The Sea and the Photographer

I'm just back from a weekend on Nantucket where I got to work with the terrific photographer, Robert Sturman.  I was a bit apprehensive about making my practice an opportunity for a photo shoot.  What I found is that Robert genuinely sees his work as a collaboration - that yoga is a form of expression of the body and the exuberance of the human spirit.  Somehow his work really manages to capture that.  So I was deeply honored to spend a chilly, windy morning on the beach making art with Robert.  I can't wait to see the rest of the pictures from the shoot.

Photo by Robert Sturman

And of course - this darling video of another great shoot by Robert:

Vande Gurunam Charanaravinde

I bow to the lotus feet of the Gurus...

At the beginning of class in Ashtanga Yoga, we usually offer up this mantra beyond the traditional OM or three OMs.  I know from both leading classes and being in them, this can be awkward at first.  Students wonder if they are not dipping their toes in a bit of Hinduism they don't understand or have suddenly found themselves in some sort of cult practice.  But then, soon enough, we are moving and breathing and forgetting all about the odd tradition until the next time.  In time we can even come to look forward to the practice of mantra, letting the sound create a barrier between our day and our practice time.  There is a sacred feeling that comes from opening with sound prayer, regardless of our level of understanding.

Here's what I think about it by way of a story.  The one time I was lucky enough to study with Guruji in New York, almost a decade ago now, there were hundreds of people in the room.  Guruji walked in (in his trademark Calvin Klein boxers and gold chains) and we chanted, then it was "Ekam inhale..." and off we went.  From my vantage point in the front of the room, I looked back while in down dog, seeing the crowded room full of Ashtangis moving and breathing in unison.  An amazing sight!  Among the crowd were many of the senior teachers I had studied with at some point and others I had only heard about along with practitioners of all levels.  At the end of practice, Guruji would sit and folks would line up to bring him flowers, take a picture, and touch his feet.  Practicing in that room gave me such deep respect for what this man had sown worldwide to inspire us all to practice Ashtanga - but no way was I going to bow and touch his feet.  I don't do the Guru thing.  As the week progressed, I began to soften but still, I held back and watched the procession from my mat.  On one occasion during practice, Guruji came behind me while in badha konasana and stood on my knees.  He leaned over, smiled at me, laughed and patted my back.  "Why fear?" he said. (I was fearing I would never walk or have a deep voice again at the moment...)  His warmth, his command of the room and his smile made it impossible to continue to hold back.  So, like everyone else, I got in line, bowed with reverence and touched his feet.  When I looked up, he was already greeting the next person.  What was a big deal for me was not so much for him.  He had done his part but I felt transformed.
Now, all these years later, I think about him every time I roll out the mat.  Inevitably, I think about the other wonderful teachers I have had over the years throughout my practice.  I hear their corrections, their words of encouragement, the little jokes and I feel their presence with me.  On a good day, one by one they leave the room, leaving me alone with my breath.  During challenging times, they inspire me to keep going.
Yogis refer to this passage of knowledge that happens between teacher and student as Parampara.  It is a transmission that occurs in order to create a lineage that is as much energetic as it is knowledge based.  Meaning, that true "knowing" comes from an understanding gained through experience with the teacher or Guru over time.
So corny as it is, I have been thinking of these teachers and wanting to bow long distance to them - to acknowledge all they have done for me.  The "Gurus" referred to in the opening mantra is plural - meaning all the teachers on whose shoulders we stand across the stretches of time.  So, teachers of mine, past and present, I bow to you.

Guruji

Shri K. Pattabhi Jois - has to come first.  Though I never felt that he was my guru, none of this would be possible if not for his teachings and what he has spread throughout the world.  So first, Guruji, I bow to you.

David Swenson

Of all the senior Ashtanga teachers, David is the one from whom I have learned the most.  I first learned the Primary Series from his videotape on a tiny TV set in the corner of the studio what seems like a long time ago now.  Over the years I have done numerous workshops and teacher trainings with him and am grateful for any time I get to spend practicing with him.  Through his books and videos but more importantly his patient teaching, David teaches the practice clearly and solidly, providing the basis for lifelong continued practice.  He is also just goddam funny.  You will never laugh as much as you might in a David Swenson class!  David, I bow to you.

