundamentals of yoga are the yamas and the niyamas (the restraints and the self-restraints). They are like the roots of the tree, the soil that nourishes the soul, and they are a practice in themselves.

The yamas and the niyamas ground us when the road is smooth, and guide us through the bumps of transformation.  Like all ethical codes, they are there to help us handle hard choices. Most of all they are a lens through which we are asked to see ourselves - and this, of course, is the hardest journey of all.

----------------

The inspirational Nadine Fawell is no stranger to hard journeys. She has had to confront the emotional scars of childhood abuse and the damaging cycle of fear and self-sabotage that it left her in. She dug deep, and emerged on the other side with a profound insight into how to use the transformational power of yoga to "cut through your emotional B.S., get strong and comfortable in your body, and learn the art of radical self-acceptance."

And the best part? She wants to share it with YOU.  She has taken what she has learned and created a 4-week e-course called Light Up Your Life.  Combining yoga, yoga philosophy, journalling, healthy eating and relaxation techniques, Light Up Your Life is designed to help you identify the areas of your life, or yourself, that you want to shed light on - and to realise that desire.  I think what she has put together is amazing, and I am super-proud to be an affiliate of the course.

Does lighting up your life sound like just what you need this fall/spring? Head over to her website and bring on the light!

Taking Yoga (Injuries) Seriously

I usually don't weigh in on the heavy yoga debates, and I'm not about to start now. I have the curse of always being able to see both sides of an issue. But this article about how a woman quit yoga after an injury has been making the rounds and caught my attention.

A few bloggers have criticised the author of the article for quitting, but personally, I don't see that as an issue. Yoga is a personal practice, not a panacea. It's not right for everyone and not everyone will like it. Some people will quit.  So what? The author of the article made her choice, learned something about herself in the process, and found a physical practice that she thought suited her better. It sounds like a happy ending to me.

The issue that I have is that this woman was medically diagnosed with high blood pressure and was not aware, or made aware, of the potential impacts, or told that she shouldn't be doing inversions, especially not intense inversions like headstand and handstand.  The resulting injury she suffered led her to quit yoga, rather than to quit inversions - which is her personal choice and it's really not my place to judge, opine, or argue with that. It's a free world, as they say.

From my perspective, reacting to tales of yoga injuries by denying them, defending yoga, or attacking the injured person or their teacher is not a constructive response. Yoga-asana is a physical discipline and the possibility of injury is always there. Find me one yoga practitioner who has never felt the twinge of over-stretching a muscle, fallen over while attempting a balancing pose, received a bad adjustment, or simply wound up feeling dizzy or nauseous while practicing. I think it's our responsibility to acknowledge that the risks are there and to do our best to become safe and knowledgeable practitioners and teachers. We need to remember that the principles of Ahimsa (non-harming), Aparigraha (non-grasping), and Satya (being truthful), among others, are more important to a yoga practice, or teaching yoga, than the asanas.

Being a pragmatist, I have tried to draw out some lessons from this story, and here are a few that I can think of.

1. If you have a medical condition, discuss it with your doctor and your yoga teacher, and do your own research, so that you can make safe choices - and then make them! (Ahimsa!) Don't make the mistake that this woman made, of keeping silent about her new medical condition and finding out the hard way what the consequences were. If neither of them know what to tell you, find a new doctor or a new teacher! And of course, do the research yourself - including drawing on your personal practice - so that you can make safe choices. Everyone is different - it's ok to explore and test your boundaries and find out where your personal limits are - but don't ignore them (Aparigraha - let go!).

2. If you are a teacher, know your contra-indications and always state them. (Satya!) In the reality of teaching large-group classes, we can't always know the medical histories of each and every one of our students. But we can take 10 seconds to make sure we talk about the contra-indications of the classes we are teaching and the poses we are instructing.  Especially with "higher-risk" poses like inversions. [I say higher risk because in a person with untreated high blood pressure, holding a long inversion could potentially lead to serious medical complications, possibly even a stroke. And that deserves to be taken seriously.]

