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	<description>Ashtanga Yoga in Bali with Iain Grysak</description>
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		<title>The Energetic Dynamics of Ashtanga Advanced A (Third Series) &#8211; Video and Discussion by Iain Grysak</title>
		<link>https://spaciousyoga.com/the-energetic-dynamics-of-ashtanga-advanced-a-iain-grysak/</link>
					<comments>https://spaciousyoga.com/the-energetic-dynamics-of-ashtanga-advanced-a-iain-grysak/#respond</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Iain Grysak]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 16 May 2022 04:10:52 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Ashtanga Yoga]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://spaciousyoga.com/?p=2870</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>On September 23, 2020, I decided to turn on the video camera, along with a few more lights than usual, and film my Third Series Ashtanga practice. The video takes place in the dark early morning hours of 2:25 - 4:15 am, at home in Kenderan, Bali, before going to teach my Mysore class  [...]</p>
<p>The post <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/the-energetic-dynamics-of-ashtanga-advanced-a-iain-grysak/">The Energetic Dynamics of Ashtanga Advanced A (Third Series) &#8211; Video and Discussion by Iain Grysak</a> appeared first on <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com">Spacious Yoga</a>.</p>
]]></description>
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<p style="text-align: justify;">On September 23, 2020, I decided to turn on the video camera, along with a few more lights than usual, and film my Third Series Ashtanga practice. The video takes place in the dark early morning hours of 2:25 &#8211; 4:15 am, at home in Kenderan, Bali, before going to teach my Mysore class at The Seeds of Life Cafe in Ubud. </p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The video is not meant to be a perfect demonstration, but rather an accurate documentation of what an average practice looks like for me, as it is and as it has been each and every day since I began to practice the Ashtanga system of Asana in 2003. I chose not to select my &#8220;greatest hits&#8221; (scripted performances of my best asanas) nor did I edit out any mistakes or weaknesses. There was no staging, editing, retakes, music, enhancements, or anything else. This is real and raw practice.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The video above is the entire Third Series from Surya Namaskar A to Utpluthi. I made three cuts in the video &#8211; editing out a toilet break, a break where I had to chase the dogs out of the room when they decided to play around my mat (the brighter lights usually aren&#8217;t on and it seemed to make them more active than they usually are at this time of the morning), and lastly I cut out the section of Fourth Series postures, so the video jumps from the last posture of Third Series to final backbending. Aside from those three cuts there are no further edits. </p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">I also cut the video up into six separate segments, and over a period of several months in late 2020 and early 2021, I posted those segments to my Facebook page, along with an extensive commentary for each section. I have now collected all of those commentaries and posted them below, alongside each of the video segments, so the entire series now has a home as a collected whole here on my website. Each commentary focuses on some of the fundamental principles of the energetic dynamics of the Ashtanga system. The principles that I discuss in each section are inspired by that particular section of Third Series, however they are also principles which apply to the Ashtanga system as a whole, and therefore should be of interest and relevance to practitioners of all levels. </p>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #008000;">Part 1: Surya Namaskar A &amp; B + Standing Sequence</span></h3>
<p style="text-align: center;"><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5GmNAJAHCFU" width="560" height="315" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">00:00 &#8211; 5 x Surya Namaskara A</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">06:52 &#8211; 3 x Surya Namaskara B</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">12:41 &#8211; Padangusthasana &#8211; Padahastasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">14:10 &#8211; Trikonasana A &amp; B</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">16:12 &#8211; Parshvakonasana A &amp; B</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">18:03 &#8211; Prasarita Padottanasana A &#8211; D</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">21:29 &#8211; Parshvottanasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">In the Ashtanga system of asana practice, we always begin with 5 repetitions of Surya Namaskara A, 3 repetitions of Surya Namaskara B and the Standing Sequence, regardless of which series we are going to practice on that day. These first 25 &#8211; 30 minutes of practice are the same for all practitioners, regardless of whether one has yet to complete Primary Series, or whether one has been practicing Third or Fourth Series for decades.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">I&#8217;ve begun my daily practice with this 25 minute sequence each morning for the past 19 years. The repetitive nature of the Ashtanga system and the simplicity of this introductory section of the practice is a feature which some aspiring practitioners consider to be boring. The necessity of working through this initial aspect of self-encountering (the tendency to become distracted and bored while craving for gratification through novelty) dissuades them from delving deeper into the system. At my shala in Ubud, Bali, I frequently receive inquiries from practitioners with varied backgrounds who are interested in giving a trial to the Ashtanga practice. For someone who does not already have an established, daily Mysore style practice, the minimum requirement to join my class is one week of daily practice. One week of practice is actually not enough to begin to experience the essence of the Ashtanga practice&#8217;s influence on the human organism. A more appropriate initial trial length would be one month. Due to the transient nature of travelers passing through Ubud, I make a concession for one week. This requirement of time commitment is still enough to dissuade many potential students. It weeds out those who are not interested in cultivating focus and commitment.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Those who do commit to join for at least one week encounter the next requirement &#8211; which is the ability to memorize the vinyasa sequences of Surya Namaskara A &amp; B and the Standing Sequence, before they are moved on to begin learning the Primary Series. In today&#8217;s era of fragmented attention and instant gratification, memorizing this 25 &#8211; 30 minute sequence proves to be a challenge for many new students, and they often do not accomplish it within one week. Those who consider themselves to already be accomplished and advanced asana practitioners from other systems of practice &#8211; and who perhaps expect to be practicing hand stands, arm balances and advanced backbending &#8211; sometimes find that being asked to repeat the Standing Sequence three or four times (or until mistakes in memorizing the sequence are resolved) and then to lie down and take rest is not very gratifying for the ego. They often do not return for a second week of practice.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">For those who persevere, and apply themselves to this style of learning, a rich universe of authentic practice and self cultivation opens up for exploration. Surya Namaskara and the Standing Sequence become the cornerstone of a lifelong practice. It is the ground and the roots upon which we build the structure of the core series of asanas. It is the foundation that we can always return to in order to stabilize and recalibrate when the transformative process of the core series of asanas become overly intense or overwhelming. This is ground zero of Ashtanga practice.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Surya Namaskara A &amp; B introduce the fundamental process of coordinating the movements of body and breath in the vinyasa system of practice. For a true beginner, this alone can be enough to grapple with for at least a few days. The key postures Chaturanga Dandasana, Urdhva Mukha Svanasana (Upward Facing Dog) and Adho Mukha Svanasana (Downward Facing Dog) are introduced here. The sequence linking these three postures together is often repeated 50 times or more in a full series practice, so it is imperative that we cultivate some degree of experiential understanding and ease in these three postures.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">During the practice of Surya Namaskara, we can focus on the three core postures without the added complication of the other postures of Primary, Intermediate or Advanced series. In particular, it is important to cultivate some degree of comfort in Chaturanga Dandasana. For those who begin the Ashtanga practice with a lack of strength, or with certain injuries or disabilities, we can certainly modify Chaturanga in the beginning stages. In the majority of cases, I prefer that a student applies himself to develop the ability to practice Chaturanga properly (without the knees or belly on the ground) before I begin to teach them the seated asanas of Primary Series. I&#8217;ve had students join my shala who have been taught full Primary Series, and yet they cannot perform Chaturanga &#8211; Upward Dog &#8211; Downward Dog without touching their knees or belly on the ground. Cultivating a 90 minute full Primary Series practice of movement and flexibility without a corresponding cultivation of strength is an extremely imbalanced way to go about progressing through this practice, and I deem it to be incorrect. Also consider that asking someone to begin to cultivate a proper Chaturanga at this stage &#8211; when they are already practicing it in a modified way 50 or more times per session &#8211; would be overwhelming and destabilizing. It is much more appropriate to cultivate it properly from the beginning. The same philosophy applies to jumping. It is fine for beginners who lack confidence, strength and control to step forward and back &#8211; rather than jumping &#8211; in the beginning stages. However, by the time one is working on the first seated postures of Primary Series, I do expect at least a rudimentary form of jumping to be attempted.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The importance of the Standing Sequence is often overlooked. This sequence of postures is stabilizing, balancing and therapeutic in nature. Although the postures are basic, there are infinite layers of depth to be found within them for one who practices with a commitment to embodied awareness and an attitude of exploration. After 19 years of practicing this sequence each morning, I still regularly experience new insights within these postures. The way that I experience them within myself continues to evolve and and change over time. The Standing Sequence is often the most enjoyable part of my practice. I appreciate the relaxed stimulation of my body and breath opening up and aligning in a gentle way, before the more intensive postures of the core series exert their effect upon me. The way that I feel during the Standing Sequence is also an important indicator of the constantly changing state of my body, breath and nerves on each particular morning.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">A fundamental skill which is essential to cultivate in the Standing Sequence is the ability to harness the force of the earth and to channel it throughout the entirety of our body and breath. This is the core alignment which is common to each and every asana that we practice. It is also known as &#8220;Mula Bandha.&#8221; Mula Bandha is experienced when the part of our body which is in contact with the ground is able to press down into the earth with firmness and stability, while we simultaneously release tension in order to allow the resistance that comes from our engagement with the earth to spread and reverberate throughout our entire body. In essence, Mula Bandha is the experience of a continuous and unbroken energetic connection between ourselves and our surrounding environment. A tree drops its roots into the ground, while growing and spreading upward and outward into the space surrounding it. Similarly, our body and breath extend themselves downward into the earth, while simultaneously expanding outwards into the atmosphere around us. For me, asana practice is a cultivation of the fluidity of my relationship with my environment to the extent that the boundaries between myself and my environment are blurred. Bandha is a process of working with the ground and space as if they are extensions of one&#8217;s own body and breath. Refining the way that we respond to the ground beneath us and the space around us &#8211; at an intuitive and phenomenal level of experience &#8211; is the key to cultivating efficiency and fluidity in our movement patterns. I have written in greater detail about this process in my article <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/the-tree-of-bandha/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">&#8220;The Tree of Bandha.&#8221;</a></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Standing on the ground, and cultivating the ability to harness the earth&#8217;s energy through the soles of our feet is the appropriate place to begin to cultivate the process and state of Mula Bandha. Those who fail to learn how to harness the earth&#8217;s energy through their feet in the Standing Sequence, will most likely not be able to do so with other parts of their body in the more complex postures of the core series of asanas. I&#8217;ve seen practitioners who manage to get through Primary Series and some of Intermediate Series based on flexibility alone, without cultivating strength and stability through a solid connection to the earth. At some point in Intermediate Series, these practitioners become stuck and they aren&#8217;t able to move forward until they learn how to cultivate the foundational element of deepening their connection to the ground beneath them, so that effective and efficient movement can blossom from this base.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The grounding and stabilizing aspect of the Standing Sequence is also therapeutic in nature. When the structurally transformative process which is induced by the more intensive postures of Primary, Intermediate or Advanced series becomes overwhelming, and the body and nerves become destabilized and excessive pain is experienced, my advice is always to continue to practice at least the Standing Sequence &#8211; returning to ground zero &#8211; until things begin to stabilize and the system is able to manifest a certain degree of dynamic balance again. Once this balance is re-established, we can then move back into the core series of asanas.</p>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #008000;">Part 2: Advanced A &#8211; Lateral extensions and Leg Behind The Head Variations (Visvamitrasana &#8211; Durvasana)</span></h3>
<p style="text-align: center;"><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uZN7qKN5jSo" width="560" height="315" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">00:00 &#8211; Visvamitrasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">01:25 &#8211; Vasisthasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">02:33 &#8211; Kasyapasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">05:18 &#8211; Chakorasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">06:50 &#8211; Bhairavasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">08:51 &#8211; Skandasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">10:53  &#8211; Durvasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Third series can be divided into four distinct sections on the basis of energetic dynamics. Each of these four sections can be further divided into subsections, but the boundaries that delineate the four main sections are the most noteworthy for me and they mark distinctive turning points during my embodied experience of third series.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The first two sections of the series are deeply apanic in nature, while the concluding two sections are pranic in nature. Prana and apana represent opposing, but complementary forms of energetic movement within the human organism. Apana governs exhalation and the movement of energy in the downward direction, while prana governs inhalation, and the movement of energy in the upward direction. An intention of practice should be to cultivate a dynamic and balanced relationship between these two movements. If we are successful in nurturing harmonious communication between these two energetic patterns, we experience a state of bandha.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">In the previous section on the Standing Sequence,  I characterized the phenomena of bandha as an engaged relationship with our environment. In this context, apana is responsible for the ability to press downward with whichever part of our body is in contact with the earth. Those who are unable to engage firmly with the ground need to cultivate more apanic energy within themselves and their relationship with their environment. Apana is also responsible for the various elimination processes. Defecation, menstruation, and the release of stress and tension through a deep exhale or a heartfelt sigh are all examples of apanic energy movement. The apanic energy pattern is cultivated through postures which stretch the back part of the body (i.e. forward bending) or move the body toward the ground. Vinyasas which are apanic in nature are always executed with an exhalation. In terms of working with the breath, learning how to press the breath down into the root of the belly and the pelvis at the end of the exhalation will improve our proficiency in working with apana. Mastery of the apanic pole of the breath has been attained when we are able to feel clear contact between the end of the exhale and the pelvic floor.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Prana governs the complimentary response to the downward apana movement. It allows us to lift and spread upward. Apana allows us to tap into the energy of the earth (gravity) and prana distributes our response to the earth&#8217;s energy throughout our body. Those who are unable to feel a natural ease in lifting the ribcage up and away from the pelvis, and who frequently feel heavy, as if they are sinking down into the earth, need to cultivate more pranic energetic movement within themselves and their relationship with their environment. It should also be noted that prana requires resistance from the ground to manifest effectively. Asana should always be practiced on a firm surface for this reason. A rubber mat and thin cotton rug is usually firm enough, but anyone who has attempted to practice Ashtanga on a plush carpet, or loose sand has experienced the impossibility of overcoming the sinking feeling of excessive apana. I also recommend that seated meditation be practice on a firm surface, for the same reason. A folded wool blanket is the maximum softness which will allow for effective resistance to stimulate pranic lift in the body. Standard meditation cushions are too soft and will lead to compression in the spine due to excessive apana. Those who experience a backache after sitting in meditation for long periods of time should experiment with a firmer meditation cushion.  A similar philosophy also applies to sleeping mattresses. A night spent lying on a mattress which is too soft will result in a feeling of compression in practice the next morning.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The qualities of expansion and vitality are governed by prana. Asanas which stretch the front part of the body or lift us upward and away from the ground cultivate the movement of prana. In the Ashtanga system of practice, we execute these types of vinyasas with an inhalation. When working with the breath, we can maximize the expansion of prana by cultivating the ability to inhale into the entire thoracic cavity, including the top of the chest, between the scapula, and the sides of the chest below the armpits. When we can expand the inhalation freely and without restriction into these areas, we have mastered the pranic pole of breathing.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">As one matures in the Ashtanga system of practice, a realization tends to occur: The entire practice is designed to enhance and refine the way that we engage with the complementary movements of prana and apana within ourselves and with our environment. Bandha is both a process and result of fluid, stable and dynamic relationship between these two forms of energy, and is a defining feature of mature practice.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">There are various methods through which the dynamic balance between prana and apana is cultivated within the Ashtanga system of practice. We can first examine the energetic structure of the ordering of the vinyasa sequences. All of the vinyasa sequences &#8211; from Surya Namaskara A to the postures of Third and Fourth Series &#8211; follow a similar pattern of oscillation between pranic and apanic movements. For example, in Surya Namaskara A the vinyasas Ekam, Trini, Pancha, Sapta, and Nava are all pranic in nature and executed with an inhalation. The vinyasas Dve, Catvari, Sat and Astau are all apanic in nature and executed with an exhalation. In other words, we alternately stimulate prana and apana, from one vinyasa to the next, for the entire duration of our practice. The net effect of this continuous oscillation is an interwoven communication between prana and apana, which builds a state of bandha over the duration of practice.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">We can also examine the balance of prana and apana <em>within</em> each posture. Most postures can be characterized as either predominantly pranic or predominantly apanic in nature. To maintain dynamic balance between prana and apana &#8211; and to experience bandha &#8211; we must consciously cultivate the pattern that is opposite to the predominate natural pattern of each posture. For example, in a naturally apanic posture such a forward bend, we will predominantly experience the apanic pattern of the back of the body stretching and the movement of the body toward the ground. Yet, to maintain a balanced state within the posture &#8211; and thus to experience bandha &#8211; we should also consciously cultivate some pranic movement by maintaining spread and opening in the chest and lengthening the crown of the head towards the toes. We should also inhale deeply into the entire back of the rib cage. If we don&#8217;t add these pranic elements to a forward bend, and instead allow ourselves to flop over with the entire spine completely flexed and relaxed, the posture feels lifeless. By adding active and engaged pranic movements to a forward bend, we experience the flow of life force and the state of bandha due to a more balanced internal pattern. It is worth noting here that I don&#8217;t advocate the &#8220;yin&#8221; system of asana practice as a complement to the Ashtanga system. Ashtanga is not a &#8220;yang&#8221; practice, which needs to be balanced by a separate &#8220;yin&#8221; practice. The yang and yin &#8211; or prana and apana &#8211; can and should be experienced together within each posture, each breath, and across the energetic experience of the practice as a whole.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">We can also consider a counter example of the same principle:  In a naturally pranic posture or movement, such as backbend, we must consciously apply engaged apanic patterns in order to bring about the desired state of balance and bandha that we are attempting to nurture. Backbends tend to feel exhilarating and energizing as they lift us away from the earth. If we overindulge in this phenomena, our internal experience can resemble a manic high, which is neither sustainable nor balanced. At some point later on we will crash and experience a &#8220;backbending hangover.&#8221; I&#8217;ve witnessed practitioners drive themselves deeply into imbalance and pathology by repeating this process over a long period of time. In order to experience the positive benefits of backbending in a balanced and sustainable way, we must add apanic elements to these postures. Pressing the body downward into the earth and consciously cultivating stability in both body and breath is the most effective way to do this. In Urdhva Danurasana, for example, we must actively press the feet down into the ground. The next time you practice backbending and dropping back and standing up, see if you can do so without moving your feet from their initial position on your mat. This will give you a sense of how grounded (or not) your backbends are. Those who are not able to maintain a solid apanic connection to the ground are not yet energetically prepared to integrate the pranic stimulation of deeper backbending.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Another important aspect of the dynamic balance between prana and apana to consider is the long term psychological and physiological tendencies that we carry. We&#8217;ve discussed how most postures have a natural pranic or apanic bias to them. People also have an innate structural bias towards either pranic or apanic energy as their natural baseline state. Those who have an anteriorly tilted pelvis tend to have a pranic energetic bias, while those who have a posteriorly tilted pelvis tend to have an apanic energetic bias. The preceding statement is a gross generalization, and each individual experience is subtle, complex and nuanced, but our natural biases are an important factor to consider. Understanding our personal pranic &#8211; apanic biases will help us to understand why some postures, movements and breathing patterns feel more natural and comfortable, while we struggle with others. This bias will also shift and change over time, as the practice shapes and alters our innate structure. When the Ashtanga system is applied <em>correctly &#8211; </em>that is, when we are required to complete each posture or movement before learning the next one in the series &#8211; we are forced to encounter, cultivate and integrate the movement patterns which are less natural and comfortable for us. This is what makes the Ashtanga system unique in its structurally transformative and balancing effects. Progress through the system must be gradual, if it is to be sustainable. Deep structural changes which shift our fundamental biases require time, patience, and often involve a certain degree of discomfort as we integrate them. A skillful teacher will ensure that his students work through this process in a way that is sustainable and not overwhelming.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Finally, we can zoom out to observe the relationship between prana and apana across the broader scale of the structure of entire series. Primary Series is apanic in nature. Only two of the postures (Purvottanasana and Setubandhasana) are pranic. Apana represents the roots from which the tree of prana rises and spreads. This is why we begin our journey through the Ashtanga system by fully developing the rooting apanic pattern in Primary Series. Once the roots of apana are firmly established within us, we can use this stable foundation as a base upon which we nurture the growth pranic energy.