Break Throughs

Last week I spent six days in Miami to study with a teacher that’s new to me — Tim Feldmann. I’ve known of Tim for many years, but just hadn’t met or practiced with him until last month when he came to teach at our shala here in Nashville. Upon meeting him I was struck by his warmth and his friendly nature and then I was further impressed when I saw the graceful way in which he carried that warmth with him into the Mysore room. He made efforts to connect with every student in the room in a meaningful way specific to their needs and disposition, which he did amazingly well, especially considering most of them he was engaging with for the first time. As the morning went on I knew that I did, indeed, want to learn more from Tim and thanks to the incredible community of teachers that have become part of Ashtanga Nashville, as soon as I even mentioned this desire to them, they said “go! we’ve got your back”. So, I booked a flight almost immediately and a couple weeks later I had the good fortune to find myself in Miami with Tim.

It was a splendid week of practice, study and reflection. Tim worked with me in areas of my practice that bring up my most fervent reactions of fear and aversion. I felt seen and supported by him and his team (who are awesome, btw) and I left Miami feeling uplifted, inspired and energized — which is so helpful to me as I work to keep my spirit and energy up for teaching Mysore five hours a day, and patience on as we slowly build the community here in Nashville.

Probably the most poignant interaction came on day five, when Tim was working with me on some deep backbending, which has long been an area of high fear and avoidance. It just makes me want to run and I have, hard and fast, for many years, to the point where I had convinced myself of two things: (1) it wasn’t for me — I’m too old and too stiff; and (2) that it wasn’t important — there’s no need for me to do this acrobatic stuff to bring some sort of elevated process to my practice. But, 2019 has been a big year for me in many ways. First and foremost being that I’ve pushed myself to face up to a pretty big demon — the fact that I don’t think I’m “good enough”. Not smart enough, not studied enough, not practiced enough, not young enough, just “not enough”. And when I go to do postures like kapotasana or drop back, all that fear and loathing loads itself up on my chest and I tighten up.

So, on day five, Tim stops me and says, as best I recall, “man, your work ethic is so strong and you know, that is so admirable and you have used it to go so far, but I think for you, now, just before you move into the posture back off a little bit, drop into the subtle and trust in yourself”. It was a pratibha moment for me — a flash of illumination. And flashes of other teachers giving me similar guidance came rushing in — in particular from the last time I sat with my Buddhist teacher, Tokpa Tulku, in Kathmandu. After an hour long conversation about my practice (emphasis on seated meditation practice in this case), just as we were about to part, he looked at me and said “Be gentle with yourself.” I think I get it this time. There was something very special about the way, place, and moment with Tim that felt deeply revealing. Here’s hoping….

Am I too old and stiff? No, actually, I’m not. Is it important to do this? Well, for me, in this moment, yes, I think it is. The postures are a sacred gateway to the most subtle aspects of ourselves and, wait for it… the universe. LOL, seriously, I know that sounds all fufu, but the thing is, this body we have right now, in this world, is all we’ve got. It’s our vehicle for exploration, figuring things out, working through our challenges, and seeing who we really ARE. It’s a precious opportunity and, I for one, am here to take advantage of it!

The Burning Flame of Yoga

“Who are you and what have you done with my body!?!”. 

That’s what went through my mind a couple weeks ago when I stepped on the mat. Here in Nashville it’s been a super hot and humid summer right up through this past full moon – and my body likes that. Then Sunday was the full moon and the weather shifted big time. The temperature dropped 20 degrees and the humidity was sucked right out of the air. I usually do go through a rough shift with the transition from Summer to Fall, but this was like “WHOA!”.

That said, there’s never been a time that I regretted getting myself to the mat. Sure, sometimes practice may not have the zest it does on a “good” day, but it’s not about that. It’s about honoring a commitment I’ve made to myself to show up for something that I know in my heart moves me closer to my true self.

The first pada (chapter) of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras is titled “Samadhi Pada” because it provides us with information on the end game – the 8th limb – enlightenment or samadhi. The Sanskrit word “sama” is the root of our English word “same” and in yogic context indicates a state of equilibrium, integrity and balance. “Dhi” is root of “dhyana” meaning meditation or aligning one’s energy with that of Iśvara (God or our highest Self). Samadhi is a state of cognitive absorption wherein the yogi is able to experience and tap into the consciousness we all share and know the consequences of his actions, clean up his karma, and end the cycle of samsara (birth – life – death).