• Because students often come in late, what I have found best is to make a short announcement after the opening meditation or when I bring the class to standing for the first time. I talk about the level of the class, and if it's a physically demanding class (as I usually teach), I warn people that it might not be appropriate if they are pregnant, or have medical conditions or injuries. 
• When I talk about contra-indications, I often say "please". As in, "were going to do shoulderstand now, but if you have high blood pressure, please don't go into this pose straight away - just relax until I can come around to you".

This also means learning about conditions that might affect your students as they age - more and more people are practicing or even starting yoga in their golden years, and it's worth the extra study to find out about osteopenia/osteoporosis, high blood pressure or Type II diabetes, for example.
 

3. If you are a teacher, create a safe space, and actively encourage people to acknowledge their bodies' limitations and explore alternatives.  This doesn't mean you can, or should, force people to stay within artificially drawn boundaries. But you should be able to set the foundation for your students to make informed choices, and create an atmosphere where nobody feels pressured to go too far. (Ahimsa again!)

I'd love your comments and thoughts... Readers, from your experience, what would you add to these suggestions?

Not the easy road... More on "breaking up" with Ashtanga

Last week, I posted a letter to Ashtanga about "seeing other yoga". I didn't really mean it to be a controversial post, but it did spark some discussion.  For some more good reading, Damn Good Yoga posted a perspective on her blog which also generated a lot of comments and discussion.

In any case, upon browsing the Ashtanga blogosphere, there seems to be a perception that people leave Ashtanga because it's too hard, or because they can't handle the discipline and commitment, or they are shying away from ego-destroying transformation. And maybe some people do - but I'm not really in a place to judge anyone else's reasons or motivations.

I find this interesting because for me, the decision to branch out from the Ashtanga path was a decision to leave my comfort zone, both physically and on more subtle levels. You see, as I mentioned in my letter, I was taught that Ashtanga was all the yoga I needed. That it was a complete system that would heal and balance my body and my mind, well, completely. So when I recently realised that this wasn't happening for my body, it made sense to me that I needed to modify my practice. It honestly wasn't a big drama for me - after all, my "loyalty" is to myself and my journey, not to one asana system or another. [Not to mention that as a teacher, I feel like I need to learn as many different approaches as possible, to be able to teach to as many different needs as possible!]

The realisation that Ashtanga wasn't working for me in a "complete" way came during my Level 2 yoga teacher training, and in particular I had 3 major "breakthroughs":

• I realised that my shoulders have become imbalanced - partly this is the way my body is put together, and partly it's postural and work-related (damn computers). Basically, the front of my shoulders are quite strong and the muscles on the backs of my shoulders are comparatively quite weak, and this was causing my shoulders to round forward and causing me a certain amount of back pain. When I say "realised", I mean the kind of realisation that is accompanied by immense physical and emotional release - not the kind of passing thought you can just ignore. Yogis will know the kind I mean. Unfortunately, Ashtanga with its emphasis on forward-and-down vinyasas had made that imbalance worse. According to my Yoga Therapy teacher, this is pretty common among Ashtangis - many of whom suffer from shoulder injuries or pain at the back of the shoulder because those muscles remain comparatively underdeveloped. The good news is, it's fairly easy to work on and with the help of some yoga therapy moves, in a few short months since my TT I have already made huge progress in that area.

• As I've already mentioned, I realised that my psoas and hip flexors were just not getting the love they needed. The psoas is of particular concern to me since it affects lower back pain and imbalance, which I already have my dose of thanks to my scoliosis. This became crystal clear to me when we were working on Eka Pada Raja Kapotasana / King Pigeon pose. I couldn't BELIEVE that after 3 years of Ashtanga I had made absolutely no progress with this pose. Wow. That just didn't seem right to me - but once my teacher observed where my limitations were in the pose - those pesky psoas and hip flexors among them - it made sense - and became clear that my Ashtanga practice was just not addressing those muscles in the way that my body needed.