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Urdhva Danurasana represents a counter posture to the entire Primary Series, and cultivation of pranic energy though backbending at the end of the series is necessary to elicit an overall balance. Developing some integrated experience of pranic energy through proficiency in backbending (including the ability to stand up from and drop back into Urdhva Danurasana) at this stage is necessary before we learn Intermediate Series.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The first section of Intermediate Series features a powerful sequence of eight backbending postures in a row. The net effect of practicing these postures together, with the connecting vinyasas and breathing, creates an experience of pranic stimulation which most practitioners are unprepared for. It is not uncommon for practitioners who begin a daily practice of this sequence to experience disturbed sleeping patterns, vivid dreams, resurfacing of old and possibly traumatic memories and emotional instability. These phenomena illustrate the extent to which the transformative influence of the Ashtanga system reaches the deepest layers of our embodied selves. It is worth repeating that a stable and integrated practice of the apanic Primary Series, along with the initial pranic experience of standing up and dropping back from Urdhva Danurasana are essential prerequisites to attempting to integrate the more intensive pranic experience of the first section of Intermediate Series.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The next section of Intermediate Series features leg behind the head postures and arm balances. This section provides a stronger apanic stimulation than primary series provides, and also counters the pranic stimulation of the first section of Intermediate Series. It is at this stage that we can remove Primary Series from our daily practice, and focus on Intermediate as a stand-alone practice, since both the pranic and apanic sections have now been cultivated within Intermediate Series.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Third Series reverses the order of energetic patterning that we experience in Intermediate Series. In Third Series, we begin with apanic stimulation and finish with pranic stimulation. Changing the order in which we stimulate the two patterns elicits a very different phenomenal experience of the practice.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The first section of Third Series begins with Visvamitrasana and Vasisthasana. I consider these two postures to be advanced variations of the standing postures Trikonasana and Parshvakonasana, respectively. We could refer to these postures as Trikonasana C and Parshvakonasana C. In terms of the pranic &#8211; apanic energy spectrum, these postures are relatively neutral in nature. Beginning the series with these two postures functions as an extension of the Standing Sequence, which is helpful when we are practicing Third Series as a stand-alone practice (without preceding it with Intermediate Series). This subsection is an effective way to ease into the series before the deeper postures which follow.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The remainder of the first section of Third Series features a deeply apanic sequence of five variations of Eka Pada Sirsasana (leg behind the head). It is essential that one has mastered Eka Pada and Dwi Pada Sirsasana in Intermediate Series, before one is moved on to begin Third Series. Unfortunately, this is often not the case. Dwi Pada Sirsasana is one of the most poorly performed postures in the Ashtanga system. I have observed very few students who are taught this important posture properly &#8211; that is, cultivating the ability to spread the feet apart with the toes pointed away from each other and to keep the head held upright. I struggled with this posture myself, and it was only when I went to Mysore to practice with Sharath Jois for the first time in 2014, that I was required to learn the correct technique. I detailed my experience with Dwi Pada in my article <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/you-stop-there-lessons-from-sharath-jois/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">&#8220;You Stop There.&#8221;</a></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Those who fail to cultivate the prerequisite depth and comfort in the Intermediate variations of leg behind the head are far more likely to encounter structural issues if they are taught the five variations in Third Series prematurely. Practicing these five variations in a row with the connecting vinyasas induces a tremendous amount of structural shifting  &#8211; especially for those who have a natural pranic bias in their body structure. If the ground work has not been sufficient to prepare oneself for this experience, there is a high likelihood of experiencing pain in the hips, pelvis and lower back as the core part of the body restructures to accommodate the daily inputs of these extreme apanic postures. It is also essential to have developed enough strength and opening in the upper body and shoulder girdle to safely hold the leg behind the head without strain on the neck. This sequence should not be approached casually or lightly. For those who are prepared, and who learn these postures in the gradual manner that is taught in Mysore, our understanding and mastery of the apanic energetic pattern is deepened and these postures provide a grounded entry into the power of third series.</p>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #008000;">Part 3: Advanced A &#8211; Arm Balances (Urdhva Kukkutasana &#8211; Astavakrasana)</span></h3>
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<p style="text-align: justify;">00:00 &#8211; Urdhva Kukkutasana A</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">00:44 &#8211; Urdhva Kukkutasana B</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">01:22 &#8211; Urdhva Kukkutasana C</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">02:08 &#8211; Galavasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">03:11 &#8211; Eka Pada Bakasana A</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">04:17 &#8211; Eka Pada Bakasana B</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">05:23 &#8211; Koundinyasana A</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">06:28 &#8211; Koundinyasana B</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">07:38 &#8211; Astavakrasana A</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">08:45 &#8211; Astavakrasana B</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The second section of apanic postures is considered to be the most demanding part of Third Series by many practitioners. This section features ten consecutive arm balancing postures. If we count both sides the bilateral postures, the total is seventeen consecutive arm balances. Those who have a natural apanic bias in their physical structure will tend to have an easier time with this section than those who have a pranic bias. For pranic types, this section will undoubtedly pose the greatest challenge in Third Series. The potential for profound structural transformation is accordingly high for a pranic practitioner who dedicates the time and musters the necessary perseverance to master this section.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">A sufficient level of strength cultivation is the most obvious prerequisite to completing this section of the practice. Mastery of Intermediate postures such as Bakasana, Karandavasana, Mayurasana and Nakrasana (along with their connecting vinyasas) and deep stability and comfort in Chaturanga Dandasana will be necessary before tackling the arm balance section of Third Series. There is simply no possibility of compromising for a lack of strength by working around, avoiding or modifying these ten postures, which represent a significant chunk of Third Series. At this stage, one must fully embrace the strengthening aspect of the Ashtanga practice.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Strength is not the only necessary factor for mastery of these postures. A sense of ease in accessing the apanic rounding pattern of the back and pelvis is also extremely important. The rounding pattern is essential to experience the full expression of the first six of these arm balances &#8211; which are done with straight arms and the back rounded in the characteristic apanic shape. The apanic rounding is less relevant to the final four arm balances, which are done with the arms bent and the spine in a twisting pattern. The rounded shape of the back is cultivated through mastery of Intermediate postures such as Bakasana, Dwi Pada Sirsasana and Karandavasana and Primary postures such as Baddha Konasana B</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Eka Pada Bakasana A is the most difficult of these ten arm balances. The apanic rounding of the back is absolutely necessary, in order to attain the full expression of the posture with both of the arms relatively straight, the kneecap of the bent leg placed on the arm and the foot of the bent leg pulled up. Most practitioners end up doing the &#8220;easier&#8221; version of this posture, where the shin of the bent leg rests on the arm (rather than the kneecap) and the foot of the the bent leg hangs down, which ultimately makes it impossible to straighten the arm that the bent leg is resting upon. This was one of the Third Series postures which posed the greatest difficulty for me to learn (the other being Gandha Berundasana, which comes in the next section). For over a decade, I did the &#8220;easy&#8221; version of this posture. It was only when I was given Eka Pada Bakasana A in my practice with Sharath Jois on my fourth trip to Mysore in 2018, that I was required to learn the full version in order to satisfy his standards. I am happy to have been pushed to this level of integrity in my practice, as the full version always felt out of reach for me prior to that trip. Two and a half years later, my ability to execute this posture has improved significantly, though it is certainly still a work in progress (as are all of the postures in the practice).</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The third aspect of self-cultivation which is indispensable for success in the arm balance section of Third Series is that of stamina and concentration. The qualities of stamina and concentration go hand in hand. They support one another and work together synergistically. It is impossible to fully cultivate one of these qualities without the other. Mastery of these qualities within the Ashtanga practice is represented by the ability to flow through all of the vinyasas and postures of a particular section or series without the need to stop and break the flow of body and breath in order to rest, or to distract oneself with anything outside of the structured flow of the vinyasa count. In other words, stamina and concentration are responsible for the ability to follow the flow of the vinyasa count precisely, without breaking or deviating from the count for the duration of one&#8217;s practice.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The ability to &#8220;follow the count&#8221; is one of the most important, but least recognized components of mastery of the Ashtanga system of practice. Teachers who focus on this feature of the practice in the training of their students tend to produce the strongest and most stable practitioners. This is one of the defining features of the teaching style of Sharath Jois (and those of his authorized teachers who follow his teaching faithfully.) I&#8217;ve noticed that the ability to follow the vinyasa count tends to be lacking in students who prefer to learn from &#8220;workshop teachers&#8221; &#8211; many of whom seem to discard the importance of the vinyasa counting system from their teaching styles. At my shala in Bali, I&#8217;ve encountered students who have been trained by &#8220;workshop teachers&#8221; to the level of Intermediate or even Third Series. Some of these students haven&#8217;t even learned what the appropriate vinyasa counts are, let alone cultivated an ability to flow through them without interruption. These same students tend to have distracted, unfocussed practices, lack stamina, and often complain of chronic pains and injuries.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">In the previous section, I discussed the structure of the vinyasa count with respect to the way that it alternately stimulates prana and apana, via oscillation between apanic vinyasas, executed with an exhalation, and pranic vinyasas, executed with an inhalation. When a practitioner cultivates the ability to focus continuously on this oscillating internal pattern of breath and bodily movement in a meditation on internal form, the phenomena of bandha builds up within him. Bandha is not something that can be turned on or off from moment to moment with a simple muscular contraction. I am sometimes asked by students if they should be &#8220;holding bandha.&#8221; Bandha is not something that can be &#8220;held.&#8221; Rather, it is something that is built up through sustained flow and internal concentration on the continuous movement of body and breath. For steam to build up in a pressure cooker, heat must be applied continuously, and the lid must be kept tightly sealed on the pot. If the application of heat is stopped &#8211; even for a few moments &#8211; the internal buildup of pressure in the pot will cease and the pressure will begin to decrease. If we take the lid off the pot, the internal pressure escapes completely. Similarly, if we stop the continuous oscillation between pranic and apanic stimulation via the flow of breath and movement through the vinyasas, then we remove the heat which drives the buildup of internal pressure which generates bandha. If our concentration wanders away from our embodied, phenomenal experience, then we have taken the lid off the pot and we lose everything. Nothing inside gets &#8220;cooked&#8221; and we don&#8217;t experience the internal transformation that we could potentially have experienced.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Sharathji once made a comment during conference that stuck with me and is relevant to the present discussion. He said that the biggest cause of injury in practice is a lack of concentration. I had never thought about this fact in these particular terms before, but the statement resonated with my understanding of the practice and injury completely. As I previously mentioned, it is often those students who have not been trained to follow the vinyasa count precisely, and who have distracted and unfocussed practices, who seem to be nursing chronic pains and injuries. These students tend to address these injuries by deviating from the structure of the practice even further &#8211; obsessively squirming around, adding in extra stretches in between postures and vinyasas and skipping certain postures and vinyasas altogether. They generate a vicious circle where the very thing that contributed to their injuries (improper application of the Ashtanga system) becomes the tool they attempt to use to address their injury, which only drives them deeper into discomfort. When I encounter such a student in my shala, I usually address the issue by bringing them back to the foundational sequences &#8211; Standing Sequence and Primary Series &#8211; and I train them to move slowly and carefully through these sequences with emphasis on focus and attention towards the count of the vinyasa. In most cases &#8211; for those who are willing to follow my instructions for a sustained period of time &#8211; the injuries and pains work themselves out, and the student then progresses further into the system feeling stronger and more stable. When one is deeply focused on the vinyasa count and engrossed within one&#8217;s internal experience of movement of body and breath, a profoundly embodied state of being arises which is characterized by the primacy of intuitive, animal intelligence. This is a state where injury or mistakes that will lead to excessive pain are much less likely to occur.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">When we remain internally focused on the sensations involved with the flow of body and breath, and we commit to staying with the continuous flow of vinyasa from one posture to the next, we encounter challenging experiences within ourselves. The state of bandha is not a natural experience which would occur in ordinary circumstances outside of the practice. When we build bandha through continuous flow of body and breath, we experience unique sensations in deep somatic layers, which are unlike sensations that we would naturally encounter our mundane lives. These sensations can be connected to subconscious samskara patterns (habitual patterns of reaction which we generate throughout our lives, and which we tend to default to.) These deeper sensations can sometimes feel overwhelming and unpleasant (though they can also sometimes feel blissful and intoxicating), and the default tendency will be to react to these sensations by attempting to avoid them. This is particularly common when we approach or arrive at the most difficult postures or vinyasas in our practice. Aversion and the tendency towards avoidance lead us to either stop and take a rest, or perhaps to distract ourselves by adding in extra stretches, squirming around, looking at other people practicing near us, picking our toenails, or any of the myriad of escape techniques that practitioners employ.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">When the process of building bandha through continuous flow of body and breath is sustained for longer stretches of time, our internal experience and the samskaras that we encounter can become even more challenging. This is why it it is necessary to build the intensity our practice up gradually, taking the time to adapt to each section of practice by training ourselves to be non-reactive towards the internal sensations that arise through the unique experience of flowing through the vinyasa count. If we hold ourselves accountable to the vinyasa count for each section of practice, and train ourselves to master the ability to flow through the count without interruption, then we can adapt to our inner experience and work through these layers of samskara patterns in a sustainable way. If we don&#8217;t habituate gradually, and we launch into the more intensive postures and vinyasa sequences of Intermediate and Third Series prematurely, the samskara patterns which arise can be overwhelming and destabilizing, causing serious emotional and energetic imbalance. This can lead to a full blown breakdown which often results in abandonment of the Ashtanga practice altogether. If one does take the time and effort to work though these layers of samskara in a gradual and sustainable way, one becomes stronger and more resilient emotionally and energetically. Emotional and energetic resilience and equanimity are key signs of correct long term application of practice.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">When I consider whether to move a student forward and add more postures to their practice, the ability for that student to flow through the vinyasa count of their current practice without interruption and without exhibiting signs of being energetically or emotionally overwhelmed is an extremely important factor. It is of equal importance as the mastery of the postures themselves. A student may be able to bind or complete all of the postures in his practice perfectly, but if he cannot flow smoothly through the vinyasas without becoming distracted or excessively fatigued, then I won&#8217;t move him forward and teach him new asanas until his focus and stamina improves. This is also a factor that I closely monitor when judging the state of my own practice.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The arm balance section of Third Series is a make or break point in terms of stamina and concentration. Most students will need to stop and take breaks during this section, especially when they are in the process of learning it. In my opinion, this section of Third Series is not mastered until one can flow through it without interruption, following the vinyasa counts.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Following the vinyasa counts does not mean that one cannot take extra breaths here or there, when necessary. Taking extra breaths <i>within</i> the flow of the vinyasa is quite different from dropping out of the flow altogether to rest, or to distract oneself. Taking extra breaths within the flow of the vinyasa count lessens the intensity of internal experience, but allows one to maintain the process of building bandha. If you watch the video closely, you might notice that I do take some extra breaths in my execution of the arm balance section of Third Series. For example, when I jump into headstand, and then position my leg on my arm, in a few of the postures I then take an extra inhale and exhale, before I then inhale into the final state of the posture itself. Ideally, even these extra breaths should eventually be eliminated completely. In Primary Series, it is possible to flow through the entire series without these sorts of extra breaths. In Intermediate, and especially Advanced Series, most mortals will need a few extra breaths here and there.</p>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #008000;">Part 4: Advanced A &#8211; Transitions and Peak Backbending (Purna Matsyendrasana &#8211; Supta Trivikramasana)</span></h3>
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<p style="text-align: justify;">00:00 &#8211; Purna Matsyendrasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">02:10 &#8211; Viranchyasana A</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">04:47 &#8211; Viranchyasana B</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">08:32 &#8211; Viparita Dandasana A</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">09:55 &#8211; Viparita Dandasana B</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">11:40 &#8211; Viparita Salabhasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">12:46 &#8211; Gandha Berundasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">14:06 &#8211; Hanumanasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">16:08 &#8211; Supta Trivikramasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The third section of Third Series features the transition from the apanic energetic cultivation of the first half of the series into the pranic cultivation of the second half of the series. This section also features what I consider to be the energetic culmination of the series in the difficult backbending postures Viparita Salabhasana and Gandha Berundasana.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The transition from apanic to pranic movement patterns occurs over three seated postures: Purna Matsyendrasana, Viranchyasana A and Viranchyasana B. These postures maintain a slight apanic bias in their nature, but help to prepare one for the subsequent backbending postures by also featuring strong pranic elements. Purna Matsyendrasana and Viranchyasana B are both twisting postures, which require apanic movements in the lower body, combined with pranic expansion of the upper body. Viranchyasana A is a variation on the leg behind the head theme, which is deeply apanic, but also features pranic cultivation with the addition of binding the arms in Gomukhasana style.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">I find these three transitional postures to be the calmest part of Third Series. They are a welcome respite after the intensity of the arm balances which precede this section, and before the peak backbending which follows these postures. These three postures are complex, as they combine elements from several different categories of posture. Provided one has completed the necessary groundwork to established the various types of required mobility, the energetic demands are less here than in other parts of Third Series, giving this section a feeling of calm between the apanic and pranic storms which precede and follow it, respectively.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Transitioning back and forth between pranic and apanic movement patterns is an important feature of the Ashtanga practice. As I have previously discussed, bandha manifests through a fluid and dynamic balance between the pranic and apanic energetic poles. If we are successful in cultivating the phenomena of bandha, one hallmark should be ease and resilience in our ability to move back and forth between opposing patterns of movement and energy. In other words, a sign of maturity and competence in the Ashtanga practice is the ability to move effortlessly and fluidly between pranic and apanic trends.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">A state of bandha is analogous to walking upon a high and narrow mountain ridge between two valleys. From the vantage point of the ridge, we can clearly see the terrain of both valleys and if we should choose to move into either valley, we can easily do so from the central point of the top of the ridge. Conversely, if we are stuck in either one of the valleys, it is impossible to see the terrain in the other valley. If we want to move into the other valley, it requires great effort as we must first climb up the ridge, and then down into the opposite valley.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">I once had a unique experience while walking along a steep and high ridge while trekking in the Indian Himalaya. I was trekking alone, without a guide or companions. It was mid-morning, and I had set off from my starting point about 90 minutes prior to reaching the ridge. I hadn&#8217;t seen anyone, or any signs of human settlement since setting off, and I wasn&#8217;t fully confident that I was on the correct route to my destination. The ridge and the surrounding mountainscape were stunning and I felt intoxicated by the power of the mountain wilderness. At the same time, I felt a gnawing apprehension due to the extremity of the environment and the potential of getting lost.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">There were broken sections of thin rock wall upon the ridge, and the walking path meandered back and forth from one side of the rock wall to the other. When the walking path passed along the side of the wall which exposed me to the Northwest and blocked my exposure to the Southeast, I was struck by a ferocious and icy cold wind blowing from the main Himalaya range. There was no sun on this side and the path was full of patches of snow and ice, as was the steep and foreboding valley that lay on this side of the ridge and the jagged mountain peaks that stretched out beyond the valley. The icy wind stung my face and threatened to throw me off balance as I carefully navigated the icy patches of ground. I felt my fear and apprehension of getting lost increase dramatically when I was on this side of the rock wall. Then suddenly the rock wall would end and a new section of rock wall would emerge, with the foot path running on the opposite side of the wall, exposing me to the Southeast and blocking my exposure to the Northwest. As soon as I passed onto this side of the rock wall, the entire universe shifted. The howling wind was abruptly cut off by the wall and replaced with a calm stillness, punctuated only by the heartening chirp of birdsong. The sun shone warmly on this side. There was no snow or ice and the valley running down this side of the ridge towards the gentle foothills was green and sparkled majestically in the morning sunlight. I loosened my clothing and felt my mood shift just as abruptly as the wind had ceased. Here, I felt confident that I was on the right path and I basked in the gentle warmth of the morning sun and birdsong playing on my senses. Then, the rock wall would end again and the next section would take me back to the opposite side with its wind, cold and fear. My memory of walking this particular ridge exemplifies the experience of bandha. When we are moving from the perspective and vantage point of bandha, we can taste the essence of both extremes which lie on either side of the middle line, and we can effortlessly move back and forth between them. It is this vantage point and perspective which we should strive to cultivate in our Ashtanga practice, always keeping one foot on the ridge of bandha, while we move between the opposing valleys of prana and apana.