Wow, OK, so that’s quite a thing. And we learn as we progress through the sutras that a lot of time, energy and effort must be put forth (by most of us) to get anywhere close to dropping into this state. 

Why do we do it? What would propel us continue, day after day, to show up on the mat and move through these postures? Important questions to ask ourselves now and again. Checking in to be sure we’re staying the course for the “right” reasons. Reasons that are deeply personal and can really only be known within ourselves.

There is a grouping of three sutras (1.20 – 1.22) that give us some inkling of what it takes. What it takes to show up. I find these motivating and uplifting because they hit on concepts and feelings that I can detect within myself. A motivation to practice grounded in devotion, love and respect for those who’ve come before me.

The first is 1.20:  

śraddhā vīrya smriti samādhi prajñā pūrvakah itareshām

Others (meaning those that need a path) follow a five-fold systematic path of 

1) faithful certainty in the path, 2) directing energy towards the practices, 

3) repeated memory of the path and the process of stilling the mind, 

4) training in deep concentration, and 5) the pursuit of real knowledge, 

by which the higher samadhi (asamprajnata samadhi) is attained.

It gives us a five-fold system to help us stay on the path. Śraddha is faith – a faithful certainty in the path itself as a vehicle toward yoga, toward liberation from samsara. Virya is energy – the burning fire in the belly of tapas to get up and go, surrender to the method, to the path, overcome fears, trust in the teachings, let go of doubts, and stay on it. Smriti is memory – recalling the peace that comes from doing the work, from engaging in right effort. Samadhi is absorption – the training in deep concentration that enables one to continue making decisions and directing his actions toward steadiness on the path. And finally, prajna or intuition – that inner gut feeling that this is worthwhile, that it’s leading us somewhere within ourselves that resides in freedom – and giving ourselves permission to abide there. 

Abide there… avasthanam – one of my favorite Sanskrit terms. It comes from Yoga Sutra 1.3. Sutra 1.2 gives us an initial and profound understanding of yoga. It says “yogash citta vrtti nirodah” – yoga is the stilling (nirodah) of the activity (thoughts /vrtti) on the field of the mind (citta). But, why would we do that? It’s not just so we can be “calm”. It’s so we can abide there and connect with Supreme Consciousness: tada drastr svarupe avasthanam – then the SEER can abide in its essence. You know longer question who you are or why you’re here – you know and it sticks.

The second motivating sutra is 1.21:  

tīvra samvegānām āsannah

Those who pursue their practices with intensity of feeling, vigor, and firm conviction 

achieve concentration and the fruits thereof more quickly, 

compared to those of medium or lesser intensity.

Here he affirms that is does make a difference how you approach practice. Simply showing up is a crucial first step. From there, the level of engagement we put forth does matter. The Buddhist 8-fold path includes an element that I like to draw from here. That element is “right effort”. It’s part of the mental discipline required to keep up the practice. We can think of it as the energetic will to prevent unwholesome states of mind from arising, to be rid of such states that have already come up within one’s self, to bring on wholesome states of mind not yet arisen, and to develop the good and wholesome states of mind already present. So, if we couple that with Patanjali’s guidance – the energy behind that will is to carry an intensity of feeling, vigor and firm conviction – drawing from the faith, fire, memory, absorption and intuition we cultivate. Stoking the driving forces behind our determination to uphold this commitment to yoga, to ourselves, that we have made.

And not being sidetracked when something doesn’t “feel good” or even when we are injured in some way. When I think of injury as an excuse not to practice, I call John Bultman to mind. The guy shattered his femur and was laid up in a hospital bed in India and he still practiced! Yes, it was significantly modified, but he could still breathe, he could still visualize and he could build day by day to get back to his mat. A year later he’s back out there rockin’ 4thseries. https://youtu.be/oVsu3ROR9No

The third sutra is Patanjali’s way of hammering it home. 1.22 says:  

mridu madhyā adhimātratvāt tato ‘ api viśeshah

For those with intense practices and intense conviction (1.21), 

there are three more subdivisions of practice, those of 

mild intensity, medium intensity, and intense intensity.

As if it wasn’t enough to say you gotta commit, you gotta show up, you gotta have faith and vigor, he adds that that vigor can grow in its intensity.