• Finally, as I mentioned, I have scoliosis. Luckily for me, it's quite mild, but it is progressive - i.e. the muscular imbalance, unless counteracted, gets worse with age. When I first started Ashtanga, I accepted the idea that the primary series was "yoga therapy", and therefore, my practice would be enough to relieve my imbalance. And while it did make the weaker side of my back stronger, over time it also caused the QL muscle on the strong side of my back (that's the thick muscle that runs either side of your lower spine) to become a rock-hard, ropey knot, which is exactly the kind of imbalance I need to avoid if I want to manage my scoliosis as I get older. Cue more massive release, and the realisation of just how badly I NEEDED to do some kind of practice that would allow me to dig deeper and really work on that area.

Now, I honestly think it would have been easier to just stay in my comfort zone and keep practicing Ashtanga, maybe throwing in a quick yoga therapy sequence in the afternoons to work on some of those target areas. Easier to remain attached to progressing along the Ashtanga path, and keep working towards second series. Easier on my ego, because I wouldn't have to face Eka Pada Raja Kapotasana or go deep, deep into that damn psoas and feel like I'm losing my mind.  But that would not have been in line with Satya, truthfulness, Aparigraha, non-grasping, or Ahimsa, non-harming. And so I'm taking the other path, moving out of my comfort zone, and into practices that challenge the imbalances in my body - and take me to the edge both mentally and physically.

Is it easier? Heck no. Am I less committed to my yoga? If anything, I'm more comitted. Is my practice suddenly less disciplined, more comfortable, or less confrontational? Actually, the opposite!  Of course I do write this with the caveat that I've been practicing yoga (self-practice) for nearly 10 years, have worked on these issues with an experienced Yoga Therapist, and have 500 hours of formal yoga teacher training that have given me the skills, maturity, and self-knowledge to design asana sequences that both nourish and challenge my body, that are well-balanced but also target my imbalances. And when it feels right, I'll keep practicing Ashtanga, too.

Funny, so much fuss about which type of asana we are practicing, when really, it's only 1/8th of the practice! I have found that as time goes on, I become less and less attached to WHAT I am practicing and more focused on HOW. Which is what yoga is all about, I guess. :)

Readers, what have been your "yoga realisations" or your experience with attachment?

(yogic) reasons to buy fair trade

With the natural introspection that comes from an economic recession, the "buy local" movement is gaining momentum.  However, there are a lot of good things in life that simply don't come "local", at least not in these temperate climes!  Tea, coffee, cotton, silk, spices, chocolate... to name just a few!  Now, we could live without them... Nah, who am I kidding?!  In any case, I don't believe that boycotting imported goods is really a good thing, since on the other side of those goods is another human being who depends on trade for their livelihood.  I do, however, believe that those people, just like me, should be paid a fair and decent wage for their work - enough to support their families and invest in their futures.


According to the UK's FairTrade foundation: "Fairtrade is about better prices, decent working conditions, local sustainability, and fair terms of trade for farmers and workers in the developing world. By requiring companies to pay sustainable prices (which must never fall lower than the market price), Fairtrade addresses the injustices of conventional trade, which traditionally discriminates against the poorest, weakest producers."


From a yogic perspective, I look at buying fair trade as an expression of the yama of Asteya, or non-stealing.  When we buy goods that are sourced through exploitation, we are complicit in a form of "theft" - taking people's time and the fruits of their work without compensation.


Fair trade goods are likely to be more expensive than their regular competitors, but I like to think that when I buy my tea or coffee at fair trade prices, I am likely to value it more and use it more wisely, recognizing that it was produced by another person, halfway around the world, and that in some small way, that connects us.