David Williams

Only a few times now have I practiced with David Williams but what he says is so simple and clear "If it hurts, you're doing it wrong."  He has made it his mission to teach Ashtanga the way it was meant to be taught, as a healing practice after seeing so many students get injured or be injured in a class.  He has practiced daily for over forty years and speaks with real authority about how to practice safely over time so that your practice stays with you for life and benefits your life.  I subscribe to his notion that the person who practices tomorrow is the one who has a good experience on the mat today.  This has truly shaped my teaching and my own practice for the better.  David, I bow to you and can say that with your inspiration, I have practiced daily for some time now.

Tom Gillette

Tom opened his studio, Eyes of the World, in Providence at about the same time that I moved back to Providence about 12 years ago.  I was relatively new to yoga, had been doing a lot on my own and in classes where I could find them but Tom's studio gave me a practice home.  In those early days, I went to every class I could, soaking in all I could from this wonderful, gifted teacher.  What I always get from Tom is a sense of the larger purpose of yoga.  That the postures are not the whole practice and that we need to take ourselves less seriously.  He has great humor and compassion and his classes are always wonderful.  I am proud to have completed teacher training with Tom and see that experience as one of the most important in my life.  I haven't been to "Eyes" in a while, I confess as I am focused on my personal practice these days but I would send anyone to study with Tom to deepen their understanding of yoga.  Tom, I bow to you.

The Bride

I have to give props to my lovely bride, Shannah Green, who first showed me yoga on my back porch in Savannah as I stumbled around looking for ways to heal my twisted spine.  Years of working construction had led to these painful episodes where my low back would give out and I would be immobile for days and in great pain.  I took to yoga right away and then later started with Shannah's classes in the Twin Street Barn (you Nantucketers may remember).  She's a remarkable teacher and has built an amazing community of teachers and students in the studio that we built on Nantucket.  One side effect of having a child is that you can rarely take your spouses class so we are not often in the same room when yoga is involved except on retreat.  Nonetheless, we share as teachers now our experiences in the classroom.  I'm eternally grateful for the introduction to this practice.  So, dear (if you read this), I bow to you.

Jill Manning

I have had very few classes with Jillji but having picked up where she left off teaching Ashtanga in Providence, we have had occasions to overlap.  I have learned a great deal about teaching yoga through watching her.  If you have the opportunity to seek Jill out and attend a Mysore intensive, you will be transformed.  Her energy is infectious, and her enthusiasm and knowledge of the practice is vast, stemming from a deep personal practice.  So Jill, down there in Farmville, I bow to you.

I could go on... there have been too many teachers over the years that I need to thank and honor, Nancy Gilgoff for showing me the healing aspects of Ashtanga... sister in-law and Iyengar instructor extraordinaire, Debby Green for helping me to understand the deep meaning of externally rotating my upper femurs, Danny Paradise for his life as yogi, artist and traveler by example... and on and on.

I bow to you - Namasté.

Coming out of my Skin

I hate Pranayama.  Now you know.  I get it, I understand it intellectually and if forced, in a crowded class, I will sit quietly and do my part.

"Breathe in... hold
Breathe out... hold
Right Side in... Left Side out... blah blah blah
Counting ... 3, 4, 5, shit, I forget is this supposed to be a 6 or 12-count?
Fuck, my knees ache...
 Everyone's eyes are closed - think they'll notice if I leave?...
I CAN"T BREATHE!!!"

Put me in a posture, anything, let me sweat and breathe fully and normally and I'm happy.  I can disassociate or become totally present and stay all day but sit me in lotus, make me be still, restrict my breathing and I want to scream.  I feel like my chest is going to explode.  I want to jump up and run out of the room screaming.

Me, long-time Ashtanga practitioner with a daily, dedicated practice.  Me who, when not practicing is reading everything I can get my hands on about yoga and teaching yoga.  Me, who when I should be working in my painting studio practices 10 minute headstands instead.  Yet, Pranayama totally has my number.  Simple sitting and breathing.  Good grief.

So - this is my practice, I suppose.  I talked with David Williams about this at Kripalu last month when I finally admitted the afternoon Pranayama sessions were killing me.  "Hey man, something is in you that has to come out!", he says.  I got a prescription for a simplified breathing practice, was told to practice while breathing on my back and let him know what happens.  So great, now I have an alien in my chest to worry about while I breathe...

OK, deep breath, I can do this.  I will do this.  A little at a time as part of my daily practice.  If anything pops out of my chest, I'll let you know.

Just Arrived in the mail - my guide on this journey...

From the Creative Side...

