The Wrong Way to Practice Yoga
Happy as a clam with the San Mateo Book Club. Yoga!
What? Another post telling me what I’m doing wrong? Not at all. Because here’s the good news: the only wrong way to practice yoga, is not to practice yoga. Don’t have an hour and a half to find your bliss? No problem. Didn’t even make it to your mat today? Still, no problem. That’s right, any kind of yogic practice counts.
Wait, what?
That’s right. I choose to define yoga by the meaning of the word, which is “to yoke” or “union.” My interpretation of this is that I must integrate all aspects of myself in all areas of my life. In other words, who I am teaching is who I am when I’m pissed off at the health insurance company for continuing to bill me incorrectly. Practicing yoga doesn’t mean I’m some kind of milquetoast who takes everything passively because I want peace no matter what the cost. Practicing yoga means I’m able to communicate on behalf of myself, even in difficult situations, without being someone I (or my students) wouldn’t want to know. I don’t succeed at this all the time. And sometimes I fail miserably–guys, I’m still sorry about the Chipotle incident–but practicing yoga enables me to keep making small, consistent effort on this path without striving.
Again, what? How are those things related, your behavior and working out?
For those of us who started working out at a young age (I started by trying to jog with my father when I was 11) , the connection between physical exertion and relative calm is pretty clear and immediate. But yoga has taken this connection a step further for me.
There are many poses I may never do, my anatomy simply won’t allow it. When I step onto my mat and drop into my body, it’s less about the pose than about moving in my body, fully inhabiting my body. The postures can call forth emotional responses–anger, frustration, agitation, sorrow, and, of course, blissful joy. Yet with every few breaths comes another pose, and my reaction might not be the same in the exact same pose another time. Certainly, telling the story of that emotion isn’t useful for deepening the pose, or moving on to the next pose (or, really, anything). Ultimately this observation teaches impermanence, but in the practical, every day world I live in this has a greater value in that it’s enabled me to see the physicality of my emotions. Whereas before I would blindly react to assuage certain feelings in my body I deemed negative, it has become less necessary to do so. For one, I know, every few breaths things will change. My reaction might no be the same. And re-telling the story of that old emotion isn’t useful.
That’s what I try to practice every day, and it just so happens that the quickest way for me to have access to that body wisdom is on my yoga mat. How about you? Has practicing changed how you respond to the world?