Does FairTrade really make a difference? I think so.  A few months ago I was lucky enough to attend a small lecture at Oxfam.  The guest speakers were two women from Ghana, who are members of the Kuapa Kokoo cocoa-producing cooperative.  They earn their living and support their families (and extended families) purely on producing and selling cocoa, that is turned into chocolate.  Kuapa Kokoo is even more special than most - the cocoa farmers in the cooperative also earn a 45% share in Divine Chocolate, the company that turns the cocoa into (delicious!) chocolate and nets the profits from consumers.


The women who spoke to us told us what a difference fair trade prices, and dividends from the chocolate sales, make to their lives.  One woman was supporting her sister's 3 orphaned children, and the other was paying for her younger siblings to go to University.  Both women owned their own land - a rarity in West Africa as well as many other parts of the world.


So yes, I think fair trade makes a difference.  And if the world is our backyard, then behind each of those products there is also a "local" farmer or producer, who depends on that commodity for their livelihood - to build their house, feed and clothe their children, and build a better future. 


In the UK, fair trade goods are marked with the distinctive symbol.  And while fair trade coffee, tea and chocolate are fairly easy to come by, other commodities like cotton are not yet consistently marked.  However you can find fair trade lines at many major shops these days - including of course, the fabulous online Oxfam shop!  And although the prices are high, at least when you buy fair trade goods, you know that you money is actually going to go to the producer, and not to the middle-man.  It is a good test of our commitment to the yogic principle of generosity!

(It's alright ma) It's only yoga

It seems that a lot of yoga practitioners feel a sense of pressure to live some kind of extraordinary life.   And when we're not busy feeling pressured to do more, we feel guilty about the things we are doing.  And as if that weren't complicated enough, we then feel longing for the things we aren't doing because we feel pressured or guilty enough not to do them!  I mean, whew, how do any of us even have time for yoga amidst all that?

I mean, isn't yoga supposed to liberate us from all that jazz?  All those chitta vritti (cheeky monkey?) thoughts that keep pestering at our brains like buzzing mosquitoes, homing in to attack us, all those doubts and ideals and, well, all of that?  After all, we are in this to find calming thoughts, centeredness, groundedness, self-awareness, self-confidence, cures for our illnesses and hopefully a bit of muscle tone to boot.  In short, we are in search of perfection.  Through Yoga.  Right?

Ah.  Is that what it comes down to?  Are we so convinced that somewhere out there, there is One Thing that will make us happy, that we are willing to give Yoga it's 5 minutes of fame to see if it does the trick? Nope?  Oh well, back to money, fame, fortune, weight loss or whatever else is on the list.

Sarcasm aside, my teacher taught me about renunciation.  When we look at yoga philosophy, we encounter notions like Ahimsa, non-harming, and Aparigraha, non-grasping / moderation.  Our first reaction is to immediately pounce on the material implications of these yamas, or restraints.  So, we practice Ahimsa by giving up eating meat because it harms animals.  We practice Aparigraha by giving up potato chips, or that pair of jeans you've been wanting.  Or we tell ourselves we didn't really want it anyway, because that wouldn't be yogic, right?

So our immediate reactions to the yamas are reactions of renunciation.  Giving things up is long acclaimed in our culture.  I mean, nobody loves a good martyr like we do (ok, well maybe some people do, but anyway, the point being, we love a good martyr like anybody!)

But, my teacher reminds us, the second Yama is Satya, or truthfulness.  And these types of renunciation which are accompanied by a sense of sacrifice, which are done because of an expectation of the result of the action or done because of how the outside world will perceive them, are not in line with Satya.

The difference is choice, and how you embrace it.  When we give something up, we go into it with the mentality that we are sacrificing something in order to attain something else.  Meat or jeans for yogic goodness.  Etc.  But according to my teacher, if you spend every day wishing you could eat meat, or have chips, or wear those jeans, then you are not living your satya, not living truthfully to yourself.