Blue Ridge, 2012, oil and wax on canvas, 38 x 34 in

"Know then that art is: a path toward freedom.  We have all been born in chains.  A few forget their chains: they have them silver-plated or gilded.  But we want to rend them; not through ugly brute force; our desire is to grow out of them."

- R. M. Rilke

Is that not the path of the yogi?

My latest exhibition opens this week at the Old Spouter Gallery, Nantucket.  I am writing statements and putting the last few wires on this Summer's crop of paintings.  Two things I have done every day for the last few months here in my Summer residency on the Island: a long yoga practice and painted in my studio.  More and more the two practices merge - at least in the intention behind them: freedom.

(More of my work can be viewed at www.michael-rich.com.)

Maha Yogis

I am heading to the Ashtanga Yoga Mela at Kripalu later this month where David Williams, David Swenson and Danny Paradise will be leading the festivities and a wonderful week of practice.  I love these guys.  You will not meet many teachers or practitioners at their level.  David Williams is largely credited with being among the first Westerners to study with Guruji and then to bring him to the West in the early 1970's.  He has been practicing yoga daily for at least 40 years - daily - wow!  He has a way of conveying how to go about practicing in a safe and steady way that will allow you to practice for life with a warmth that is genuine and comes from real lifelong experience on the mat.  David Swenson is, in my opinion, one of the best teachers I have ever met - of any discipline and one of the funniest guys you will ever meet.  The three are non-dogmatic, seasoned practitioners and teachers who share the essence of what this practice is all about.  For me, it is a chance to check in, to recommit to my practice and feel supported by the loose tribe of Ashtangis from the world over.  I don't go to many classes any more but subsist on a daily regimen of asana practice in my own home spaces.  Being around these great teachers helps to put me on track and inspire me in the months ahead.  I'll add quotes and thoughts to this page from these guys as I gather them.

David Williams, early 1970's

David, David and Danny at the last Mela, 2010

The tall guy in the middle is me, August 2010

It Turns out, it Takes Commitment

Tess and Daddy floating their lotus

Time flies for the infrequent blogger!  The end of another semester, the start of Summer and an endless list of "to do" projects on house and self have kept me occupied.  I've now moved out to Nantucket, our Summer haven where my wife runs the beautiful Yoga Room.  My painting studio is located above the practice room so my days are spent painting for upcoming exhibitions and keeping up a daily Ashtanga practice (mostly on the back porch, my favorite spot) - all while spending more time with my family that is hard to find during the busy academic semester.

This month of Guru Purnima and Guruji's birthday have me reflecting a great deal on teaching (and learning) this practice.  With the Mysore classes at the Motion Center on hold for the Summer while I'm away, I'm doing only a little teaching here at the Yoga Room one evening a week - not Mysore but Vinyasa.  A nice change but I really enjoy the Mysore classes the most - my heart is in the Ashtanga system.  (Kino Macgregor wrote a wonderful article about Mysore teaching on Elephant Journal recently, that I recommend.)  Myself, I came to teaching Mysore by accident, really, when our wonderful teacher, Jill Manning, left for Mysore herself and ultimately moved from Providence.  I have a steady, home practice and have taught led Primary for years so I was experienced and quite comfortable teaching the practice but quickly realized how challenging and how different teaching Mysore style is.  The best way to describe the difference, is that a led class, of any kind, seems to me to involve some element of performance for the teacher.  Delivery, vocal quality and presence in the room are as much an element of the class as knowledge of the practice and body.  Invariably, the ego of the teacher gets involved.  We've seen it happen again and again, sometimes to detrimental extremes. Mysore teaching is something different all together.  As the teacher, you are there to facilitate and guide each individual on their own particular path.  This requires such sensitivity on the part of the teacher to where that student is on that path and the particular obstacles they may face along the way.

Wanting to set an example and being re-energized through my teaching, I continually renew my commitment to the practice and have made sure to get in some kind of practice every day when before, a conflict could easily knock me off my practice schedule.  (One of the benefits of a professor's schedule is that this time of year I can get a long practice in without conflicting with work or other obligations.)  I also find I practice differently, examining my own path closely and how one moves forward with the integrity that the practice demands in order to overcome obstacles and work through difficulties.  There are challenges at every turn - our own limitations and fears, not the least of them.  Watching closely how one confronts those challenges is where some of the most useful information to pass on to students can be gleaned.  Humility, humor and grace in these situations are necessary tools to carry along the path.  The best teachers help to equip the student with those tools and the discipline required for them to maintain their own practice.  We get up early, get to the studio, make our best effort and repeat - daily, weekly.  The teacher is there, each step of the way.