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">As we progress through the sections and series of the Ashtanga system, the macro level transitions between pranic and apanic tendencies becomes more intense and more challenging to navigate. The more deeply we venture into either extreme of prana or apana, the more difficult it becomes to move back into the opposite pattern. Using the example of the mountain ridge, we can say that the further we descend into one valley, the more difficult it becomes to climb back up to the ridge and then down into the other valley. One of the first places we may encounter this challenge in the Ashtanga system is after Supta Kurmasana in Primary Series. Supta Kurmasana is one of the deepest expressions of apanic energy in Primary Series. Many people will find that after exiting from Supta Kurmasana, the subsequent upward facing dog (a pranic position) will feel a little bit stiffer than usual.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The next place we may encounter this challenge is in practicing the backbending sequence (Urdhva Danurasana and dropping back and standing up) at the end of Primary Series. After spending the entirety of the Primary Series cultivating an apanic pattern in the body and nerves, it can feel difficult to suddenly attempt to move deeply into the opposing pranic pattern with Urdhva Danurasana. Dropping back and standing up &#8211; and perhaps even catching the legs with the hands &#8211; brings us even deeper into pranic expression. Some newcomers to the system complain about the abruptness of this transition and about the requisite of cultivating the ability to drop back and stand up from Urdhva Danurasana before starting Intermediate Series. It&#8217;s common for people to suggest that practicing the milder backbends at the beginning of Intermediate Series is a more appropriate way to ease the transition into the deeper backbending of Urdhva Danurasana and dropping back and standing up. I address this issue by pointing out that Ashtanga system is designed to aid us in cultivating the skill to move between the extremes of prana and apana with ease and fluidity. As we cultivate the elemental skills of the practice, we should require fewer transitional steps to move between extremes. The transitions between deeply apanic and deeply pranic sections of postures increase in intensity as we move into Intermediate and Advanced Series, so it is essential that we cultivate some skill in transitioning between extremes while we are still in Primary Series.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">After completing backbending, we flip back into apanic energy with Paschimottanasana. Just as upward facing dog can feel a bit stiff after Supta Kurmasana, most practitioners have probably had the experience of needing a few breaths to get fully into Paschimottanasana after drop backs or catching the legs in backbending. The ease and fluidity with which we can move between these extremes is indicative of our state of internal balance and bandha. If we can easily move into a full Paschimottanasana without resistance after deep backbending, this indicates that our body and nervous system are relatively stable energetically balanced. If, however, we feel stiff and it requires a few breaths to fully move into Paschimottanasana after backbending &#8211; and especially if this phenomena happens for several days in a row &#8211; this indicates that our body and nerves are not in an ideal state of balance. This could be due to some deeper structural shifting that is taking place. In this case, it is appropriate to exercise increased caution and awareness in our practice until things feel more balanced and a sense of ease returns to our pranic &#8211; apanic transitions.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">In Intermediate series, we encounter the macro level transition from the peak pranic posture Kapotasana to the peak apanic postures Eka and Dwi Pada Sirsasana. This can be a tricky section of the series to navigate and it is essential that the learning and integration process not be rushed. Students should cultivate ease and full integration of each posture before learning the next one in the series. An experienced teacher will usually keep a student on Kapotasana for some time, even after the student has cultivated the ability to catch the heels with the hands. Keeping a student on Kapotasana for a few weeks (at least) after attaining the ability to complete the posture will ensure that the peak pranic experience is deeply imprinted in the body and nerves. This integration of the extreme pranic pattern will make the subsequent transition to peak apanic movements less destabilizing. If a student is moved past Kapotasana prematurely, the result is often that the ability to catch the heels in Kapotasana is lost when the apanic cultivation of putting the legs behind the head begins to be developed. If one is simultaneously struggling with both Kapotasana and Eka Pada Sirsasana, the potential for the body and nerves to become completely overwhelmed &#8211; and for a painful breakdown to occur &#8211; is much higher.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Cultivation of new structural and energetic patterns in the self-organizing network of the human organism is a process that cannot be rushed. The power and depth of the re-organizing process which is induced by the Ashtanga system must be respected. Rushing through the system prematurely and without proper integration of each step is a sign of immaturity and lack of respect (often on the part of a teacher who encourages their students to move through a series too quickly), and inevitably leads to negative results such as excessive pain and emotional and energetic imbalance. The vast majority of injuries and negative experiences in the Ashtanga system are caused by moving through the series too quickly and without respect for the depth of the process. I believe this is the main reason Sharathji chose to slow down the pace at which students are taught new postures over the years after he took over from his grandfather.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">In the third section of Third Series, the buildup to the peak of pranic backbending in Gandha Berundasana occurs quickly, over four backbending postures. Gandha Berundasana was the most difficult asana in Third Series for me to learn, and is still the most psychologically intimidating part of the series for me. On the majority of my Third Series practice days, I catch myself thinking &#8220;I can&#8217;t do that today&#8221; at the beginning of my practice. Experience has taught me that this doubt is always unfounded. Rather than obsessing about sections of the practice which are yet to arrive, I let go of those thoughts as soon as they occur, and drop into embodied presence within each movement and each breath. I patiently complete each posture and vinyasa of the practice with this embodied awareness. Then, when I do arrive at Gandha Berundasana, I find there is no longer any doubt and I am always able move into it with minimal struggle. I wrote at length about my process of learning this posture, and my experience of practicing it with Sharath Jois in the main shala on <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/reflections-on-my-fifth-trip-in-mysore/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">my last trip to Mysore.</a></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">A final reflection on the cultivation of the ability to transition between pranic and apanic states in our practice is to understand how this trains us to be able to shift energetic states in our daily lives off of the mat. We all have physiological biases in our bodies towards pranic or apanic patterning. Similarly, we all have habitual states of our nervous system which we default to in our interactions with the world. All states of the nervous system have advantages and disadvantages. Some states are appropriate in certain situations and inappropriate in others. If we remain limited to a small repertoire of states in our nervous system, and we always default to these select few states, we limit our ability to engage with life in the fullest and most effective way possible. If we cultivate the ability to move between all of the different possible states of our nervous system with ease and fluidity, then are able to engage with life more effectively. Cultivating the ability to transition easily between pranic and apanic postures and movements in the Ashtanga practice &#8211; and to feel equally comfortable in all off the different varieties of postures &#8211; will aid us directly in cultivating more resilience and fluidity in the way our nervous system responds to different situations in life. We use our practice to reconfigure our nervous system to function more effectively and efficiently.</p>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #008000;">Part 5: Advanced A &#8211; Standing Balances &amp; Final Backbending (Digasana &#8211; Eka Pada Rajakapotasana)</span></h3>
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<p style="text-align: justify;">00:00 &#8211; Digasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">01:14 &#8211; Trivikramasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">02:08 &#8211; Natarajasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">03:29 &#8211; Rajakapotasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">04:05 &#8211; Eka Pada Rajakapotasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The final section of Third Series consists of five postures, all of which are pranic in nature, and three of which are deep backbends. This section begins with a return to Samasthiti, followed by three postures which involve balancing on one leg. After the deep backbending (Gandha Berundasana, etc.) of the previous section, the standing balances function to restore some stability and grounding to the body and nerves. Although the three standing balances are pranic in nature, they also require deep focus on the standing leg and the connection of the foot to the ground. These features aid in cultivating the apanic qualities of strength and stability, which are essential to counterbalance the strong pranic stimulation of the second half of Third Series.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">After completing the standing balances, we return to the ground for the final two postures, Rajakapotasana and Eka Pada Rajakapotasana, both of which are deep and stimulating backbends.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Although none of the five postures in this section could reasonably be classified as &#8220;easy&#8221;, they are less difficult than the peak backbending of Viparita Salabhasana and Gandha Berundasana in the previous section. The aforementioned postures are the peak &#8220;hump&#8221; in Third Series, and after completing them there is a tangible feeling of winding down as one approaches the end of the series. Although the five final postures of Third Series do require meticulous presence and depth, once one has attained the ability to complete Gandha Berundasana, there are no major challenges remaining.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">All of the series in the Ashtanga system share the feature of having the most challenging postures in the middle section of the series. The final section of each series is a winding down of sorts, with relatively easier and somewhat restorative or grounding postures.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">In Primary Series the peak challenges of the series occur in the section from Marichasana D to Garbha Pindasana. Once Garbha Pindasana has been completed, the final section of postures are much easier, and several of them are performed in the Supta (reclined) position, lying on the back. These Supta Variations are restorative in nature and function to replenish one&#8217;s energy reserves after the peak effort required in the middle of the series.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">In Intermediate Series, there are three postures which comprise the peak challenges, all of which occur in the middle part of the series. Those postures are Kapotasana, Dwi Pada Sirsasana and Karandavasana. Once Karandavasana has been completed, the final section of Intermediate Series won&#8217;t pose any significant challenges. The final few postures involve twisting and lateral movements, which are restorative and help to release any tensions in the back which may have arisen from the deeper peak postures. The seven Sirsasana variations which close the series are restorative in nature.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The phenomena of winding down with easier postures towards the end of a series helps to stabilize the internal energetic dynamics, so that one can approach the final backbending and finishing postures in a state of relative calm and repose.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">There are a total of seven deep backbending postures in Third Series, all of which occur in the second half of the series. In my discussions of Third Series thus far, I have focused extensively on the dynamic balance between the opposing patterns of prana and apana, and how the two patterns collaborate to create bandha via their antagonistic energetic movements. I&#8217;d like to conclude my discussion of Third Series by acknowledging that there are also antagonistic patterns <em>within</em> both pranic and apanic categories of postures.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">It is natural to assume that if a person is competent at performing certain backbending postures, this competency will extend to all backbends. This is untrue, and it was the seven backbending postures in Third Series which gave me an experiential understanding of this fact. Although all seven of the Third Series backbends are pranic in nature, and all seven postures involve deep extension of the spine, there are also antagonistic movement patterns within this subset of postures. For example, when I first began to practice Third Series, well over a decade ago, I noticed that on days where Viparita Salabhasana felt quite deep, Rajakapotasana would feel more difficult than usual, and vice versa. This is extremely counterintuitive. If we examine the two aforementioned postures, we can see that the shape of the body itself is nearly identical in both postures, with the only major difference being the orientation of the body with respect to the ground.  My experience of the antagonism between these two postures makes little sense, if one approaches the analysis from a reductive, mechanical perspective.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">I no longer experience the antagonistic dynamic between the aforementioned two postures, however I do experience antagonism within the seven backbends in Third Series in other ways. When I filmed the practice that I have presented in the videos here &#8211; in September 2020 &#8211; I was able to press my heels onto the ground in Gandha Berundasana. This had been the case for several months prior to the filming of the video. However, at this time I had difficulty in keeping my heels together and touching the entire foot on my head in Viparita Salabhasana, as well as in Vrichikasana (both the variation in the final backbending sequence and the variation in Fourth Series). I could touch my toes on my head, but I struggled to keep my heels together, and could not fully press my heels to my head. Gandha Berundasana is structurally very similar to Viparita Salabhasana / Vrichikasana, however I found the former to be easier than the later. Then, a short time after filming this video, the bias between this antagonistic set of postures switched. Over a period of several weeks, it felt like my ability to keep my heels together and press my feet more fully into my head was improving dramatically, but at the same time, my ability to press my heels on the ground in Gandha Berundasana became more difficult. By November, I found it very easy to keep my heels together and was able to fully press my heels on my head for a sustained period of time in both Viparita Salabhasana and the two Vrichikasana variations. This represented a depth of movement I had never previously experienced. At the same time, I completely lost the ability to touch the heels to the ground in Gandha Berundasana. I could still catch my feet with my hands, and I could press my toes on the ground, but I could no longer bring the heels all the way down. At the time of writing &#8211; in February 2021 (and still, at the time of posting this article on my website, in May 2022) &#8211; this antagonism and bias between these two very similar types of pranic posture remains in the state I have just described.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Maturity in the Ashtanga practice should lead one to the experiential understanding that antagonism and trade-offs between moving parts are a fundamental property of self-organized living systems. An even more important realization is the fact that we have very little control over how these trade-offs and antagonisms manifest themselves. I have observed that relatively few practitioners and teachers posses this important insight. More commonly, I see reductive biomechanics being erroneously applied to the Ashtanga practice, and to the human organism in general.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The pioneering systems biologists Humberto Maturana and Francisco Varela beautifully described an important property of complex living systems with the following statement:</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">&#8220;You can never direct a living system. You can only disturb it.&#8221;</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">A <em>complicated system</em>, such as a machine, is fundamentally different from a <em>complex system</em>, such as a cell, a human being, or an ecosystem. All living systems are complex systems. They self-organize, behave non-linearly, and are fundamentally less predictable than complicated systems. We can direct the behaviour of a complicated machine such as an airplane or a factory. One who devotes the necessary time to study and fully understand the mechanics of how these complicated systems function is able to manipulate certain parts of the system, in order to attain a predictable and desired result. It is for this reason that airplanes generally succeed in transporting millions of people through the sky without disaster each day of the year. Complicated systems are predictable and they can be directed by one who has the skill and knowledge to do so.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The fundamental fallacy of modern biomechanics and medical science is the assumption that complex, living systems will also behave predictably if we attempt to direct them. In the postural yoga and Ashtanga world, we often see this philosophy applied. If one experiences tightness, or discomfort in the shoulders, for example, a teacher who applies biomechanics philosophy may recommend adding in some &#8220;shoulder openers&#8221; before key postures or outside of the usual practice routine. These well intentioned recommendations rarely give the desired result, because they fail to take into account the non-linearity and lack of predictability inherent in complex living systems.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">If one develops tightness or pain in the shoulders during the course of their Ashtanga process, this may very well be a natural result of the deep and complex structural reorganization involving the network of relationships between all of the parts and systems of the human organism. The shoulders may develop tightness or discomfort due to other parts of the body opening up or strengthening in order to accommodate particular postures or movement patterns which have been added or deepened in the practice. Adding in extra shoulder stretches may temporarily relieve pain or stiffness in the shoulders, but the deeper and unpredictable costs of doing this may be to completely sabotage the intelligence of the underlying structural reorganization which is under process. The result will be that the pain or stiffness in the shoulders will simply re-emerge in a different form elsewhere in the system a few days later. One may end up feeling a pain in the back, or the hips, or the knees, and other postures or movements will then suffer. The ignorant practitioner or teacher will again apply symptomatic linear treatments to the afflicted part, in a never ending cycle of futile attempts to exert control over the direction of the evolution of a complex living system. I consider this an immature and erroneous way to approach the Ashtanga system and it&#8217;s influence on the human organism.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">An approach that represents matured wisdom and understanding of the dynamics of the evolution of complex systems, is to recognize that our practice &#8211; and especially adding new postures / elements to our practice &#8211; is simply a method of &#8220;disturbing&#8221; the complex balance of our internal structural dynamics. After consciously choosing to disturb our own internal balance through our practice, it is appropriate to step back, release our desire to control and direct, and allow the results to unfold as they will. The evolution of our bodies and nerves may not proceed in the way that we expect or desire them to, but if we respect the innate intelligence of our body to integrate the &#8220;disturbance&#8221; that we give it via the sequence of asanas, and we allow our bodily intelligence to integrate that disturbance into a new structural framework at its own pace, we will eventually emerge on the other side of the transformative process in a state that is stable and balanced.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The tendency to always move towards balance, stability, or homeostasis is another important feature of complex living systems. When the system is disturbed &#8211; i.e. new information, elements or features are added to it &#8211; the system will temporarily be pushed out of balance as it attempts to integrate the new input into its organization framework. The phenomena of being temporarily pushed out of balance accounts for the various stiffnesses, aches and pains, etc. that we experience when we add new asanas, or move deeper into existing asanas in our practice. The new asanas, or the experience of attaining new depth in an asana, &#8220;disturbs&#8221; our internal state of balance. The important thing to understand is that the choice of adding new features to our practice is where our ability to consciously influence the result ends. We are in control of whether we add new asanas or not, or whether we push ourselves to attain new depths in an asana. Beyond that initial choice, we have no control or ability to direct how this disturbance will influence or change our internal organizational patterns. The mature and wise practitioner will step back and simply allow the results to play out within themselves. It may takes days, weeks, or months for a new state of balance or internal homeostasis to manifest. Once this new balance or homeostasis is attained, it then becomes time to disturb the system again by adding more new postures, and then to again step back and allow the innate intelligence within us to sort things out. This is the cyclical process of self-evolution via the Ashtanga practice in a nutshell.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">A mature teacher understands this process and watches for the stages of integration and rebalancing in his students. When we add new asanas to a student&#8217;s practice, or we take a student deeper into asanas, it is normal to witness a period of destabilization in the student&#8217;s body and practice. A patient teacher understands that this destabilization must be given time and space to play out, and that it is not necessarily appropriate to attempt to &#8220;fix&#8221; any discomfort that the student may experience during this process. When a student reports discomfort or stiffness, my response is nearly always to acknowledge that this phenomena is &#8220;okay&#8221; to experience and to encourage the student to respect the process of integration that he is going through, rather than reactively attempting to apply quick fixes to make the discomfort or stiffness go away. There certainly are cases where we do need to make mechanical changes to the structure or form of the student&#8217;s practice, but usually this simply involves a scaling back of intensity in order to create space for the body to incorporate and accommodate the process of structural evolution.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">For one who has undertaken the commitment to a long term, daily Ashtanga practice, I feel that an understanding of the nature of complex systems is essential.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">When one experientially understands the process of disturbance &#8211; discomfort &#8211; rebalancing within oneself, a deep respect for the intelligence inherent in nature should develop. The innate self-organizing intelligence of the human organism is a manifestation of the intelligence of nature. Self-healing (rebalancing) is an inherent feature of natural intelligence, and once we experience this phenomena inside ourselves, we can more readily see it happening everywhere in nature. Have you ever watched how quickly a dog with an injured leg adapts to it&#8217;s condition? Or how a deeply disturbed ecosystem eventually finds a new balance, within which it can support life and flourish? Nearly every human attempt to engineer an ecosystem produces unintended and often negative consequences. Yet, if left alone, an ecosystem will always move towards health and homeostasis. The self-organizing intelligence inherent in nature is <em>vastly </em>superior to the rational, analytic intelligence of human beings. Undoubtedly, the rational human mind has invented and discovered wonderful things over our species evolutionary history. But none of these human inventions come close to the complexity and functionality of what nature itself has designed. Our experiments in tinkering with nature over the past few centuries have elucidated this inferiority. Unfortunately, our modern techo-industrial culture has not understood this important aspect of reality, and we continue to make devastating mistakes in our attempts to direct and control natural complex systems. Imagining that we can control the population growth cycle of a seasonal respiratory virus through totalitarianism is a recent example of this sort of mistake. This mistake is born from the same philosophical position that imagines it can hack the internal rebalancing process which arises through the Ashtanga practice.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">My approach, which I believe is in resonance with the laws and properties inherent in nature and natural intelligence, is one of surrender. I actively and consciously choose how and when to disturb things and then I surrender to allow the effects of that disturbance to play out. The wisdom lies in knowing when to step forward and exert our will to disturb something, and when to step back and surrender to allow nature to take its own course. This is the ultimate balance I strive for in my practice and in my life. The Ashtanga practice is a wonderful teacher which guides my experiential understanding of the laws of nature.</p>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #008000;">Part 6: Final Backbending Sequence</span></h3>