He believes that somewhere along the line, as you gradually reconnect with your true self, non-harming and moderation become things that become natural to you.  Instead of renouncing material goods in hopes of winning brownie points, you will reach a point where you truly no longer want to buy more things.  Instead of giving up eating junk food because you think you're supposed to, you just stop buying it out of a real desire to feed your body non-processed food.  Instead of wishing you could have those jeans, you become deeply disgusted with consumerism and the inequality of sweat shop labour.  In short, you live your yamas because they feel right, not because you have a desire to Be Right.  And when you do this, negative emotions like guilt, jealousy, and martyrdom will fall by the wayside, because you will be living in balance with yourself.

I feel the same way about the physical practice of Yoga.  Today while I was on my mat, I was practicing away, wondering how long I should practice, and what, and thinking how I wish I practiced more, and all kinds of other things, and then it slowly crept into my head... you know what?  It doesn't matter.  It's only Yoga!

I know - Gasp.  Right?  But there it is.  It's not life or death, it's not family, it's not love, it's not any of the things that really and truly I can't survive without.  It's not how I want to measure myself or define myself.  I am not the successes or the limitations of my body.  I am not my practice.  I am not my asana, pranayama, pratyahara or the rest of it.  Yes, I love my practice, and  yes, it makes me feel good.  But it's not the be all and end all of my day.  It's not how I feed myself or what keeps me warm at night.  It's only a body on a smelly mat.  It's only Yoga.   And that is liberating.

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks they really found you

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit
To satisfy, insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not forget
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to

(From Bob Dylan's "It's alright Ma (I'm only bleeding) )

Yogi Ethics 101 - The Yamas

The Yamas are moral or ethical principles, sometimes referred to as 'abstinences'. They are:

*Ahimsa - a principle of non-harming / non-violence
*Satya - a principle of truthfulness
*Asteya - a principle of non-stealing
*Bramychandra - a principle of continence or self-restraint
*Aparigraha - a principle of non-greed or non-attachment.

So, in practical terms, what do these mean?

Ahimsa, or non-harming, is similar to the universal moral principle "thou shalt not kill". Each person may have a different interpretation of this principle. For some, it simply means do not kill people, whereas others take this to include animals as well, and therefore do not eat the flesh of animals, and for still others, it is a motivation to protect the rainforests, since their destruction would kill many species of life. It is up to each of us to think seriously about non-harming and decide what we think is morally right for us. In addition to this though, Ahimsa can be extended to every action you take by asking yourself the simple question: "will this harm someone?". Chances are, if the answer is "yes", you should do your utmost to avoid that course of action. You can - and should - also apply Ahimsa to your own life and wellness - first and foremost. Avoid things that you know to be harmful, including relationships, harmful substances, self-depreciating thoughts, or addictions. The list goes on. Living a life that is non-harmful to yourself is the first step to finding your potential happiness.

Satya, truthfulness, comes second in the Yamas. Again, this principle doesn't only apply to being truthful with others, but to yourself. We all deceive ourselves or tell ourselves and others "little white lies" - sometimes leading us to be so entangled in a web of delusion that we feel we are completely lost and out of touch with ourselves. Staying in a relationship when we are not in love, saying "I tried" while knowing you didn't really, pretending to enjoy something to impress another person, all of these are examples of delusion. The principle of Satya could be colloquialised as "no bullshit". Deep down, we know that these are pretenses or lies, and they cause us inner suffering, not to mention that they might cause others to suffer as well. Satya starts with "keeping it real". It means not only to tell the truth, but also to accept responsibility for our actions instead of telling little untruths to cover them up. However, Satya comes after Ahimsa for a reason - the first principle of an ethical life is non-harmfulness. Therefore when telling the truth, the Yogi should first use restraint, and only tell that truth which is not harmful to others. Gossip is the perfect example - stories take on a life of their own and people end up being hurt by the rumours being told about them. When being truthful it is also always important to remember that what is true for you may not be for another person. When several people witness an event, they may all tell a different version of what happened. They are not consciously being untruthful, but in view of this, it is best to remember that every story has two sides. The Yogi should strive carefully to draw the line between fact and opinion: "I saw them eating lunch together" may be fact, but it's a long way from "I think they're having an affair." While you may truly think this - this is a harmful way of telling the truth, that is based on your opinion, not on actual fact.