I have never been to Mysore - though I do hope to get there someday - and only practiced with Guruji when he came to the States.   I feel I know him through the stories I've heard and read but mostly through this practice he left us.  The longer I stay with it, the more I marvel at the wisdom and teaching that are built in to the series, learning through the challenges faced and the systematic unfolding of the body.  We learn to take the next step by mastering the foundations of the place that we are in.  It turns out, this takes commitment - and the Guru is always there.

"No Fear"

A young Pattabhi Jois in Kapotasana with his teacher, Krishnamacharya on top

One of the many things that I am realizing about the Ashtanga yoga practice after years of progressing slowly through the series, is that there are these significant hurdles set out that one needs to confront in order to move further and to absorb the practice fully. These are "gateway" postures that in order to learn, requires us to examine the foundations of the asana and set out on a path for deepening the posture correctly, over time.  Marichyasana D, for example, looms large in the primary series as a posture which will we have to come to terms with in one way or another. Part of that coming to terms is understanding our own bodies, what we can do, what is safe to do and how much to push without causing the strain or injury that is the antithesis of the practice of yoga. You make peace with where you are on that day and challenge yourself to forge ahead on the path, one step at a time, one breath at a time.

Beata Skrzypacz in Kapotasana, photo by Tom Rosenthal

Lately, that hurdle for me is kapotasana, full pigeon. I'm not a natural back bender, like so many of my students - those dancers and former dancers who think nothing of dropping back into jaw droppingly deep back bends!  I came to yoga late, after years of construction work had wracked my spine. At the time I started yoga, I was seeing a chiropractor 3 times a week just to stand up straight without pain. That was a long time ago, but still, I am having to reshape this bag of bones with great care and patience - and persistence.  In my home practice, I see that pigeon from a ways off, many postures ahead and my mind will jump forward, already creating the anxiety and fear that makes any posture impossible to perform.  This has been a process of confronting those fears and letting go.  I always see Guruji's smiling face in my memory, him standing on my knees in badha konasana and leaning over my shoulder laughing, saying, "Why fearing?"  (At the time I feared I might never have a deep voice again!) The smile and the disarming laugh created the trust in me that allowed the posture to happen.  (There's a lesson for life in there which I will leave to you to figure out.)

Graeme Northfield being assisted by Pattabhi Jois, Mysore 1982

Fear is discussed directly in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali.  In Chapter II.9, Patanjali states: "Svarasvahi vidusho 'pi samarudho 'bhiniveshah" or "Anxiety (abhinivesha) arises spontaneously and can even dominate your entire existence."  Abhiniveshah - or "fear of death" - is one of the five afflictions or "kleshas" that are forms of suffering that need to be overcome to experience a focused mind and the deeper wisdoms of the yogic practice.  Ignorance (avidya), egoism (asmita), desire (raga), aversion (dvesha) make up the other four kleshas that are the five forms of wrong cognition - or to tie into my last post - one of the chitta vritti or fluctuations of the mind.  Richard Freeman writes in his wonderful book, The Mirror of Yoga, that:


 "We may notice the flow of the kleshas at any point, from avidya through asmita to abhinvesha.  Placing attention on the vritti pattern, we trace the vritti back through the flow of the kleshas, resolving the suffering we are experiencing back through ego into fundamental ignorance.  Those kleshas that have manifested as chitta vrittis, those aspects of our suffering we more easily name, such as the anger we may feel when our ego is challenged or the frustration that arises when we cannot get something we are attached to having, these more blatant kleshas can be dissolved by practicing dhyana or meditation on the immediate mind state that is arising.  So again, we see that the entire practice of yoga, the path to liberation in fact, is to get to the root of whatever is presenting itself."
(page 170)


Guruji believed that it always came back to the practice.  "You do." He would say.   The simple instruction urging us on to move, to keep going, to face one's fears by simply trusting in the practice and in the breath. The real practice of yoga then is not "achieving" a certain posture but moving ahead on the path with courage and an openness of heart, with trust and a clear-eyed awareness of the present moment. "No fear."

A thanks for the pics and video:

Graeme Northfield, Ashtanga Yoga Chikitsa

Beata Skrzypacz Yoga

Daily Cup of Yoga
Kino Macgregor Yoga