<p style="text-align: center;"><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/shFyl5EkeGg" width="560" height="315" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen"></iframe></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">00:00 &#8211; Urdhva Danurasana x 3</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">01:21 &#8211; Drop back and stand up x 3</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">02:20 &#8211; Tick Tocks x 3</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">03:00 &#8211; Vrichikasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">03:50 &#8211; Catching</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">04:55 &#8211; Paschimottanasana</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">In the Ashtanga system of asana, we practice the backbending sequence following the completion of whichever core series (Primary, Intermediate or Advanced) we have practiced on that day. Just as Surya Namaskar A &amp; B and the Standing Sequence are always practiced before the core series, the backbending sequence is always practiced afterwards. Backbending serves as an intense and somewhat dramatic conclusion to the deep work of the core series, before we move into the final finishing postures.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The structure of the backbending sequence remains the same, regardless of whether one is practicing Primary, Intermediate, or Advanced Series. The backbending sequence is gradually built up, and elements are added to it after certain milestones are reached in our progression through the various core series.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Urdhva Danurasana is usually added to the end of one’s core series practice at some point during the first half of Primary Series. Exactly which point in Primary Series the backbending is brought in at will vary depending on the unique strengths and weaknesses of each practitioner. By the time one has reached the Marichyasana sequence, it is usually appropriate to also be practicing Urdhva Danurasana. </p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The next element to be added to the backbending sequence is dropping back into and standing up from Urdhva Danurasana. This is usually initiated when a student is at or near the end of Primary Series, though it can be added earlier for students who are naturally proficient in backbending. It is important NOT to begin forcing drop backs with a student who is not ready to do so. There is significant risk and effort involved in working on dropping back and standing up prematurely &#8211; for both the student and teacher &#8211; with little benefit to be gained. Attempting to drop back and stand up before the necessary prerequisites are developed will often lead to excessive pain and inflammation, and potentially more serious injury for the practitioner. It is also very taxing for the teacher, who would have to bear the entire weight of the student, if the student is not able to at least partially support himself during the movement up and down.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">It is more appropriate and productive to begin cultivating the necessary skills to support dropping back and standing up while practicing Urdhva Danurasana on the ground. One should easily be able to straighten the arms in Urdhva Danurasana, and also to comfortably walk the hands in towards the feet. If one can straighten the arms and then walk the hands in at least half of the initial distance between the hands and the feet, then one likely has the requisite level of flexibility to attempt dropping back and standing up.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Strength and stability are also important factors to cultivate. Some practitioners are flexible, and can easily walk the hands in towards the feet, but are wobbly and cannot sustain a backbend without squirming around or coming down prematurely. I like to test a student’s stability in Urdhva Danurasana by placing my hands on the two iliac crests of the pelvis, and pressing down on them while asking the student to push up against my hands. If a student can easily meet my pressing downwards with an equal amount of counter pressure upwards, and can sustain this resistance for a significant length of time, then I usually become confident that the student has sufficient strength in both the arms and the legs to support the dropping back and standing up movement. Another good test of a student’s stability is whether he can follow a leisurely paced vinyasa count in the three backbends at the end of a led Primary Series class. If a student cannot hold Urdhva Danurasana for a somewhat slow count to five, three times in a row (without lowering to the ground) at the end of led Primary Series class, then that student is not ready to benefit from dropping back and standing up. I’ve witnessed students who are working on Intermediate Series, and yet cannot sustain the vinyasas count for Urdhva Danurasana at the end of a led Primary Series class. This is a recipe for disaster.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Standing up from and dropping back into Urdhva Danurasana without assistance is considered to be a prerequisite for beginning to learn Intermediate Series. Learning to drop back and stand up at the end of Primary Series ensures that a certain degree of flexibility, strength and control are developed for the backbending movement, and that the nerves become habituated to the pranic stimulation of the nervous system during the backbending sequence. If this prerequisite is firmly established while a student is still practicing Primary Series, the subsequent process of learning Intermediate Series will be smoother and less shocking to the body and nervous system.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Catching the legs with the hands can be added at any point in Primary or Intermediate Series as the final element of the backbending sequence. Needless to say, one must be able to drop back and stand up with ease, in order to begin catching. One should also be able to easily walk the hands all the way to the heels while in Urdhva Danurasana on the ground. The legs must be strong, stable and grounded in order to support the catching position safely. To test this, I first ask a student to walk his hands all the way to his heels while in Urdhva Danurasana on the ground, and then to keep the hands and feet firmly engaged with the ground while I push down on their iliac bones with my hands. If I can feel the student’s legs confidently engage to push back against my hands in this position, then I will usually feel comfortable to start working on catching with this student.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">It should be emphasized that adding catching as the final element should not be rushed, and some students may never be ready to do so. Catching is an extreme posture and should only be attempted by those who have put in the necessary effort and dedication in practice over a period of months or years to cultivate the necessary skills to attempt it safely. Usually, by the time one has fully integrated Kapotasana in Intermediate Series, it will be possible to begin working on catching.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Within the catching posture itself, there are also varying degrees of depth one can work at, and it is customary to gradually work a student’s hands higher up on the legs as their proficiency in the posture develops. One can hold the legs anywhere from the lower ankles to the lower thighs. In my last trip to Mysore, I experienced Sharathji putting my hands on my lower thighs, completely above my knee caps, for the first time. I discussed this experience in my <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/reflections-on-my-fifth-trip-in-mysore/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">article about my last trip in Mysore</a>. In this video of my home practice, my hands are on my upper calves, just below the knee caps.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The final two elements of the backbending sequence – tick tocks and Vrischkasana, are not added until one has completed Intermediate Series, and sometimes not until one has practiced at least a few postures into Advanced A Series. These movements are practiced after dropping back and standing up, and before catching. They both add deeper elements of strength, co-ordination and flexibility. Vrischkasana was the most difficult element of the backbending sequence for me to develop, and it was only in January 2021 that I was able to fully place the entirety of my feet on my head, with my heels pressed together. When this video was filmed – in September 2020 – I could touch my head with my toes, but not with the bottom part of my feet.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">I practice the full backbending sequence as described above &#8211; and as shown in the video &#8211; on the three or four days (Mondays &#8211; Thursdays) that I practice Advanced Series. On Sundays, when I practice Intermediate Series, my backbending consists of Urdhva Danurasana, drop backs, and then low catching at the ankles (no tick tocks, Vrischkasana or higher catching). On Fridays, when I practice Primary Series, my backbending consists of three Urdhva Danurasana on the ground, followed by Chakrasana and Paschimottanasana, as in a traditional led Primary Series class. I don&#8217;t practice the other elements of backbending on Fridays. </p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">It is important for practitioners to understand that there is a vinyasa count for the entire backbending sequence. The sequence should be practiced fluidly and seamlessly, in co-ordination with the breath, according to the vinyasa count. It is natural to need a few extra breaths to prepare for Urdhva Danurasana, and perhaps in between each of the different elements of the backbending sequence. In the video, you can see that I do take some extra breaths in between each element of the sequence.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">As a teacher, I often see students abandon the vinyasa method completely when they practice the backbending sequence. It is common to see students lying on their mat for long periods of time before, or in between repetitions of Urdhva Danurasana, or adding in extra stretches to help prepare, etc. I have seen students literally take 20 minutes to complete three Urdhva Danurasana on the ground, and just as long to complete three drop backs. The backbending sequence should be practiced with the same focused flow of body and breath as one practices the core series. It should take no longer than a few minutes to practice the full backbending sequence. In my video, it is done in six minutes from start to finish, including nearly 1/3 of that time spent in Paschimottanasana. </p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">A daily practice of the Ashtanga system of asana is difficult to maintain, especially when one does not have the support of a teacher and shala. Digging deeply into oneself and finding the willpower and motivation to persist in completing one&#8217;s practice to the best of one&#8217;s ability &#8211; each and every day &#8211; is the field where significant growth, evolution and progress arises from. It is only through cultivating the ability to maintain a strong and consistent personal practice in the face of adversity, that one can expect to realize one&#8217;s full potential. </p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">As a teacher based in Bali, I work predominantly with visiting students who practice with me for a temporary duration of time. There are a number of students who I see once or twice per year, for periods of time ranging from a few weeks to a few months. Of these returning students, there are three basic types. One type of student practices deeply, working at their edge consistently, year round, whether they are practicing in my shala, or whether they are elsewhere working on their own or with another teacher. When this type of student visits me, I can clearly see the progress that has been made in their practice during the time period that they have been away from Bali. A second type of student practices deeply when they are in my shala, but when they are elsewhere, they maintain only a basic or rudimentary level of practice. When this type of student visits me, it is usually as if they are picking up where they left of on their previous visit with me. There has not been any progress during the time they were elsewhere, but there has also not been regress. The third type of student practices deeply when they are in my shala, but when they are elsewhere, they stop practicing altogether, or they practice only sporadically. This type of student usually regresses between trips to practice with me, and when they return it takes a few weeks or a few months of practice, just to attain to the same level they were at when they left at the end of their previous trip.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">All students are welcome at my shala, whether they are consistent practitioners or not. I make the above distinctions to outline the fact that continuous application of effort to encounter one&#8217;s edge is necessary to make deep and long lasting progress in the Ashtanga system. Furthermore, cultivating the ability to find one&#8217;s edge when one is alone, with fewer external motivating factors then one would have in a shala, brings a certain level of depth and self-understanding that cannot be found when practicing in a shala with a teacher.  This is not easy to do, and the reality is that many Ashtanga teachers do not practice deeply themselves. We all experience situations where, for one reason or another, it becomes necessary to back off from the intensity of our practice for a period of time. There is however, a big difference between taking a temporary respite from stronger practice, and simply lacking the motivation or willpower to engage in deep practice at all. </p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">My practice is not effortless, and I struggle nearly every day. Awakening for practice at a time of the night when some people are just going to bed is difficult. Stepping onto my mat in those dark hours of the morning, regardless of how I feel, requires strength of will. More often than not, I begin my practice while being assailed by thoughts such as &#8220;there is no way I can do this today.&#8221; I always give myself an out, by telling myself that if things end up going very badly in my practice, I will revert to &#8220;only Primary&#8221; or cut my practice short regardless of which series I am practicing on that day. More than 99 percent of the time, I do end up completing my intended practice for that day, and I almost always feel great at the end of my practice. The consistency of this outcome helps to generate the motivation to begin practice each morning. The process of dropping into my embodied experience in each moment, each vinyasa and each breath &#8211; and attempting to confine my awareness to each of these moments &#8211; is key. When one learns how to be fully present and absorbed within each posture and within each breath, it becomes natural to work deeply at one&#8217;s edge in each vinyasa and in each posture, for the duration of one&#8217;s entire practice, on each and every morning. This is an exercise in sustained embodied focus and concentration.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Success in the endeavor of maintaining a strong daily practice over a long period of time is empowering. One gains familiarity with the process of overcoming the unique and idiosyncratic obstacles that one encounters within oneself. Self empowerment is one of the main benefits of long term practice of the Ashtanga system. A system which necessitates reliance on external forces or authorities to derive benefit leads to disempowerment and enslavement. A system which necessitates the cultivation of self-motivation and self-reliance leads to self empowerment and freedom. The main difference between a true teacher and a predatory leader is that the former attempts to transmit independence and self-reliance through their teachings, while the latter manipulates their students into co-dependence and enslavement. </p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">At present, in human societies all over the planet, there are significant forces at work which are acting to disempower people. There are large scale attempts to coerce people into surrendering their autonomy and freedom and to outsource the responsibility for their own health and well-being to external authorities. I&#8217;ll refrain from a digression into global politics, but I will conclude by emphatically stating that I find the self-empowering nature of my personal practice to be more important than ever under the present conditions which persist in human society.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">— — —</p>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/morning-class-schedule/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Daily Mysore practice with Iain in Ubud, Bali</a></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/ashtanga-immersion-course/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Ashtanga Immersion courses with Iain in Ubud, Bali</a></h3></p>
</div></div></div></div></div><p>The post <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/the-energetic-dynamics-of-ashtanga-advanced-a-iain-grysak/">The Energetic Dynamics of Ashtanga Advanced A (Third Series) &#8211; Video and Discussion by Iain Grysak</a> appeared first on <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com">Spacious Yoga</a>.</p>
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		<title>The Role of Thinking in Ashtanga Yoga Practice &#8211; A Conversation between Andy Davis and Iain Grysak</title>
		<link>https://spaciousyoga.com/the-role-of-thinking-in-ashtanga-yoga-practice/</link>
					<comments>https://spaciousyoga.com/the-role-of-thinking-in-ashtanga-yoga-practice/#comments</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Iain Grysak]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Fri, 24 Jan 2020 13:41:06 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Ashtanga Yoga]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://spaciousyoga.com/?p=2068</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>A few months ago, I engaged in an email discussion with Andy Davis, Associate Professor of Philosophy at Belmont University in Nashville, Tennessee and an Ashtanga practitioner. We explored the subject of thinking during asana practice. Many practitioners hold the erroneous assumption that the goal of yoga and meditation practice is to stop thinking.  [...]</p>
<p>The post <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/the-role-of-thinking-in-ashtanga-yoga-practice/">The Role of Thinking in Ashtanga Yoga Practice &#8211; A Conversation between Andy Davis and Iain Grysak</a> appeared first on <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com">Spacious Yoga</a>.</p>
]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><div class="fusion-fullwidth fullwidth-box fusion-builder-row-2 hundred-percent-fullwidth non-hundred-percent-height-scrolling" style="--awb-border-radius-top-left:0px;--awb-border-radius-top-right:0px;--awb-border-radius-bottom-right:0px;--awb-border-radius-bottom-left:0px;--awb-padding-top:0px;--awb-padding-right:0px;--awb-padding-bottom:0px;--awb-padding-left:0px;--awb-flex-wrap:wrap;" ><div class="fusion-builder-row fusion-row"><div class="fusion-layout-column fusion_builder_column fusion-builder-column-1 fusion_builder_column_1_1 1_1 fusion-one-full fusion-column-first fusion-column-last" style="--awb-bg-size:cover;"><div class="fusion-column-wrapper fusion-column-has-shadow fusion-flex-column-wrapper-legacy"><div class="fusion-text fusion-text-2"><p style="text-align: justify;">A few months ago, I engaged in an email discussion with Andy Davis, Associate Professor of Philosophy at Belmont University in Nashville, Tennessee and an Ashtanga practitioner. We explored the subject of thinking during asana practice. Many practitioners hold the erroneous assumption that the goal of yoga and meditation practice is to stop thinking. Andy and I discussed this assumption and some of my alternative viewpoints based on reactivity:</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> I’m wondering about the stray thoughts I have during practice. By ‘stray thoughts,’ I mean thoughts not directly related to the asana at hand. Yoga teachers often define or describe asana practice in relation to “<i>citta vrtti nirodha” [cessation of the fluctuations of consciousness]</i>, which is the stated goal of Patanjali Yoga. On one understanding of<i> citta vrtti nirodha</i>, all my stray thoughts are signs of deficient absorption in what I am doing. But in my experience, sometimes stray thoughts seem to get in the way of practice and sometimes they don’t. I’d like to ask you some questions about this.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;">How would you describe the general relationship between thinking and asana practice? Is practice a form of thinking? Is it opposed to thinking?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> I suppose the answer to this would depend on a precise definition of “thinking”. For example, can we consider actions and responses in movements of the physical body as a form of “thought”?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The abstract, disembodied process of mental conceptualizing, which we commonly refer to as “thought”, must have gradually developed over time in our homo sapiens ancestors and our other ancestral species. What were the experiential precursors to the abstracted and disembodied thought processes which characterize much of our lived experience today? Can we still feel<i> </i>these sorts of ancestral precursors to thought at an organic, embodied level, where the boundaries between physiology and psychology become blurred? Can we refer to these phenomena as “thinking”? Can we/should we think in this way during our asana practice?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">If you prefer to stick to a definition of thinking as something that is inherently disembodied and abstracted from our phenomenal level of experience, then I suggest that asana practice is a method through which we use a formulaic set of conditions to objectively observe whatever habitual patterns (samskaras) tend to manifest within those conditions. If abstract thinking is one of those patterns which arises, then we accept and observe that. So, I wouldn’t say asana practice is biased either towards or against this form of thinking.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> One type of abstract thought is what is sometimes called the ‘inner monologue’ or ego-based narration of past and future events. Will Johnson suggests that when we are fully present in our lived, ongoing sensations, the “inner monologue” shuts off completely (<i>Aligned Relaxed Resilient</i> pp. 19-20). Should we work to diminish this form of thinking?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> In general, I would say that physical practices which promote embodied concentration within a limited field of awareness will &#8211; over a long period of continuous practice &#8211; tend to reduce the degree of <i>unnecessary or superfluous </i>thinking. Having the inner monologue “shut off completely” is a relatively rare phenomena, which represents a very deep form of concentration that leads into the first stages of samadhi. This is unlikely to be experienced by most practitioners &#8211; even those who have engaged deeply with their practice for many years. To suggest that this should be the case would be discouraging to the vast majority of people, who are likely experiencing the opposite of this form of &#8220;cessation&#8221;.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Superfluous or unnecessary thought tends to be based on reactivity. The phenomena of having certain thought loops and themes which we revisit again and again &#8211; and that we can’t let go of &#8211; tends to be caused by a deeper reactive pattern (samskara) which is playing out on the surface of our conscious awareness. A long term practitioner should train himself to concentrate on &#8211; and ideally become absorbed within &#8211; the experience of sensation and feeling in body and breath for the duration of his daily practice. If this absorption within embodied experience is coupled with the intention of objective (non-reactive) awareness, the reactive samskara patterns will become weaker, as will the persistence of superfluous or excessive thought.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Is the goal to eliminate thought completely? No. Thought is useful, and essential to function in the human world today. I feel that practice can help us to avoid falling into the trap of reacting to our thoughts, and building those reactions up into grooves and loops which we become trapped in. But I don’t feel that practice should be viewed as an attempt to eliminate thought.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> I find your emphasis on reactivity helpful. Instead of performing a classification of thoughts, sorting them into categories of good and bad, helpful or harmful, we might attend to the manner in which we take up the thoughts. An otherwise ‘good’ thought can become obsessive. Even something that begins as embodied awareness can become a reactive loop. Sometimes the concern for alignment in a pose can become a loop that sucks attention away from the lived conditions of the body into an abstract, ideal body. I’ve certainly aggravated my body by pushing a pose to the place it was yesterday, rather than the place it wants to go to today, using an abstract marker like whether my chin touches here or there on my leg. By contrast, a thought about something very unyogic can arise and dissipate without any problematic reactivity. Does the awareness or observation of a reactive loop as such naturally diminish or dissolve it over time or have you found additional steps necessary?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> The cultivation of equanimity is central to the teaching of the Buddha, and also plays a role in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. “Upekkha/Upeksha” is the term in Pali/Sanskrit which refers to this quality of non-reactiveness. It does requires some degree of effort and awareness to cultivate. In fact, cultivating increased sensitivity without a corresponding emphasis on cultivating equanimity can be detrimental, as reactiveness will naturally tend to increase with sensitivity. Some Ashtanga practitioners become highly sensitized as a result of their embodied concentration in the energetically stimulating practice. This sensitization can lead to emotional and energetic imbalance if they have not cultivated an ability to experience their increased sensitivity in a relatively non-reactive way.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Attempting to not to react to a thought is slippery. In the Vipassana meditation technique, it is understood that the locus of sensation/feeling on the body is where reaction actually takes place. We may feel like we are reacting to a thought, or an emotion, or an external object, but what we often fail to realize is that with every experience that we have, there is a corresponding sensation and feeling in the body. Samskara is formed through reaction to this sensation/feeling on the body. So, a central part of the Vipassana technique is the conscious attempt to decrease reactivity towards sensation on the body. I apply this technique to all of my practices, including asana and pranayama, and I feel it is extremely important to develop.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">For powerful and deeply rooted samaskaras, it can take months or years of cultivating non-reactivity before we start to feel their power and influence over our lives begin to diminish. With long term and regular cultivation of increased embodied sensitivity and non-reactivity towards that sensitivity, we should experience that the influence of our samskaras gradually diminishes over time.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> Are there kinds of thoughts (or ways of having them) that you have found to be beneficial to asana practice?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> Any thought pattern which arises during asana practice creates the potential for a reactive tendency or samskara pattern to manifest. The point of asana practice is to encounter these reactive patterns and become more consciously aware of them, so that we can learn to work with them more effectively. One could argue that <i>any </i>thought pattern which arises is beneficial, because it gives us the opportunity to encounter and potentially transform a habit, which is certainly more beneficial than ignoring or repressing it.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The question becomes: What do we <i>do </i>once that thought pattern arises in our practice? Do we allow it to distract us from the experience of being absorbed in embodied sensation? Or, can we allow the thought to play itself out in the background with minimal disturbance to our process of embodied absorption in the process of asana? The second option is the field where authentic transformation can take place.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> Are there thoughts (or ways of having them) that you have found to be obstacles to asana practice?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> Being extensively trained in Buddhist practices, I see all practice as a method of observing “reality as it is”. Any thoughts which naturally arise during our practice are helpful, as they represent some tendency that we have. In other words, by observing those thoughts which naturally arise, we are observing a natural part of who and what we are &#8211; whether we like that part of who and what we are, or not.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">What can be contradictory &#8211; and even dangerous &#8211; to mix with the above described process are thoughts which are intentionally conjured up, because we feel it may be good for us to try to think in a certain way. If we are “trying to think” certain things, or even “trying not to think at all”, then we are not observing ourselves naturally, and we often end up repressing or avoiding what is actually there. We hide the reality as it is with a “suggestion”. I consider this to be inauthentic practice. Unfortunately, this process is widely taught and promoted in the name of “spirituality”.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> A thought which is natural to me might be forced for you and vice versa. This suggests that teaching yoga is very difficult because the likely result of a specific teaching is that the student will “try” to have a different practice than he naturally has, i.e. he will try to have a practice that looks like the teaching. The problem with ‘spirituality’ you identify also seems to be a problem with teaching more generally. By attending to the teacher’s insight rather than our own, we get to avoid ourselves and believe that we have found our true selves at the same time!</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> Absolutely. Accepting any form of dogma without having experienced the truth of it ourselves &#8211; at the embodied, sensation/feeling based level &#8211; is fallacious. I feel the main role of a teacher should be to train people how to experience and feel things for themselves.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> Do you take specific precautions to reduce certain kinds of stimulus or certain kinds of thoughts during asana practice?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> I think it is helpful to practice in a space that is as neutral as possible. A neutral environment will promote concentration and the lack of strong stimulus will promote natural arising of samskara patterns which are normally hidden in the deeper layers of our subconscious.</p>