Asteya, or non-stealing, has the obvious meaning of not taking without permission that which is not yours. Every person, again, can define what this means to them - be truthful with yourself. Non-stealing can be extended far beyond simply appropriating an item that belongs to someone else. Perhaps you believe that buying pirated DVDs is stealing because it violates copyright. Perhaps you believe that buying goods produced in sweatshops is stealing because people are not fairly compensated for their labour. Perhaps you do not believe that the formulas for key medicine should be kept a secret if they can save lives. Again, examine the issues, and be truthful with yourself - then stick to your moral precepts. In the February 2009 edition of the Yoga Journal, Hillari Dowdle gave her modern interpretation of these Yoga fundamentals, and reminded the readers that beyond the physical interpretation, when you are late, you 'steal' someone else's time, and when you deceive, you 'steal' a person's trust.

Bramychandra, or continence, is perhaps one of the hardest yamas to put in practical terms. The idea of celibacy is not one that is within the reach of the average Yogi during their sexually active years! Keeping in mind that many Yogi sages had sexual partners and children themselves, why is the concept of 'celibacy' important? The main argument is that the expenditure of sexual fluids, namely semen, depletes spiritual energy. Of course, this theory poses a problem for many yogis of all ages - and women in particular! Let us cut a long discussion short by again expanding on the innovative practical interpretation offered by Dowdle - that bramychandra is about "energy moderation". The article compares the total energy of the body to, say, a paycheck of one hundred dollars. So the question is, are you going to spend the whole paycheck in one night, indulging your senses in food, booze, or shoes, and coming out at zero every time? Or, are you going to spend only $25 on your basic needs, and save the rest, thereby gradually increasing the total you have in the bank? Energy is the same. Bramychandra advises you not to over-indulge in anything: I personally would include in this alcohol, drugs, television, work, and yes, sexual activity. Instead, the Yogi is advised to be moderate and live a balanced life, distributing their energy in a way that gives them more energy - not drains them completely. We all know people who are completely ruled by their over-indulgence in alcohol, or completely drained by being a workaholic, or addicted to stress. But again going back to the principle of non-harmfulness - these behaviours harm not only the individuals in question, but those around them and their loved ones. This is why Bramychandra is important.

Aparigah, or non-greed, is like the Buddhist principle of non-attachment. In striving not to be greedy or to be attached to our posessions, we can all use a healthy dose of truthfulness! Non-grasping can start by asking yourself the question "do I really need this?" Or, when you consider items you no longer use, "could someone else benefit more from this?" One of my favourite expressions is: "it's just stuff". When something breaks, or is lost, I remind myself of that. Even with items of sentimental value, the sentiment comes from within me, not from within the object. I can still feel affection for a person that I have lost touch with, without keeping a trinket that they gave me. In the Western world we are taught to define ourselves by our "stuff" - the little things, like accessories and gadgets, to the big things, like houses and cars. In wanting these things, we go from grasping to greed - always wanting bigger, better, more impressive stuff. But of course, these things do not really make a person happy, and deep down inside we all know that. Only when you can detach yourself from greed can you be happy with what you have - which for most of us, is a lot more than the average human in the world has. Therefore the final implication (for me) of non-greed is generosity: recognising that others can benefit far more from our "stuff", our money, or, most precious of all, our time.

These are just some practical suggestions for how to incorporate the Yamas into everyday life, if you choose to do so. But for this yogini, the emphasis should not be placed on the specifics of which moral codes you choose to follow, and exactly how you interpret them. You are an ever-growing, ever-evolving being, and these things can change over time. For me, the most important thing is to decide what is right for you - and stick with it. Only in this way can you live harmoniously, for your actions will be at peace with your inner beliefs. This is integrity - this is Yoga.