<p class="BodyA" style="text-indent: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> Can you say a bit more about what you mean by “neutral” here?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> By neutral, I mean attempting to remove stimulus which promote reactivity. For most people, that would mean things such as one’s phone, or any external object which will tend to draw one’s attention away from being present with embodied breath and sensation. In places like Southeast Asia, it is common to find yoga shalas in stunning beachfront locations. I find this distracting. A shala should be simple, and mostly enclosed by walls. It should be a protective “container” which keeps one&#8217;s awareness and energy within the room, and ideally within one’s own body and breath. Even excessive instruction from or interaction with a teacher can take one’s attention away from being present with embodied sensation and breath. A good teacher should also strive to be “neutral” in their presence.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> Have you found that there are separable ‘stages’ of awareness (e.g. like the 4 jnanas of Buddhism or Patanjali’s Dharana-Dhyana-Samadhi) that one climbs like a ladder as the asana practice deepens?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> Not really. I don’t feel that there is a particular end goal to yoga practice and therefore, I don’t feel there is any form of linear path to reach a goal. All eight of Patanjali’s limbs can and should be experienced together. I don’t really consider them to be separate things. They all support and loop back into one another and should not be thought of as sequential or linear. The ability to observe oneself and one’s own samskara patterns with less reactivity will gradually develop over time, but this manifests within all forms of consciousness and awareness, from the mundane to the sublime.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> Do you have advice for students who find themselves easily distracted by stray thoughts of such a powerful nature that they derail practice or cause them to lose their place in the rhythm of the practice?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> This is the power and beauty of the vinyasa count. If we hold ourselves accountable to “staying with the count”, we will be much less likely to be pulled completely out of our embodied experience of practice by distracting thoughts. When one forces oneself to stay with the count, one must necessarily pay more attention to the breath. This will lead to a deeper phenomenal experience of the sound and sensation of breath and body. As a teacher, this is the main thing I look for when assessing the maturity of a practitioner. Is a student able to remain absorbed in the vinyasa count &#8211; and therefore absorbed within themselves for the duration of their practice? Or, are they constantly slipping out of that flow (flow of body and breath and flow of concentration) and losing their focus? I see beginners doing half primary or less who are very focused and absorbed in the vinyasa count and within themselves. I see long term practitioners doing intermediate or advanced series who seem to give no importance at all to the vinyasa count and are constantly distracting themselves with superfluous movements, props, and unnecessary fidgeting. They seem to be doing everything that they can to avoid their phenomenal experience of the practice. It is clear to me which practitioners are experiencing the deeper benefits of working with the unique tool of embodied absorption within the flow of the vinyasa count. This has little to do with which postures or series they are practicing.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">A group Mysore class is usually conducive to this process. A good Mysore style teacher will promote an atmosphere which is conducive to concentration and accountability towards the vinyasas count. The main benefit of a once or twice a week led class is also to teach students how to be accountable to the vinyasa count.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">If one is unable to practice in a Mysore class, then creating a neutral space at home &#8211; where external distractions which might tempt one to drift away from the essence of practice are kept out of sight and out of reach &#8211; is helpful.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> This makes me wonder about led classes. They would certainly encourage accountability to the vinyasa count, but they can also pull the practitioner away from the timing of his or her own breath. I have experienced them as mixed blessings, helping me focus in some regards while disrupting my focus in others. What role do you think led classes play in the process of developing a non-reactive, embodied awareness?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> Led classes can be tricky in the way you described. We are often forced to move in a way that is not in harmony with our natural rate of breathing or counting. But, this can also be a good thing. We can become attached to the habits we develop in Mysore style practice, and unwilling to move in a different way. The led class shakes up these attachments (reactions) by forcing us to let go of our own particular pace and habitual way of moving through the sequence. If we allow ourselves to be open to the insights that this brings, it can then have a profound effect on how we practice Mysore style. Practicing led primary series and led intermediate series with Sharath Jois profoundly influences the way that I move through the vinyasa count in my own independent practice. When I am practicing on my own, I don&#8217;t necessarily move at the same pace that Sharathji uses in the led classes, but I find that I do hold myself much more accountable to the integrity of the vinyasa count due to the influence of his led classes. As a teacher, I have observed that students who do not regularly experience led classes often have something missing from their practice, which is connected to the integrity of the vinyasa count.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> For counterpoint: do you think some students are, in fact, not thinking enough during practice?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> There are practitioners who are able to stay within the framework of the vinyasa count effectively, but who are not absorbed in concentration on their internal experience, because they are coasting on autopilot. A teacher can sense this when nothing about the student’s practice ever changes &#8211; even after a long period of time. There is no inquiry, no receptivity to information that is coming from the embodied experience of practice. Practice should promote evolution of the self, and this can only happen when we are paying attention to the information we receive in the form of embodied sensation. Subtle and gross changes within the structure of one’s practice should occur over time if one is paying attention to feedback and “thinking” about it. This form of thinking is similar to what I described in my answer your first question. It is as much a property of the responses of the body to its environment, as it is an abstract, disembodied process.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> Do you think there is tension between embodiment and some forms of thinking or is all thinking part of the body and therefore part of being embodied?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> Over tens of thousands of years, we have manufactured a human world of conceptual abstraction, which has nothing at all to do with the physical reality of rocks, wind, water, trees, animal bodies, etc. Most modern humans spend most of their hours of conscious awareness immersed within this abstract, conceptual human made world. We treat it as if it has an objective reality of its own, independent of humans. As human society becomes more complex, our absorption within the abstract, conceptual human world seems to increase, to the point where it feels more real than the physical world of rocks, trees, wind, water, and animal bodies. This is largely why our planet earth is in such a critically unhealthy condition today.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The interesting thing is that if all the humans died tomorrow, the abstract, conceptual human world would vanish along with us. It has no objective existence of its own, and it means nothing to the rocks, wind, trees, water, and animal bodies. The reality of the abstract, conceptual human world of thinking and thought is entirely dependent on the world of animal bodies. But, the reality of animal bodies, rocks, wind, water, etc, is not dependent at all on the abstract conceptual world of human thought. It is unfortunate that the legacy of Descartes’ fallacy of dualism is so strong and enduring. Mind and matter are inseparable and any distinction between them is illusory. I feel that the “union” of yoga is to remove the illusion of separation between body and mind. We can experience all thought in an embodied state, and we are much less likely to become lost or deluded by our thoughts when they are grounded in conscious, phenomenal, embodied experience. Paying more attention to the rocks, water, wind, trees and animal bodies can help with this.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> If we reject dualism, what does it mean to say that a certain sort of thinking is ‘disembodied’ or ‘abstract’ activity? You seem to identify some human activities as natural and others as unnatural or as out of sync. Can you say more about this and how you aren’t suggesting some form of nature/culture dualism that follows from a body/mind dualism?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> I don’t think nature and culture are separable, just as I don’t think body and mind are separable. Culture is an inherent part of human nature. We are social creatures and culture simply represents our way of social interaction, just as it does for other social animals such as primates, wolves, ants, etc. I think the “out of sync” problem refers to an overemphasis on social interaction within our own species, and specifically through our abstract ideas. We have narrowed the sphere of our social interactions to such an extent that we have almost completely fallen out of awareness of our relationship with all that is more-than-human. We forget that our environment has shaped who and what we are over millions of years of biological evolution. Our environment is part and parcel of being human (this is also why I think the idea of colonizing other planets is a form of madness). The agricultural, industrial and technological revolutions have progressively diminished our awareness of this fact, to the extent that we are now destroying our environment and our heritage. We are thus losing touch with and destroying an integral aspect of who and what we are as a species. A person who cuts off his own legs would be considered insane, yet this is essentially identical in nature to what we are doing by destroying all of the other species and aspects of the more-than-human world which we are structurally coupled to. This is the fundamental reason for the “void” and lack of meaning that pervades so much of modern human culture and society, and the necessity of inventing religion as a means to anesthetize the discomfort of that void. We have abandoned something that has accompanied us for millions of years. I don’t think it is a matter of nature/culture dualism, I think it is more of a lack of inclusiveness of the sphere of our ancestral social interactions with the more-than-human world within our &#8220;culture&#8221;.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> Would you describe bandha as necessarily bringing with it a certain kind of focus, attention or equilibrium of thought or is it possible to have ‘aligned fluidity’ in the body without having it throughout the fields of attention and thought?</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain:</strong> Embodiment and intuitive phenomenal awareness are necessary conditions for a true experience of bandha. It can be difficult to teach this concept to students who are fixated on intellectual, biomechanical analysis of what constitutes bandha. Bandha is a deeply felt continuity between self and environment, where the borders between where one ends and the other begins becomes blurred. This certainly requires a degree of concentration and focus. The illusion of discontinuity between body and mind must be yoked for the illusion of discontinuity between self and environment to be yoked. So, I would say that a true experience of bandha takes the union of body and mind one step further by creating a fluid union between body, mind, and environment (see my article “<a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/the-tree-of-bandha/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">The Tree of Bandha</a>&#8221; for an in depth discussion of this).</p>
<p style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: justify;"><strong>Andy:</strong> I’d like to thank you for taking the time to explore these questions. As I have continued my practice, I have found your responses helped guide me away from self-criticism that perpetuated reactive thought patterns. It has been a valuable discussion for me.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Iain: </strong>Thank you. Your questions are a valuable opportunity for me to examine and clarify my own beliefs and biases. I look forward to the next discussion.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">— — —</p>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/ashtanga-vinyasa-full-immersion/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Ashtanga Immersion courses with Iain in Ubud, Bali</a></h3>
<h3 style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/morning-class-schedule/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Daily Mysore practice with Iain in Ubud, Bali</a></h3>
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<p>The post <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/the-role-of-thinking-in-ashtanga-yoga-practice/">The Role of Thinking in Ashtanga Yoga Practice &#8211; A Conversation between Andy Davis and Iain Grysak</a> appeared first on <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com">Spacious Yoga</a>.</p>
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		<title>Reflections on the new shala and my fifth trip of practice in Mysore with Sharath Jois &#8211; by Iain Grysak</title>
		<link>https://spaciousyoga.com/reflections-on-my-fifth-trip-in-mysore/</link>
					<comments>https://spaciousyoga.com/reflections-on-my-fifth-trip-in-mysore/#comments</comments>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Iain Grysak]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Sat, 28 Dec 2019 07:24:26 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Ashtanga Yoga]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://spaciousyoga.com/?p=2057</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>I recently completed my fifth trip of practice with Sharath Jois in Mysore, India. It’s been a few trips since I wrote an anecdotal account of my experiences in Mysore. After my preceding two trips, I didn’t have much that was new to say about Mysore or practice with Sharathji, but this trip felt different.  [...]</p>
<p>The post <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/reflections-on-my-fifth-trip-in-mysore/">Reflections on the new shala and my fifth trip of practice in Mysore with Sharath Jois &#8211; by Iain Grysak</a> appeared first on <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com">Spacious Yoga</a>.</p>
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										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><div class="fusion-fullwidth fullwidth-box fusion-builder-row-3 hundred-percent-fullwidth non-hundred-percent-height-scrolling" style="--awb-border-radius-top-left:0px;--awb-border-radius-top-right:0px;--awb-border-radius-bottom-right:0px;--awb-border-radius-bottom-left:0px;--awb-padding-top:0px;--awb-padding-right:30px;--awb-padding-bottom:0px;--awb-padding-left:0px;--awb-flex-wrap:wrap;" ><div class="fusion-builder-row fusion-row"><div class="fusion-layout-column fusion_builder_column fusion-builder-column-2 fusion_builder_column_1_1 1_1 fusion-one-full fusion-column-first fusion-column-last" style="--awb-bg-size:cover;--awb-margin-bottom:0px;"><div class="fusion-column-wrapper fusion-flex-column-wrapper-legacy"><div class="fusion-text fusion-text-3"><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I recently completed my fifth trip of practice with Sharath Jois in Mysore, India. It’s been a few trips since I wrote an anecdotal account of my experiences in Mysore. After my preceding two trips, I didn’t have much that was new to say about Mysore or practice with Sharathji, but this trip felt different. I had the opportunity to be in the first batch of students who practiced the full schedule in the new shala that Sharathji has recently opened. Something about this trip felt special for me, not just in terms of being part of the inauguration of the new shala, but also in the context of personal development. It was my best trip so far and I feel it is appropriate to share some of that positivity, especially in light of all the negative sentiment that has been propagated by a disgruntled minority of the Ashtanga community on social media over the past year or two.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The new shala is located approximately 10 km outside of Gokulam. Sharathji began conducting led classes there in the previous practice session—which I did not attend—but this was the first session where the full schedule of classes was held at the new shala. When it was announced that all of the classes would be held there, I was not looking forward to the daily commute for practice. On previous trips, I enjoyed the fact that all of the facilities we need as students, including accommodation, decent restaurants and shops have all been developed in Gokulam. One could stay close to the shala in Gokulam, without the need to travel further than walking distance for most of one’s daily needs. It was always pleasant to stroll to the shala on foot in the early hours of the morning and I wasn’t very keen about a 10 km scooter drive for practice.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The drive took 10–15 minutes in the early morning hours, which are mostly traffic free. I drive faster than most people, as I am accustomed to a similar scooter commute from my home to the shala where I have taught in Ubud, Bali for the past five years. The roads on the main route from Gokulam to the new shala are all in decent condition and it only took a few days for me to get used to the drive. It wouldn’t be possible to have a shala of the size of the new one in the Gokulam area, and it quickly became apparent that the drive-in was an acceptable trade-off for the benefits we experienced at the new shala.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The most notable thing about the new shala is its size. It is very large and can easily accommodate all 300 students for a led class. It seems to have previously been some sort of warehouse. A nice floor has been installed, which is similar to the floor that was installed at the old shala in Gokulam a few years ago. The property surrounding the shala is also sizable and the folks from Depth N Green restaurant have set up a refreshment and snack stall in an adjacent side building. The coconut guy has also set up there during practice hours.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The interior of the shala is well organized. There is a central stage on the East side, where Sharathji sits, and there are 76 mats spaces, individually marked out by construction tape, in front of the stage. The mat spaces are of ample size and in total, the 76 mat spaces take up approximately one third of the total floor space of the shala. Tall students, like myself, are requested to practice in the back two rows. I ended up claiming the back right corner spot, which I enjoyed quite a bit. It gave me even more room with no one on my right side or behind me.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">There is a large space between the main entrance on the North side and the marked mat spaces. On the South side of the mat spaces, there are a few removable dividers, which section off a good-sized space for finishing postures. The changing rooms lie on the Southern most end of the shala.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Everything was impressively organized, especially considering this was the first run of a very sizable move of everything into a new space. The system for Mysore classes ran smoothly. Each new shift would wait outside the main doors, and eventually be brought in all at once to sit in the back right corner, where they would wait to be called to the vacant spaces one by one, as each practicing student finished and moved to the finishing area. As usual, I was on the first shift, which officially began at 5:30 a.m. &#8211; one hour later than it did in the old shala. Arrival was very casual. The doors would open at 4:45 a.m. and I usually arrived on my bike right about that time. We would all walk in and set up without any rush or fuss and begin practicing. Sharathji would come out of his office at 5:30 for the opening mantra.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Led classes were also smooth and it was enjoyable to practice with everyone together. All 300 students easily fit in the shala space, without any feeling of being crowded. Hence, there were no long line-ups or jostling for spaces like there was in the old shala. Led primary series began at 6:30 a.m.. I don’t know what time the door was opened for led class, but I would usually arrive between 5:45 and 6 a.m., and about one third of the students would already be in the room and setting up. Conference would be held after led primary class, with a 30 minute break in between. On Mondays, led intermediate was at 8:15 a.m., after led primary series finished.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">One of the main benefits that I enjoyed in the new shala was the feeling of more air and specifically more oxygen in the room. While I enjoyed the intimate intensity of the old shala, I always found the air to be depleted of oxygen, and I would tire easily at the end of my long practice. I always felt that the oxygen levels in the old shala were somewhat akin to practicing at 3000+ meters in elevation (which I have plenty of experience with), except one didn’t ever get a chance to acclimatize to the lower oxygen content because the rest of the day outside of the shala was spent at normal oxygen levels. At the new shala, this was not an issue at all. The space is so large and the ceilings so high, that even when all 300 students were practicing at once in the led classes, the space felt airy and the oxygen levels felt normal. I immediately noticed the difference in my stamina, and I did not experience oxygen-related fatigue, even though my practice grew to the longest and most intense level it has ever been in Mysore.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Finishing was also very relaxed. There was always space for everyone to finish, and no sense of having to rush through finishing postures to make way for the next batch of people that needed to finish. We were welcome to take a long relaxation at the end, which I am accustomed to doing.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">During October and November, the temperature in the shala was near perfect on the first shift of Mysore-style classes and for led primary series class. Some people complained that it was too cold, and it certainly was colder than it was in the old shala in Gokulam. This wasn’t an issue for me, as I am used to practicing in the chilly early morning hours at home in Bali. I don’t rely on external heat to open my body up, and I usually feel better practicing in a slightly chilly environment than I do in excessive heat. Even in these slightly cooler conditions on the first shift, I was always sweating heavily by the end of my practice. I can imagine how it might get uncomfortably cold in the colder months of December and January, however. For led intermediate at 8:15 a.m. and also for a conference at approximately the same time on Saturdays, it felt uncomfortably hot in the warmer month of October. Once the morning sun hit the roof of the shala, things heated up very quickly. Apparently, a better ventilation system is one of the next projects to be implemented, so we should see this improve by next season. The climate in Mysore cools down in November, so the heat was never an issue towards the end of my trip, even during led intermediate and conference.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">During the first week or two of practice, I felt there was an intimacy and certain energy that was missing in the new shala. The place felt too big and “cold” energetically, but this perception shifted by the time we had all been practicing together in the space for two weeks. It takes time for energy to accumulate in any new space, and this was no exception. By the second half of the first month, I felt perfectly at home and comfortable in the new shala, and this feeling was reflected in my practice experience. No doubt the energy will continue to build in the room as different batches of students develop their practices there.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Sharathji himself was very sharp and seemed to be in a positive and vibrant mood for the duration of the two months. In the old shala, I believe we had 50–60 students practicing at a time for Mysore classes, so the numbers were only slightly increased here at 76 students. In the old shala we had 2–3 assistants at any given time for Mysore classes, and here we had 5–6 assistants. There was never any waiting for postures like <em>Supta Vajrasana</em> or for catching, as someone was always close by and ready to help. Sharathji was attentive and the increase in student numbers did not seem to affect his ability to monitor everyone’s practice. I certainly received ample attention from him. Other students that I spoke to felt the same in this respect.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">For Sharathji himself, I feel this move made the teaching process more sustainable. I always marveled at the amount of work he did at the old shala, teaching from 4 a.m. to 11 a.m. for Mysore practice and teaching three led classes in succession on the led class days. Though he did it extremely competently, and I cannot think of any other living human being who could have done so, it also seemed like it would not be sustainable for him in the long run. He still has to work extremely hard in the new shala, but his work hours are slightly reduced, with a later start time in the mornings, and only one led class on Saturdays and two on Mondays. I hope he feels like it is something that he can continue to do, so that we can continue to benefit from his teaching for years to come. He certainly seemed to feel good about the move, and we all benefited from that positivity.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Overall, the energy and mood in the shala were high. I am a hermit by nature, and don’t socialize very much in Mysore, so I can’t claim to have access to a very wide sampling of perspectives from other students, but all of the people that I did talk to shared similar opinions. We all enjoyed practice in the new shala and felt like we had an extremely positive experience there. The move seems to have been beneficial for both Sharathji and for the students.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The past one to two years have seen a certain amount of negativity directed towards Sharathji on social media. I have no interest in publicly commenting on the specific issues that have been brought up, except to say that I fully understand and support the changes that Sharathji has made. His actions all make complete sense to me. As a trained psychologist and Buddhist, I have found it extremely interesting to witness the vehement negativity in the accusations that some people have publicly leveled against Sharathji. A teacher of any authentic system of self-transformation has a difficult job, in that he becomes an easy object for the projection of the internal samskara (habitual patterns or grooves that we generate in the ways that we unconsciously react or respond to the world around us) patterns which naturally arise for the students in the practice.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Any authentic practice will bring our samskaras onto the surface of our conscious experience. When this occurs, a practitioner has three choices: 1) Run away from or avoid experiencing the samskara; 2) Add fuel to the fire of the samskara by reacting more strongly to it and increasing the depth of its groove in our subconscious patterning; 3) Attempt to consciously observe the manifestation of the samskara without reaction and with as much objectivity/equanimity as possible. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Some members of our community have engaged in dramatic public displays of self-immolation, burning in the flames of their own unresolved samskaras for everyone to witness. Certain opportunists from outside the Ashtanga system have capitalized on this mess and encouraged the performers to deepen the drama of their performances.  I have felt both entertained and embarrassed for these social media circus acts over the last year or two. Other people have left the organization in quieter and more respectful ways. The most unpalatable aspect of the entire spectacle for me has been the number of people who’ve jumped onto the bandwagon of blatant social media virtue signalling, as a means to promote their own self-interest.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The positivity of our experience in the new shala with Sharathji over the past two months has solidified my perception that what has occurred has been a very healthy process of weeding out those who are no longer benefiting from, nor wish to continue to engage in the practice of Ashtanga Yoga in the way that Sharathji teaches it. I wish all of the people who have weeded themselves out the very best, and I hope that they can find a healthy and fruitful way to engage with themselves and with their lives which makes it irrelevant for them to criticize those of us who still very much enjoy and benefit from our practice and especially from our relationship with our teacher, Sharath Jois.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The above is all I wish to publicly say about recent controversies. I request those who hold a different opinion from my own to refrain from attempting to engage with me on this subject in the comments section. This is not because I wish to exist in an echo chamber. I am well aware of all of the issues and accusations, and my own opinions are well developed and considered in light of all of the information that has been shared. I am comfortable and happy in my own relationship with the Ashtanga practice, and my relationship with my teacher, Sharath Jois, and with my students. I simply don’t wish to devote any of my time and energy to debating with those who hold a different opinion from my own, and who are unable to move forward from the quagmire of their own samskaras. There are issues and problems facing the human race and the entirety of life on the planet earth which are of far greater magnitude and importance than the internal politics of the Ashtanga system of yoga practice.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">To sum up this section of my reflections on the past two months: The evolution of practice with Sharath Jois in Mysore feels very positive to me, and seemingly to most of the students who were there in October and November. We all enjoyed and benefited from practice in the new shala very much and it was a privilege to practice with a group of 300 people who were all grateful for the opportunity to be present at the inauguration of the new shala and to benefit from Sharathji’s teaching.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Part of the positivity I experienced on this trip came from the development in my personal practice. I’ve written about some of the struggles that I experienced in my personal practice on my first two trips of practice with Sharathji, as well as the insights and benefits that I gleaned from working through those struggles. The subsequent three trips have been much smoother on a practice level, and the sense of ease in my asana practice at the shala culminated in this fifth trip. I feel that Sharathji and I have learned a lot about each other, in spite of the fact that we rarely exchange words, and we understand how to work with each other effectively and with mutual respect. The evolution of this relationship is a major factor in my increased sense of ease and progression in my asana practice under Sharathji’s guidance.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I began this trip on <em>Koundinyasana</em>, which is about halfway through the arm balance section of the third series. My only major stumbling point in my previous trip was <em>Eka Pada Bakasana A</em>, which is the most difficult arm balance and one of the weakest links in my third series practice. Sharathji demanded that I develop the ability to lift the foot of the bent leg up higher and that I straighten the arms in the posture. These expectations required me to study and rework the entire posture from the ground up, which I did in part by watching YouTube videos of the few advanced practitioners who are able to execute this posture adeptly (thanks to those who have shared their practice of this posture in this way). I was stuck on <em>Eka Pada Bakasana A</em> for a few weeks on the previous trip. Once I had worked out how to do the posture in line with Sharathji’s standards, he moved me forward with a few more postures at the end of the trip.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I continued to develop my <em>Eka Pada Bakasana A</em> in my home practice over the past year and was happy to experience continued progress in it. On the first day of third series practice on this most recent trip, I think I heard Sharathji make an approving comment from somewhere nearby while I was executing the posture.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">A large part of my asana development with Sharathji over five trips can be summed up by the following general description: I consider the full manifestation of Difficult Asana X to be beyond my physical capabilities due to structural limitations in my body. When I reach Difficult Asana X in my practice with Sharathji, he points out that he wants me to be able to do it anyways. He then leaves me to work it out myself. I grumble and moan about it for a few days, and then put my head down and attempt to figure it out. With persistence and effort, I eventually manage to improve my ability to manifest the full version of the posture, and then feel happy about having attained something which I had previously considered impossible. Due to the conscious engaging with, and eventual transformation of, my most challenging structural limitations, the positive effects of having attained Difficult Posture X reverberate to deeper layers of my being for a significant period of time afterwards. My overall understanding of the dynamics of how the practice works on the human organism deepens as a result. There aren’t any other teachers out there who would force me to encounter these blind spots within myself through the necessity of encountering Difficult Posture X, and I wouldn’t have the willpower or motivation to do it on my own without it being made a requirement by a teacher. This is one of the main reasons that I return to practice with Sharathji each year.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">My focus for this trip was the intimidating third series posture <em>Gandha Berundasana</em>. After returning home at the end of the previous trip, I realized that if Sharathji continued to give me new postures at the standard pace he has developed with me, I would probably reach <em>Gandha Berundasana</em> at the end of this trip. <em>Gandha</em> is a physically challenging posture, but it is the psychological intimidation which makes it the most difficult posture in the series for me.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I first learned <em>Gandha Berundasana</em> more than a decade ago with my former teacher, Rolf. At that time, I did not have the ability to attain the final stage of the posture on my own, so my teacher would put me into the posture every day, by holding my legs for me while I brought my arms around to catch them. I practiced <em>Gandha Berundasana</em> with Rolf in this way for several trips over a period of a few years, but I never cultivated the ability to practice it on my own, at home. Without assistance, I would find it too intimidating, and eventually left it out of my practice altogether. At the end of my previous trip with Sharathji, in August 2018, I hadn’t attempted to practice <em>Gandha Berundasana</em> since my last trip with Rolf, which was in 2013. I realized that I would have to reencounter the posture soon enough in my practice with Sharathji and I wondered what his expectations would be for it. Few people develop the ability to do the full version of it, and some do get moved past the posture without having attained the ability to catch the feet without assistance.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Sharathji has always set very high standards for me, and I realized that <em>Gandha Berundasana</em> would be no exception. <em>Gandha Berundasana</em> thus became my Difficult Posture X for 2018/2019. I began to work on it at home in earnest, not really expecting to attain the final version of the posture on my own, but hoping to at least gain some experiential familiarity with it before I had to attempt it in Mysore. I surprised myself by cultivating the ability to bring my left arm forward and to catch my left foot with my hand within a few weeks of commencing my daily attempts. Bringing the second arm forward was a completely different story. Once the second arm comes forward, the psychological vulnerability comes into play, as the entire body is then in an extremely compromised position, with all of the weight of the body being born on the upper chest and chin. If the posture is done incorrectly, the breath can be completely cut off and blacking out is a possibility. This happened to me once when I was practicing it with Rolf, and I have heard of other practitioners who had a similar experience. Not wanting to repeat this sort of experience added to the intimidation factor for me.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">It took me at least another month to gain the courage and skill to bring the second arm forward. The breakthrough came when I watched a few YouTube videos of advanced practitioners who can do the posture well (thanks again to those who shared…) Sharathji’s own technique of bringing the second arm forward very quickly appealed to me the most when I watched his third series practice video, so I decided to apply this method in my practice the following morning. When the moment came to try, I whipped my second arm around, and was happy to find that it worked—for a moment. In the next moment, I lost my balance and fell sideways out of the posture, which is quite dangerous considering the compromised position and weight distribution of the body and neck. Fortunately, I didn’t injure my neck in the fall, but I did land heavily and uncontrolled on one foot and bruised a toe, which resulted in the necessity of modifying my practice for a few days afterwards.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Once a particular physical movement is completed for the first time, it sticks in the cellular memory of the body, and one is much more likely to be able to complete the movement again on subsequent attempts. From the next morning onward, I was able to bring the second arm forward every day, with greater control and no sense of risk of falling.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The final step, of catching the right foot with my right hand took the longest for me to attain. After bringing the right arm forward, the right foot still hovered what seemed like a vast distance from my hand. Due to the intensity of the stimulation of the nerves in the compromised position, I didn’t feel I could stay there very long and there wasn’t much progress in either lifting the hand up or bringing the foot down. I remained stuck at this stage for at least a month or two. Eventually, my comfort in that particular stage of the process increased and I made some progress by playing around with how I shifted my weight on my chest. I learned that I was allowing my weight to fall back too far. This helped with the sense of comfort and balance, but to bring my right foot down, I had to allow my weight to tilt more forward. I also learned that by pulling my left foot closer to the ground with my hand and then more forward and away from my head, the weight of my entire body could shift more forward, and subsequently, more arch would become possible in the right hip and leg. I also began to cultivate the ability to move my right arm and shoulder more freely by focusing on deepening the mobility of the shoulders in twists like <em>Bharadvajasana</em>, <em>Supta Urdhva Pada Vajrasana</em> and <em>Viranchyasana B</em>. Increasing the mobility of the shoulder and chest in these postures felt very similar to what was required to move the shoulder and arm more freely in <em>Gandha Berundasana</em>.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Finally, about 3 or 4 months after I began to work on <em>Gandha Berundasana</em>, my right hand caught the right foot, and I had completed the posture. For the next week, I was able to complete the posture each time I attempted it. I then had a scheduled trip to Canada, which is a long and exhausting journey from Bali, to visit my family for a month. I was surprised to find that my ability to complete the full posture hadn’t been lost in the 30 hours of air travel and arrival in sub-zero early spring weather. I retained the ability to complete the posture fully for the following three weeks in Canada, but then I suddenly lost the ability in my final week in my home country. The series of return flights to Bali was tougher physiologically than the flights to Canada were, and I arrived feeling stiff and exhausted. When my physical condition did not open back up very much after a few days of settling in, it became clear that I was entering into a “pull back and integration phase”, which often follows a period of deeper opening. After more than 15 years of daily Ashtanga practice, one becomes accustomed to the dynamics of the cycles of structural shifting and integration.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">When one enters into a phase of tightening up, as the structural intelligence of the body integrates the deeper changes that have begun to manifest, it is good to respect the process by letting go of any attachment one may have felt to the achievements and feelings of the open state, and to work intelligently with the new reality of the body as it manifests each day. In this case, I continued to practice only intermediate series for much longer than I usually would after a period of travel. Intermediate felt like enough of a struggle and third series felt completely unpalatable. A few weeks later, I began to work back into what had been my regular practice of the preceding six months, which was all of intermediate and third series up to <em>Gandha Berundasana</em>. Once I started working on <em>Gandha</em> again, I was back to ground zero, and I had to repeat the entire process of learning the posture step by step as I had done six months earlier. It took another three months of patient daily application to arrive back at the stage where I was catching both of my feet and completing the posture. By this point, it was June or July, and I had two or three months of being able to execute the posture fully again before my trip to Mysore in October.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The three months of practice at home before my Mysore trip were quite strong. A deeper phase of structural change and integration was taking place and I had been maintaining a long daily practice of nearly two full series on three of my practice days per week for over one year. The opening and strengthening felt good, but there were also the inevitable transient aches that come with deeper integration, such pains in the ribs (especially on the right side) and shoulders. The right side of my body had changed significantly from the process of teaching myself how to catch the feet in <em>Gandha</em>. I was a little bit concerned that I might experience another “pull back” or burnout once I reached Mysore, but fortunately this did not happen at all. In fact, my practice in Mysore became much easier than it had been at home, and all the little aches disappeared completely within my first two weeks of practice in Mysore. Starting practice at 4:45 a.m. in Mysore means I get to sleep in a few hours longer than I do at home, and being able to go home after practice and relax, instead of going to teach for several hours probably contributed to the increased ease that I felt my practice in Mysore. I felt strong, open and vibrant right from day one in the new shala.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">After the customary first few days of primary and then intermediate series practice, I started my full practice in the second week. Sharathji began giving me new postures right away, and also helped me with catching at the end of backbending a little more frequently than he had in previous trips. For most of the trip, he did catching with me at least 3  days per week, leaving the assistants to do it only occasionally. Deepening my catching became the focus of the trip and my interactions with him. The postures of third series that he added to my practice each week seemed to be superfluous, and he rarely even watched me perform them before giving me the next ones, but catching my legs seemed to be something he was adamant about deepening with me.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Catching has never been easy for me. My previous teacher did not do it very often with me because his wife was strongly opposed to the procedure altogether. So, when I began practice with Sharathji in 2014, I had only rudimentary experience with catching. Catching is a big focus in Mysore, as those who have practiced with Sharathji know. Over the five trips, I developed in catching significantly. I went from catching my ankles and lower calves on the first trip, to regularly being able to catch just below my knees, and being able to stand and straighten my legs on my own by the time I was at the end of my third trip. A few times on my third and fourth trip, Sharathji adjusted my fingers right up onto my kneecaps, which was terrifying. The first time I was successful in holding my kneecaps was towards the end of my third trip when we did catching at the end of led intermediate. Sharathji was accustomed to me bailing out of the posture pretty quickly when he moved my hands higher up, so this time when he put my hands on my kneecaps he loudly commanded, “Now STAY! Everyone is watching.” It worked, and I managed to balance holding my kneecaps for a good 5–10 breaths on that day. Each new stage of development in catching has always felt very healthy for me structurally, and no one is better at adjusting this posture than Sharathji.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Holding the kneecaps was a rarity in my third and fourth trips, and usually he left me at the standard holding place of just below the knees. This trip was different. By the middle of the second week, he was already bringing my hands onto my kneecaps. The first time he did it, I didn’t feel ready, and I bailed out. We smiled at each other when I came up and he asked, “Why? It came so nicely today.” As he pressed me in <em>Paschimottanasa</em>, he jovially inquired, “Why you fear so much?” The next day he tried again and this time I disregarded my habitual fear reaction and I managed to stay and hold my kneecaps. Sharathji is correct about the fear. Once I let go of the fear reaction and try my best to work with the adjustment, I experience the reality that there is nothing physiological which prevents me from being capable of it. It is the aversion to the intense feeling in the nervous system that drives me to avoid it. This is the wisdom of a teacher like Sharathji, who can see exactly what one is capable of, and expects one to encounter whatever samskaras are preventing one from achieving one’s full potential.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">From the second week onward, catching the knees became the standard each time that Sharathji did it with me. As with each of the previous stages of catching, the more often I did it, the easier it was to become comfortable and to stay there. Sharathji is also adamant about squeezing my elbows inwards while holding my legs. It always feels great on my spine and shoulders and being adjusted skillfully into catching is truly the best way to end the practice. For most of this trip, I was finishing after a long sequence of apanic postures, and the deep catching was a wonderful counter posture to end with.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">It soon became clear that the focus on catching was preparing me for the deep backbending in <em>Viparita Salabhasana</em> and <em>Gandha Berundasana</em>, which were soon to come. This is another aspect of Sharathji’s teaching that I admire. He isn’t interested in simply adjusting postures. He teaches according to a long-term plan that he makes for each student, given the amount of time the student is spending with him on any particular trip. He is also aware of whether he will see a student again on a subsequent trip or not. He knew that he was going to take me up to <em>Gandha</em> on this trip, and his focus for the weeks before that happened was not so much on the other third series postures that he was giving me, but on cultivating the necessary depth in my backbending for me to be able to perform <em>Gandha</em> well.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">There were very few backbends in my practice for most of the trip. After the backbending sequence at the beginning of intermediate series, the subsequent two thirds of intermediate series, and then the first two thirds of third series are all apanic postures, featuring mainly leg behind the head variations and arm balances. In order to help myself in the process of going deeper into catching at the end of this long apanic sequence of postures, I focused strongly on pulling my sacrum and tailbone deep into my body with each and every upward facing dog posture that I did in my practice. It was a nice meditative thread to sustain, and the degree of mobility I could cultivate in the sacrum and tailbone would be a good yardstick to measure how I would feel in backbending at the end of my practice. As long as I could feel a natural ease in the mobility of my sacrum and tailbone in my upward facing dogs, I knew it would be no problem to straighten my legs and move deeper into catching at the end of the practice.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Sharathji added the two <em>Viparita Dandasana</em> variations, which are the first backbends of third series, near the beginning of my second month of practice. It was a relief to have this extra preparation for catching after stopping on the <em>Viranchyasana</em> postures for the preceding week or two. As soon as <em>Viparita Dandasana</em> was added to my practice, Sharathji upped the ante for catching. After bringing my hands to the customary position at the bottom of the knees, and then waiting for me to straighten my legs, instead of bringing my hands onto my kneecaps—as I had grown accustomed to in the preceding weeks—he brought my hands entirely above my knees, so that all of my fingers were on my thighs. After the first hand was moved into position, my mind reacted with a familiar “You’ve got to be kidding! No way!” sort of revolt, but having grown accustomed to pushing my limits over the preceding weeks of practice with Sharathji, I was able to remain fairly calm and was shocked to find that it was physically possible. After the second hand was brought into position, I was able to remain there for a few breaths, though my balance was shaky, and Sharathji had to keep his hands on my hips to steady me. When I came out of the posture, I had a unique and interesting experience. I felt like something “snapped” energetically somewhere deep inside me. There was no physical pain or discomfort, but my entire body felt like it was made of rubber. The structural tension that I was accustomed to feeling in my relationship with gravity had been completely shifted and I felt loose and untethered. Although it wasn’t a painful feeling, it was mildly disturbing to have the foundation and base of my relationship with gravity suddenly vanish, as if a rug had been pulled out from under my feet. I walked over to the finishing area with wobbly rubber limbs. By the time I was done with finishing postures I felt relatively normal, and the wobbly feeling was replaced with the familiar pleasant feeling of deeper structural opening.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I felt relatively “normal” in the next morning’s practice, but I was not surprised to find that I couldn’t lift out of <em>Karandavasana</em>. In my previous trip, I had also found that deepening my catching had inhibited my ability to lift out of <em>Karandavasana</em>. This is natural, because catching and <em>Karandavasana</em> are polar opposites in their physiological and energetic patterning. On this trip, it was only that particular morning where I could not do it. By the following morning, the changes had been sufficiently integrated and I could once again lift up out of <em>Karandavasana</em>. From then onward, catching with my hands completely above the kneecaps became the standard when Sharathji did catching with me. I no longer experienced the wobbly rubber man effect after the first time.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Interestingly, he kept me on <em>Viparita Dandasana</em> for two weeks, which was the longest stretch of this trip that I did not receive new postures. In the second last week of the trip, he added <em>Viparita Salabhasana</em> and <em>Gandha Berundasana</em>. On the day he gave me those postures, I had already finished <em>Viparita Dandasana</em> and all of the finishing backbending. I had done three backbends on the ground, three drop backs, three tic toks and I was in the middle of executing <em>Vrischkasana</em>, when I heard him say, “Tsk tsk….what did you do?” I knew he was talking to me, even though I couldn’t move my head to see him from the compromised position that I was in. I came down and looked at him and he asked me again what I did. “<em>Viparita Dandasana</em>”, I replied.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">“Show me <em>B</em>”, he said. Having already done all of intermediate series, three quarters of third series, and the entire backbending sequence, I was shaky and exhausted. But, it was easy enough to pop back into <em>Viparita Dandasana B</em>. Afterwards, I looked up and Sharathji was nowhere to be seen. I knelt on my mat for a few seconds, unsure of what to do, and then I saw him walking back towards me. “Show me”, he repeated. So, I did <em>Viparita Dandasana B</em> for the third time of the morning. When I finished, he said “<em>Viparita Salabhasana</em>”.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Though my focus for the past year had been <em>Gandha Berundasana</em>, and I consider it much more psychologically intimidating than the posture that precedes it, <em>Viparita Salabhasana</em> is more difficult for me in terms of flexibility. Though I had managed to teach myself how to catch the legs in <em>Gandha Berundasana</em>, I hadn’t developed the mobility to touch my feet onto my head in <em>Viparita Salabhasana</em>. <em>Viparita Salabhasana</em> requires a different kind of movement than <em>Gandha</em>, and this movement has always been very difficult for me. The posture is less psychologically intimidating due to having the support of the arms behind the body, but I feel like it does require more flexibility in the spine and hips. <em>Gandha</em> is a more complex combination of flexibility, balance, coordination and courage.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">All of the extra backbending that I had done that morning was exhausting, but it was a blessing because, along with the sustained preparation of all the deep catching over the preceding six weeks, it created the conditions where I couldn’t have possibly been more prepared to attempt one of my most difficult postures than I was in that moment. Whether Sharathji had made me do the extra repetitions of <em>Viparita Dandasana</em> and the whole backbending sequence first on purpose, or whether it was just a fluke is unknown, but he certainly did have a plan to prepare me for this by relentlessly pushing my limits in catching over the preceding six weeks.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Not surprisingly, it was the easiest and deepest <em>Viparita Salabhasana</em> that I have ever done. As I began to work my way into the posture for the first time in two months, I found entirely new qualities and degrees of movement. I was shocked to find my feet plant themselves on my head, with my toes in my eyes. Sharathji had been watching me intently, and demanded, “heels together!” I lifted my feet a bit, pressed my heels together and drew my knees in, and was then able to reposition my feet on my head again. After I jumped back to <em>Chaturanga</em>, I looked at him, and he silently made the motion of moving his arms around as a signal for me to attempt <em>Gandha Berundasana</em>. I made my way into the posture and caught the first foot fairly easily. “Catch the other foot quickly!” he demanded. I was accustomed to taking a few breaths while I gathered my courage before bringing the second arm around. He repeated his demand: “Catch it quickly!” I brought the second arm around and managed to grab my foot immediately. As soon as I had caught my second foot, I saw him turn around and silently walk away. I then did the closing backbending sequence for a second time, to complete what was probably the strongest morning of practice that I had ever had with Sharathji.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">A key feature of Sharathji’s style of teaching the Ashtanga system, is to ensure that the foundations are properly and deeply developed, so that the subsequent postures are much more likely to be easily attained. When I had first learned <em>Gandha</em> with my former teacher, I did not have enough foundational development to be able to accomplish the posture, and even when he helped me do it, the intensity of the experience was overwhelming. This is why I had dropped it altogether in the interim years before practicing it with Sharathji. The depth of Sharathji’s understanding of how the system will work on each individual person, is that he is able to prepare you for what is to come, and he feels no hurry, allowing the preparations to take root over time. The five years that he focused intently on catching and backbending in general with me, the preceding one year that I had personally placed so much emphasis on cultivating <em>Gandha</em> in my own home practice, the six weeks of  this trip where he was having me catch my legs much deeper than I ever had before, and finally, all the extra backbending preparation (whether it was accidental or not) on the day I did it, led to the moments of finally practicing <em>Viparita Salabhasana</em> and <em>Gandha Berundasana</em> in the shala to be an almost effortless anticlimax. There were times where I had imagined what practicing these postures in the shala with Sharathji would be like, and I never anticipated it would be anything less than extremely intense. In the end, because of the cumulative prep work that had been done, there was no struggle or special emphasis, aside from the fact that Sharathji watched me do them intently that first time.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The only downside to my first day of practicing <em>Viparita Salabhasana</em> and <em>Gandha Berundasana</em> in the shala was that I injured my toe jumping back from <em>Viparita Salabhasana</em>. A confluence of factors contributed to the injury: The fact that I was fatigued from all the extra backbending on that day; the fact that I had not practiced the posture for two months; the fact that I was much deeper into the posture than I had ever been before and due to the unfamiliarity of the increased bend in my body, I had less of the strength and control I was accustomed to experiencing in the jumping back to <em>Chaturanga</em>. The transition from <em>Viparita Salabhasana</em> to <em>Chaturanga Dandasana</em> is always a bit tricky and usually involves a harder landing than in most transitions. On this occasion, I landed extra hard in <em>Chaturanga</em>. It didn’t seem like an injury at first, I simply had a feeling of: “Oh! That was a bit hard on my toes”, but no pain seemed to linger as I carried on with <em>Gandha Berundasana</em>, backbending and finishing. When I got up from relaxation, however, my toe had begun to swell and feel painful and I figured it would be sore for a day or two. Throughout the day the swelling increased dramatically, spread to half of the foot, and the toe itself cycled through most of the colours of the rainbow. I went to a homeopathic doctor around noon and got some arnica cream and pills, and figured I’d have to modify my practice for a few days, as I had when I had fallen out of <em>Gandha</em> and hurt my toe in my learning process at home. It turned out to be more serious than I anticipated, and for the remainder of that week, I was not able to place any weight on my left foot at all while jumping forward or back and had to modify the postures which required me to bear all of my weight on one foot. I still managed to maintain the intensity of my full practice jumping with one leg and it didn’t dampen my mood at all. I even managed to continue my daily 5 km walks around Kukkarahali Lake, albeit at a greatly reduced pace and with a pronounced limp for the subsequent week. After a few days, the swelling began to subside somewhat, the colour began to normalize and I began to be able to bear more weight on the foot and needed to modify less. It’s been slow healing, though. At the time of writing, it has been more than one month since the injury and the base of the toe is still quite swollen, though my movements are 95 percent back to normal. I still avoid landing on it in the most difficult transitions.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I didn’t expect to be moved past <em>Gandha Berundasana</em> on this trip. From what I understood, Sharathji usually likes to keep people on that posture, with a marathon practice of all of intermediate and three quarters of third series for at least one whole cycle between trips. I was surprised when he told me to half-split intermediate the following day. From then onward I would only do either the first or second half of intermediate, on alternating days, before doing all of third series. Even with the added strain of my toe injury, the shortened practice felt rejuvenating and invigorating. I was even more surprised the day after that when he told me to add <em>Hanumanasana</em> the following week, which was the final week of the two month trip. He added a couple more postures in that final week, and I ended the trip on <em>Digasana</em>, which is only four postures away from the end of third series.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The trip ended quite fittingly with the deepest and most stable catching I had done so far. As had become the standard in those final weeks, he placed my hands on my thighs, above my kneecaps, and I was able to stand quite steadily, draw my elbows inwards, and remain stable for a good 10 breaths. “Last Day”, he smiled, as I came up. “Thank you!” I replied.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">The trip felt like a maturation of all of the work I have done with Sharathji over the preceding trips. It was my favorite trip, and the smoothest one I have had. One final reflection to share about this experience is that at age 44, I feel that I am still making deep progress in my practice on all levels, including strength, flexibility and stability. I hear a number of longer-term practitioners talk about how they are “feeling their age” and that something is lost when they reach their late thirties and forties. I have not experienced this at all. I also “feel my age”, but this is not a negative or detrimental feeling when it comes to my asana practice. I do feel that a certain… vigour… has declined over the past decade or so, but other important factors, like concentration, stability, and overall maturity have increased over the same time period, and the net effect of the increase in these positive qualities far outweighs the decline in vigour. Overall, my practice feels orders of magnitude stronger and more open than it ever has. Vigour carries immaturity and recklessness with it, and this leads to many pitfalls. I don’t miss that, most of the time. The “sthira bhaga” (steady strength) that has come with aging is something I value more than immature vigour, and this is why I continue to make deep progress in my asana practice.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I feel that lifestyle factors have a major influence on the sense of well-being or lack thereof in the fourth and fifth decades of life and beyond. I can understand how teachers in their forties and fifties who live a lifestyle of constant travel, consume a less than ideal diet and add excessive strain to their bodies through engaging in frequent asana displays (outside of their usual practice routine) for Instagram and YouTube would feel the negative effects of aging on their asana practice much more readily than I do. Anyone who leads a busy, high stress lifestyle is more susceptible to a sense of decline as age increases.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">Stability in my life, which includes travelling as infrequently as possible, has become increasingly important for me over the past decade. The subtleties of structural transformation and integration require a stable background in order to manifest in a way that is healthy and assimilable. I love the feeling of landing back at home in Bali after travelling and realizing that I won’t have to move for the next six to nine months. This is when I feel like I can really settle into myself and sink deeply into the intricacies of my practice. It is one of the main reasons that I almost always decline invitations to teach workshops in other places. There are other reasons that I don’t enjoy short-term teaching gigs in new places, but the disruption to my own lifestyle and my own practice is first and foremost.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">It boils down to a question of emphasis. I prioritize my personal practice and I still enjoy engaging in a longer and intensive daily practice. I work my teaching habits around that emphasis. I still practice one and a half to two full series on three or four of my six practice days per week. I completed fourth series with Rolf Naujokat in 2013, but since I started practicing with Sharathji in 2014, I’ve chosen to mainly focus on what I am practicing with him in my personal practice at home. Usually, in between trips to Mysore, I practice what I think Sharathji will give me in the shala on my subsequent trip. That means that over the past year, at home, I maintained a daily practice of all of intermediate, and third series up to <em>Gandha Berundasana</em> on at least 3 days of the week. For the other 3 practice days, I practiced one series—one day each for primary, intermediate and third. There is no possibility that I could have sustained this kind of practice if I was travelling around and teaching in different places, or if I was engaging in additional display sessions for Instagram and YouTube. Maintaining a high level of depth and intensity in personal practice before teaching for several hours each morning requires being grounded in one place, and cultivating a disciplined, regular lifestyle and diet. I enjoy this form of asceticism.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">From where Sharathji left me at the end of this trip, I will probably start to work back into fourth series in my home practice over the next year. I look forward to this, it should be interesting to revisit fourth series, after all of the changes that have manifested from my practice with Sharathji in the years since I last practiced fourth regularly.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I feel that diet is also extremely important in maintaining a high physical and energetic level into my forties. Diet is a vast subject, which is far beyond the scope of this already lengthy article. I began writing an article about my dietary explorations some time ago, and hopefully I will return and finish that article in the future. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">In brief, I eat a vegan diet, based on nutrient dense whole foods with approximately 50/50 ratio of raw and cooked food. I avoid all processed foods, most common allergens, most forms of sugar (including “natural” sugar) and most kinds of fermented food. I rarely consume heavy pulses or nuts. I consume moderate, but not excessive, amounts of starchy grains and vegetables. I consume a moderate, but not excessive, amount of fruits. The most important and prominent components of my diet are fresh fibrous vegetables, lighter legumes, “pseudograins” and seeds. My diet tends to be alkaline overall. Brendan Brazier’s “Thrive Diet” is the published dietary system which is closest to my own. Brendan has written several books about his Thrive Diet, and I feel it is conducive to deep yoga practice.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">I feel that it is also important for Ashtanga practitioners, and especially teachers, to monitor the effects of the quantity of food that they eat. Most people are aware that overeating is detrimental to progress in the practice, but undereating, or following an overly restrictive diet, will also lead to weakness and inhibit muscle recovery. Undereating over a long period of time will certainly contribute to a sense of decline as one ages.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Appropriate quantity and timing of food are highly individual and dependent on one&#8217;s personal constitution. I have a very rapid metabolic rate and need to eat a high quantity of the right kinds of food in order to sustain my high level of physical and mental activity. I never skip dinner, and I would rather eat dinner too late, than not at all. My last meal of the day is typically around 6–6:30 p.m., and I begin my practice around 2 a.m. I finish my practice at 4 a.m., and take a long relaxation until 4:30 a.m. I then have two hours before I start teaching at 6:30 a.m. Those two hours are dedicated to preparing a calorie-dense and nourishing breakfast—typically buckwheat porridge (or raw dehydrated buckwheat granola when I can get it), with lots of nutrient dense toppings and a fruit and herb smoothie, followed by a nuclear-strength coffee. I then shower and drive to class.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Many Ashtanga teachers don&#8217;t leave any time gap between the end of their personal practice and the beginning of teaching. Their first meal of the day doesn&#8217;t occur until after teaching, when they have already engaged in 4 to 6 hours of heavy physical and mental work. I believe that this lifestyle will weaken and deplete a person if sustained over a long period of time. I have witnessed older Ashtanga teachers become weaker and unhealthy due to this lack of self-care. Many give up regular Mysore style teaching because of it. Paying more attention to diet—especially in the important junction between practice and teaching—is a way to prevent this.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">I use a lot of herbal and whole food supplements, and this experimentation becomes increasingly important as my age increases. I focus on three categories of herbal supplements—anti-inflammatory, adaptogen and tonic strengtheners. My favorite anti-inflammatory foods include cissus triangularis, varieties of the ginger family and turmeric. In the adaptogen category, ginseng, maca and shilajit are my favorites. For tonic strengtheners, muira puama, thai black ginger (not easy to find—if you are heading my way from Thailand and want to bring me some, I would be grateful!) and tribulus terrestris are the most effective for me. When I am consuming any of these strengthening herbs on a regular basis, there is a tangible increase in strength and stamina that runs through my entire practice. Many powerful herbs and foods overlap between the three above-mentioned categories. I also include a high quality vegan protein powder on a daily basis, blended into a smoothie with homemade coconut cream, bananas, coconut water, and a few of the above-mentioned herbs. Vega Sport Performance Protein (formulated by Brendan Brazier) is the best one available on the market, and I am grateful to the many people who bring tubs of this to Bali for me. One needs to be careful with protein supplements, as many contain inferior sources of protein and contain filler ingredients which can upset the digestive system and increase inflammation in the body. Whey protein in particular should be completely avoided. On this most recent trip to Mysore I also began to experiment with adding pure L-glutamine powder in several doses throughout the day. This seemed to have a positive effect overall. I am currently experimenting with L-arginine, and 2:1:1 BCAA powders as well. These amino acids are also found in any good quality protein powder supplement, as well as in a healthy regular vegan diet. I have found that adding additional supplementation is quite useful for supporting a 2-to-3-hour advanced daily Ashtanga practice. There is much, much more I could say about diet and supplementation, but I will save all of that for its own dedicated discussion in another article.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">It should also be noted that the aging process is undoubtedly different for men and for women. I think much of what I have written above applies generally to both sexes, but the intricacies of the different hormonal changes would certainly lead to different experiences and probably to different foods and herbs that would be most helpful. As always, one’s own phenomenal experience is the best teacher. </span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">A final factor that I attribute to helping maintain my strong asana practice is my daily pranayama practice. I’ve been practicing pranayama for nearly as long as I have been practicing asana. My current pranayama routine was taught to me over a 5 year period by Rolf Naujokat approximately 10 years ago, and according to him, it is the pranayama sequence that K. Pattabhi Jois taught to his advanced students in the 1990s. The entire sequence takes about 45 minutes to complete, and I usually do it in the late morning or early afternoon. It has a powerful rejuvenative influence and it brings immense depth and subtelty to the cultivation of breath and internal form in the asana practice itself. It is said that pranayama practice becomes stronger with age, and I can attest to that. For me, it works hand in hand with the asana practice, and the two are part and parcel of a single process of self-cultivation.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-weight: 400;">In summary, my fifth trip of practice with Sharath Jois was my best trip so far. I enjoyed practice in the new shala immensely, and my own asana practice has never felt better. I am deeply grateful for the influence and guidance of Sharathji on the evolution of my practice, and my respect for him as a teacher and as a person grows with each trip. I look forward to the months ahead of continued self-exploration in my practice, in the dark, damp early morning hours at home in Bali, and I look forward to my next trip with Sharathji in Mysore.</span></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Acknowledgements</strong></p>
<ul>
<li style="text-align: justify;">Thank you to Clayton Loizou and Greg Steward for helpful editing and suggestions about the article.</li>
</ul>
</div><div class="fusion-clearfix"></div></div></div></div></div><div class="fusion-fullwidth fullwidth-box fusion-builder-row-4 nonhundred-percent-fullwidth non-hundred-percent-height-scrolling" style="--awb-border-radius-top-left:0px;--awb-border-radius-top-right:0px;--awb-border-radius-bottom-right:0px;--awb-border-radius-bottom-left:0px;--awb-margin-top:60px;--awb-margin-bottom:60px;--awb-flex-wrap:wrap;" ><div class="fusion-builder-row fusion-row"><div class="fusion-layout-column fusion_builder_column fusion-builder-column-3 fusion_builder_column_1_2 1_2 fusion-one-half fusion-column-first" style="--awb-bg-size:cover;width:50%;width:calc(50% - ( ( 4% ) * 0.5 ) );margin-right: 4%;"><div class="fusion-column-wrapper fusion-column-has-shadow fusion-flex-column-wrapper-legacy"><div class="fusion-button-wrapper"><a class="fusion-button button-flat fusion-button-default-size button-default fusion-button-default button-1 fusion-button-default-span fusion-button-default-type" target="_self" href="https://spaciousyoga.com/ashtanga-immersion-course/"><span class="fusion-button-text awb-button__text awb-button__text--default">Ashtanga Immersion course with Iain in Ubud, Bali</span><i class="fa-angle-right fas awb-button__icon awb-button__icon--default button-icon-right" aria-hidden="true"></i></a></div><div class="fusion-clearfix"></div></div></div><div class="fusion-layout-column fusion_builder_column fusion-builder-column-4 fusion_builder_column_1_2 1_2 fusion-one-half fusion-column-last" style="--awb-bg-size:cover;width:50%;width:calc(50% - ( ( 4% ) * 0.5 ) );"><div class="fusion-column-wrapper fusion-column-has-shadow fusion-flex-column-wrapper-legacy"><div class="fusion-button-wrapper"><a class="fusion-button button-flat fusion-button-default-size button-default fusion-button-default button-2 fusion-button-default-span fusion-button-default-type" target="_self" href="https://spaciousyoga.com/morning-mysore-practice/"><span class="fusion-button-text awb-button__text awb-button__text--default">Daily Mysore practice with Iain in Ubud, Bali</span><i class="fa-angle-right fas awb-button__icon awb-button__icon--default button-icon-right" aria-hidden="true"></i></a></div><div class="fusion-clearfix"></div></div></div></div></div></p>
<p>The post <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/reflections-on-my-fifth-trip-in-mysore/">Reflections on the new shala and my fifth trip of practice in Mysore with Sharath Jois &#8211; by Iain Grysak</a> appeared first on <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com">Spacious Yoga</a>.</p>
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		<title>“You Stop There” Lessons from Sharath Jois and Reflections on the Mysore Method</title>
		<link>https://spaciousyoga.com/you-stop-there-lessons-from-sharath-jois/</link>
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		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Iain Grysak]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Thu, 22 Jan 2015 09:43:24 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Ashtanga Yoga]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Longer Articles/Philosophy]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mysore]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Dwi Pada]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Mysore-Style Ashtanga]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Sharath Jois]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://spaciousyoga.com/?p=1113</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>I recently returned from my first three month trip to practice with Sharath Jois in Mysore. I am not a newcomer to the Ashtanga system – I completed the 4th series with my previous teacher Rolf Naujokat earlier in 2014, and have maintained a daily Ashtanga practice for nearly 12 years. I knew that  [...]</p>
<p>The post <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/you-stop-there-lessons-from-sharath-jois/">“You Stop There” Lessons from Sharath Jois and Reflections on the Mysore Method</a> appeared first on <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com">Spacious Yoga</a>.</p>
]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><div class="fusion-fullwidth fullwidth-box fusion-builder-row-5 hundred-percent-fullwidth non-hundred-percent-height-scrolling" style="--awb-border-radius-top-left:0px;--awb-border-radius-top-right:0px;--awb-border-radius-bottom-right:0px;--awb-border-radius-bottom-left:0px;--awb-padding-top:0px;--awb-padding-right:30px;--awb-padding-bottom:0px;--awb-padding-left:0px;--awb-flex-wrap:wrap;" ><div class="fusion-builder-row fusion-row"><div class="fusion-layout-column fusion_builder_column fusion-builder-column-5 fusion_builder_column_1_1 1_1 fusion-one-full fusion-column-first fusion-column-last" style="--awb-bg-size:cover;--awb-margin-bottom:0px;"><div class="fusion-column-wrapper fusion-flex-column-wrapper-legacy"><div class="fusion-text fusion-text-4"><p style="text-align: justify;">I recently returned from my first three month trip to practice with Sharath Jois in Mysore. I am not a newcomer to the Ashtanga system – I completed the 4th series with my previous teacher Rolf Naujokat earlier in 2014, and have maintained a daily Ashtanga practice for nearly 12 years. I knew that when I went to Mysore for the first time, none of this would matter.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">When I went to register at the beginning of my three months, Sharath asked me his standard question, “Who is your teacher?” I replied that I had been with Rolf for the past 8 years and first learned the system from Mark Darby a few years before that. Sharath didn’t ask which posture or series I had learned, nor did I volunteer this information; he had no further questions for me.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Regardless of a person’s background, Sharath has everyone start over from the beginning when they come to Mysore for the first time. There are good reasons for this. The way the practice has been taught in Mysore has changed over the years. The practice itself and the method remain the same, but one thing that has changed, and continues to change, is how quickly and under what circumstances people are taught new postures and series. Each Ashtanga teacher also has their own interpretation of how SKPJ or Sharath taught them.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Due to all this variation, the level of integrity in the practice of a first time student in Mysore can vary. Sharath takes everyone back to the beginning, and observes their practice based on his own standards.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">What stood out to me right away is that Sharath has high standards, demanding great integrity from the students who come. These perhaps arise from Sharath’s own high standards that he sets for himself.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Sharath has been a part of the Ashtanga lineage in Mysore longer than any other living person. Although he was only a small boy when the first Western students came to practice in Mysore, he began his life in SKPJ’s house, and lived and breathed alongside his grandfather until his death. Sharath’s connection to the lineage is quite different from a few trips to Mysore – or even many trips – punctuating an otherwise separate life on the other side of the world.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Sharath has completed 25 years of “serious practice” as he calls it – not counting the years he learned asanas for fun before the age of 19. He has been teaching for nearly as long, and in recent years has taught hundreds of students per day, every day of his teaching season. Sharath witnessed firsthand how SKPJ’s teaching method changed over the years, and how different types of bodies and minds responded to those methods. He has spent 25 years applying his own evolving interpretation of the method to many different types of bodies and minds.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Sharath has also gone further in his own practice that anyone else in this lineage and system, and still maintains his daily personal practice in spite of having enormous personal responsibilities of family and institution.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Sharath Jois has had more direct experience with the practice on his own body, and in the bodies of thousands of students, than anyone else alive. His perspective on the practice is unique in its macro and universal, as well as micro and personal aspects.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">For my own first trip in Mysore, Sharath had me do primary series only for the first three weeks. He began giving me intermediate series postures in the fourth week, one or two or three at time. He would wait for a few days or a week and then would give me the next set of postures. This started to become a familiar routine during the second month. At the end of the second month he told me to practice up to Eka Pada Sirsasana and the next day he instructed me to join the Led Intermediate class.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">During my first Led Intermediate class, after completing Eka Pada Sirsasana I began to roll up my mat and make my way to the change room for finishing postures. As I stood up, Sharath came over and said “You try Dwi Pada”. I had to unroll my mat in a hurry, and was still setting it back up as Sharath started counting the five breaths for the posture. I quickly tried to zip myself into Dwi Pada. During the exiting Vinyasa, Sharath stood in front of me and said “You stop there”. I nodded in understanding and as I moved through upward and downward dog, he looked at me again and repeated for emphasis, “You stop there.”</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">I wasn’t surprised. Out of all four series that I have learned and practice, two of my most challenging postures are still in Intermediate series &#8211; Dwi Pada Sirsasana being one of them.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">My previous teachers had deemed those postures to be good enough to move beyond, and for the past 7 years I have only been practicing Intermediate series once per week, devoting the main days of the week to practicing the 3rd and 4th series.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Although I have been well aware that two of my intermediate postures are not up to the standard of all my other postures, the fact that I only encounter them once per week has allowed me to avoid doing the necessary work to go deeper into them. When I would occasionally reflect on this, I would chalk it up to the fact that my 6 ft 3 body and its natural lordosis would not be capable of doing those two postures to the degree of perfection that I have observed other advanced practitioners doing. “Everyone has one or two weak postures”, I told myself. I continued to gloss over these posture in my once a week Intermediate practice.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">While just about any other senior teacher would judge my Dwi Pada to be good enough, Sharath has higher standards. And even if it was good enough, Sharath knew that it could still improve.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">“You stop there.”</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Once he gave me that instruction, I knew the now familiar pattern of me getting new postures regularly was broken. There would be no new set of postures later that week, or the following week. In fact, he kept me on Dwi Pada for the entire third month until the end of my trip. I was not surprised. Each week, before the Monday Led Intermediate class, my girlfriend Susan would say “I think Sharath will move you on this week.” I would smile and say “We’ll see”.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">It wasn’t so difficult for my ego to accept that I had been stopped in Intermediate series. I knew I wouldn’t get beyond Intermediate Series on my first trip, and expected my two challenging postures to be noticed by Sharath. What was difficult was that I had to actually do the work on Dwi Pada!</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Nothing changed in my Dwi Pada for the next few days, so I decided to give it a little more examination at home. I asked Susan to adjust me more deeply into it, to the degree that I felt Sharath wanted me to be able to do on my own. She did this once or twice so I could get the feeling of the posture. We took before and after photos.</p>
<p><div id="attachment_1117" style="width: 510px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img fetchpriority="high" decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-1117" class="wp-image-1117" src="https://spaciousyoga.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/IMG_4962-768x1024.jpg" alt="Dwi Pada Before" width="500" height="667" /><p id="caption-attachment-1117" class="wp-caption-text">Dwi Pada Before</p></div>
<div id="attachment_1118" style="width: 510px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img decoding="async" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-1118" class="wp-image-1118" src="https://spaciousyoga.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/01/IMG_5102-768x1024.jpg" alt="Dwi Pada After" width="500" height="667" /><p id="caption-attachment-1118" class="wp-caption-text">Dwi Pada After</p></div></p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">For the rest of that week I played around with it at home, trying to find my way into what it felt like when I was adjusted more deeply by Susan. I started to have some degree of success in what I had previously considered to be impossible for my body. In class at the shala I would also spend more time on it, doing it 2 or 3 times before moving into my finishing postures. Within two weeks of Sharath’s “you stop there” instruction, my Dwi Pada had improved significantly and visibly. I could feel a whole new level of extension in my upper thoracic spine, ease in lifting my head, and evenness throughout my body.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Still, it was not yet as good as it could be. As I was leaving the shala after practice one morning, Sharath asked: “Iain – you did Dwi Pada?” “Yes”, I replied. “OK”, he smiled and left it at that.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">It was during my third or fourth Led Intermediate class that Sharath came up behind me during Dwi Pada. “Lift your head more!” he exclaimed. I tried. “Iain – lift the head, spread your feet more!”. He half-heartedly pulled my left foot to the side. He clearly was not going to adjust me; he wanted me to do the work myself. As I rolled up my mat to leave after Dwi Pada, he again said “The head must be more up – spread the feet!” He looked perplexed, as if I was ignoring his instructions on purpose. &#8220;I&#8217;m trying&#8221;, I assured him.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Day by day, Dwi Pada became deeper and fuller. I no longer needed to play around with it at home outside of regular practice time, the transformation of the posture had taken on a life of its own and was steadily moving in a particular direction. In the three weeks since I have left Mysore, it has continued to improve, and the new state of the posture now feels very natural. It’s been so enjoyable for me to see the changes in a posture in which I previously assumed I had already reached my maximum potential, that I have continued to practice Intermediate series only instead of immediately going back to my regular 3rd and 4th series practices. It’s nice to spend some more time with what Sharath has taught me.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">For this change to occur, I needed no technical instruction, and I only needed two adjustments from Susan. I didn’t need a two-hour workshop, breaking down the mechanics of the posture, or a special adjustment clinic. I didn’t need bodywork. I didn’t even need to be adjusted by Sharath in the posture. All I needed was to hear the words “You stop there” in order to begin to focus and develop the posture myself.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">This clarifies and validates some of my understanding of how the Ashtanga system works, both as a practitioner and as a Mysore-style Ashtanga teacher.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">I am now based in Ubud, Bali and I am exposed to a wide range of students, coming from all over the world and coming from many different teachers. This is quite interesting and a great experience for me. I can now understand much more clearly why Sharath takes everyone back to Primary Series when they start with him.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">My perspective is that a significant percentage of students who come to practice with me are practicing further into the series than is appropriate for them. I have frequently felt the need to pull people back when they join practice with me, pointing out which postures they have not yet properly integrated or developed, and asking them to stop their practices there. Some students are quite open to this, some are not so happy. It’s a bit tricky as a teacher, to be able to do this in a compassionate way, so that it doesn’t feel like I am taking something away from the student. The reality is, I am giving them something, by showing them where they need to work.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">By saying “you stop there” at Dwi Pada, Sharath didn’t take away the second half of intermediate, 3rd and 4th series away from me. I still have all those postures, and I can still practice them whenever I want (just not in Mysore yet). But what Sharath did is to give me Dwi Pada, and that is a real gift. By being asked to stop and do the work, I now feel what Dwi Pada should really feel like, for the first time – 11 or 12 years after I first learned it.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Having realized this, I am now finding it easier as a teacher to ask students to “stop there.” And if the student is receptive to it, within a matter of days, I can see, and they can also feel, how the posture I have stopped them on starts to transform and change.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">There is also the potential to take this concept to an extreme and demand an ideal of perfection that is unattainable. As in anything else, it takes skill and experience to find the middle path, and to find the middle path with compassion. Becoming rigid and overly idealistic will be just as detrimental as being the opposite way.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Each student is an individual, and each individual has their own unique capacity for the different types of movements. As I worked on Dwi Pada in the shala in Mysore, I couldn’t help but look around and start to compare. Especially during Led Intermediate, I noticed that some of the people who were allowed to move on past Dwi Pada and do more postures were not doing Dwi Pada any better than I was. In fact, some were significantly worse than me.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">I would sometimes grumble to Susan later in the day about this. She would remind me that they had probably also been stopped on Dwi Pada for some time, and that Sharath had eventually decided that they had reached their maximum potential and moved them on. “He knows that you can still do it better”, she told me. Of course, I knew she was right.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The act of stopping students at a particular posture in the Ashtanga system is not to force everyone to conform to a set standard, but to make sure that each individual develops the posture to their own maximum potential, in a way that is healthy for them.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">This is why the standards are different for each individual. The expectations for Marichyasana D are going to be very different for an older person who has had 5 knee surgeries, compared to a younger person who is healthy, but just a bit stiff. The young and stiff person will likely be asked to stop there until they open up and can bind the posture, whereas the older person with damaged knees may be given different expectations.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">It takes perceptiveness, skill, and experience on the part of a teacher to do this kind of analysis well. This is the correct application of the Ashtanga system, what I believe is the most important insight we as teachers should be trying to develop in ourselves.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">It’s my observation that some Ashtanga teachers can get involved in other aspects of teaching at the expense of this insight. It’s especially easy to get caught up in teaching that makes the students feel good on a superficial level. Examples of this are giving great adjustments, giving students new postures, and displaying a lot of intellectual knowledge around the anatomy and physiology of the body and how it works in the postures.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">When you hear praises being spoken about some Ashtanga teachers, often “he/she gives great adjustments” is a part of this description. And, almost everyone feels good when they come away from a few weeks with a senior teacher and have been given a bunch of new postures to work on. And, teachers who have a lot of intellectual understanding of anatomy and physiology, and can give long workshops discussing and expounding this understanding are also given a great deal of respect. These are all good recipes for popularity and influence for the teacher. It’s an understandable challenge for teachers to resist focusing on these aspects of teaching. The result, however, can be to lose perspective on what the actual point of the practice is.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Receiving a quality adjustment can be very transformative. In fact, it is often an essential ingredient in instigating a transformative process. As I mentioned earlier, when I started to explore Dwi Pada more, the first thing I did was ask Susan to adjust me more deeply into it, so I had a bodily experience to work towards. Getting a good adjustment can help to open things up, but more important it gives the mind and nervous system an organic experience of what the end result should FEEL like in the body, so that one can try to recreate it when working on one’s own.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Though I asked Susan to adjust me in Dwi Pada, I only needed her to adjust me two times. Once I had that experience, I knew my job was to then recreate it myself. It just gave me an understanding of what I was looking for. Sharath never attempted to adjust me in Dwi Pada. He merely verbalized in the simplest terms what was lacking in the posture, and then left it up to me to figure it out.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">This is how the most skillful teachers will work with students – give them the minimum amount of input necessary for them to understand where they should be going, and then leave it up to them to work it out for themselves. This approach produces the strongest, most stable and most integrated result in the students, and it gives the students greater strength, confidence and power in the long run.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">All good teachers know this. When I was practicing Iyengar yoga 15 years ago, I also had this experience. One day I was trying to do an arm balance, struggling and falling over again and again. My teacher (who also happened to be named Sharat) was standing a few feet away quietly watching me. After a lengthy period of time, one of the other students asked “Sharat, why won’t you help Iain?”. My teacher replied “as a teacher, you have to watch, and see how far your student can go”. This wisdom is there in all good teachers, from all traditions of yoga, and other forms of practice as well.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Over-adjusting takes power away from the students, and gives it to the teacher. The students become dependent on the teacher for those “great adjustments” to help them feel good. They never develop the ability to make themselves feel good. This dependency serves the teacher by giving them more popularity, student numbers and income, so it can be difficult for the teacher to resist giving out “great adjustments” like candy. I remember my first Iyengar teacher describing this dynamic. He said “I could give you all an amazing buzz in class every day, and make you addicted to me. I have the power to do this. But, my job is to teach you independence, so you can rely on yourselves. This is real yoga.”</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Understanding of anatomy and physiology is also important. To know how the joints should be rotating, where a particular movement should and shouldn&#8217;t be coming from, what specific part of the body is actually stuck, and similar categories of knowledge are helpful and important, especially for protection against injury. But – they do not replace the real work that needs to be done to get unstuck.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Years ago I attended a couple of workshops with senior Ashtanga teachers. In these workshops, the teachers broke down the mechanics of Eka Pada and Dwi Pada. It was interesting and illuminating – intellectually. But, these workshops did not change my experience of Dwi Pada even slightly. I came away feeling like I had just spent hours with a teacher who had a lot of knowledge – but my Dwi Pada did not change one bit from it. Years later, it was only when Sharath told me, “You stop there” that I finally did the work to change my own Dwi Pada.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Teachers who give out a lot of new postures can also be very popular. Some students may attend a 2 or 4 week workshop or a few weeks of Mysore classes with a “posture-happy” teacher coming away with a handful of new postures to “work on,” whether the student is ready for them or not. At the same time, the teacher might be giving “great adjustments” in the difficult postures that are already part of the students’ practice repertoire &#8212; instead of stopping them there and asking them to work more deeply. This dynamic can breed misunderstanding of how the system works on the body-mind, what the job of the teacher is and what the goals of the practice actually are.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">Other, less experienced teachers &#8212; with little or no traditional Ashtanga training &#8212; develop liberal interpretations of the Ashtanga method and offer Mysore style and Led classes under the Ashtanga name. These teachers are giving out as many postures as a student can handle without collapsing from exhaustion. The goal is to give a strong workout. The result is usually very little integration and a lot of pain and injury. This is also a gross misinterpretation of the method.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The Ashtanga practice is here to help us see where we are stuck. This can manifest on the physical, energetic, mental or emotional plane (or most likely all four at once). Stopping at the postures that force us to encounter where we are stuck is how we actually get to work through some of this, and this is how the practice transforms us as people &#8211; physically, energetically, emotionally, and mentally.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;">The very best Ashtanga teachers will be the ones who show us where we are stuck, and where we need to stop and do the work. The best Ashtanga teachers will be the ones who don’t keep giving us great adjustments every day, or spend hours explaining to us the anatomical details, or hand out new postures that we are not ready for. The best Ashtanga teachers will encourage or even force us to stop there, give us minimal guidance, and ask us to do it ourselves. This, in my humble opinion, is the role of the Mysore style Ashtanga teacher, and the correct application of the method.</p>
<p style="text-align: justify;"><strong>Other language translations</strong></p>
<ul>
<li style="text-align: justify;">The <strong>Russian</strong> translation of this article can be found <a href="http://ashtangayoga.club/texts/73" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">here.</a> Thank you to Anna Glinko for the Russian translation.</li>
</ul>
</div><div class="fusion-clearfix"></div></div></div></div></div><div class="fusion-fullwidth fullwidth-box fusion-builder-row-6 nonhundred-percent-fullwidth non-hundred-percent-height-scrolling" style="--awb-border-radius-top-left:0px;--awb-border-radius-top-right:0px;--awb-border-radius-bottom-right:0px;--awb-border-radius-bottom-left:0px;--awb-margin-top:60px;--awb-margin-bottom:60px;--awb-flex-wrap:wrap;" ><div class="fusion-builder-row fusion-row"><div class="fusion-layout-column fusion_builder_column fusion-builder-column-6 fusion_builder_column_1_2 1_2 fusion-one-half fusion-column-first" style="--awb-bg-size:cover;width:50%;width:calc(50% - ( ( 4% ) * 0.5 ) );margin-right: 4%;"><div class="fusion-column-wrapper fusion-column-has-shadow fusion-flex-column-wrapper-legacy"><div class="fusion-button-wrapper"><a class="fusion-button button-flat fusion-button-default-size button-default fusion-button-default button-3 fusion-button-default-span fusion-button-default-type" target="_self" href="https://spaciousyoga.com/ashtanga-immersion-course/"><span class="fusion-button-text awb-button__text awb-button__text--default">Ashtanga Immersion course with Iain in Ubud, Bali</span><i class="fa-angle-right fas awb-button__icon awb-button__icon--default button-icon-right" aria-hidden="true"></i></a></div><div class="fusion-clearfix"></div></div></div><div class="fusion-layout-column fusion_builder_column fusion-builder-column-7 fusion_builder_column_1_2 1_2 fusion-one-half fusion-column-last" style="--awb-bg-size:cover;width:50%;width:calc(50% - ( ( 4% ) * 0.5 ) );"><div class="fusion-column-wrapper fusion-column-has-shadow fusion-flex-column-wrapper-legacy"><div class="fusion-button-wrapper"><a class="fusion-button button-flat fusion-button-default-size button-default fusion-button-default button-4 fusion-button-default-span fusion-button-default-type" target="_self" href="https://spaciousyoga.com/morning-mysore-practice/"><span class="fusion-button-text awb-button__text awb-button__text--default">Daily Mysore practice with Iain in Ubud, Bali</span><i class="fa-angle-right fas awb-button__icon awb-button__icon--default button-icon-right" aria-hidden="true"></i></a></div><div class="fusion-clearfix"></div></div></div></div></div></p>
<p>The post <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com/you-stop-there-lessons-from-sharath-jois/">“You Stop There” Lessons from Sharath Jois and Reflections on the Mysore Method</a> appeared first on <a href="https://spaciousyoga.com">Spacious Yoga</a>.</p>
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