INTENSE INTENSITY. AAAHHHHH!!! Oh yeah, bring IT! Sometimes I just wanna strip off my clothes, give up everything I own, run out into the forest and go full-on yogi. That’s what this says to me. It’s the babas that wander the earth naked, speak, sleep and eat very little, practice often, warm themselves at night by the campfire, cover themselves in ash, wash it off in the Ganga, and always keep their minds on God. When my practice hits a lull, there are a few main inspirations I pull from. Hanuman – the pinnacle of love, humility and devotion; my teachers, who strive to develop intense intensity and still remain here for us; and the babas that I sat with in Haradwar at the Kumbh Mela in 2010. Many might look and them and see crazy, I saw the burning flame of yoga.

The Essence of Asana

We are engulfed by a turbulent and fast-paced culture wherein constant movement – sometimes mind, sometimes body, sometimes both - has become the norm. Most of us exist somewhere within and between where we’ve been and where we’re going, with seemingly very limited opportunity to just be. We’ve always got to be “doing” something. Modern yoga culture is often an extension on this theme – feeding this need for movement – for doing.

“Yoga is not something you DO, it’s something you ARE.”

― David Life, Jivamukti Yoga

Vinyasa is a word borrowed from the Sanskrit language and like all words from this ancient vibrational root language it is steeped in context and requires some consideration to unpack. At its essence it means to place in a special – mindful, purposeful, conscious –  way.

“Action is movement with intelligence. The world is filled with movement. 

What the world needs is more conscious movement, more action.”

― B.K.S. Iyengar, Light on Life

To make it conscious there needs to be an element of stillness – of arrival to a destination, even if just for a moment. Without some recognition and understanding of this concept (arrival = destination = stillness), a critical piece of the vinyasa practice is missing and it is exactly what many struggle with most – stillness.

One doesn’t have to dig all that deep to find guidance on this topic from the great sage and authority on the practice of yoga – Patanjali. The Yoga Sutras are organized into four padas (or chapters) containing individual short sutras (aphorisms) that lend themselves to deep conjecture and meditation. 

Below is a collection of sutras that I feel deftly lay out the connection between the movement practice (asana) and the stillness practice (meditation: dharana, dhyana) it is intended to cultivate. Commonly we compartmentalize these two aspects of practice. It is my hope that this discussion will enable and deepen the integration of asana and meditation within your experience on the mat.

2.46  sthira sukham āsanam

Meditation begins when the posture (asana) becomes steady, stable, still 

and lends itself to a sense of ease and awareness within (comfort). 

This is the first of three sutras that specifically call out asana – the third of the eight limbs of yoga. Asana postures are akin to the Buddha striking the immovable spot under the Bodhi tree wherein enlightenment came to him. As stated by Mary Reilly Nichols, asana practice involves “symmetrically moving your body in such a way as to apprehend the unity behind duality”. We humans are constantly vacillating between poles – what we like and don’t like, want and don’t want, hot and cold, up and down, hungry and full, and so on…. As Ms. Nichols notes, this concept of duality shows up on the mat as well. We can make use of this by engaging the end points (or opposite poles – dvandvas) of duality within the body in order to transcend the opposites and settle into the middle or bindu - seed of stability and ease.

Asana means seat or connection to the earth. When one develops a sound connection to the earth the intention of this sutra is realized and it becomes much easier to explore the meditative end of our 8-limb spectrum. And even though most Buddhists don’t ascribe to yoga asana as a practice, there is strong correlation between this sutra and the Buddha dharma. Chokyni Rinpoche, in his book “Open Heart, Open Mind”, includes a section titled “Posture” wherein he writes “One way (to start minding our bodies) is to begin practice by assuming, if we’re able to, a physical posture that is comfortable and stable.” I often tell students that a main reason for doing the asana practice is to develop and maintain that ability to enter into such a physical posture. And one incredibly useful way to elevate the asana practice is to begin to bring that ability into each asana as we move through a vinyasa practice. Find the dhyana wherever and whenever we can.

2.47  prayatna shaithilya ananta samapattibhyam

By relaxing or loosening of effort and allowing attention to merge with the 

infinite consciousness asana is perfected. 

It is through our repeated, devoted commitment to comprehend the subtle movements of our body and breath that we gain the ability to let go and settle into our energetic, emotional, intellectual and ultimately spirit bodies (koshas). Again, Ms. Nichols put it well when she said, “Samadhi is a profound cessation of tension (emotional, psychological).”

So often we may wonder, have I experienced samadhi? Not an easy question to answer; however, if we consider Ms. Nichols definition, it seems quite possible that this is exactly what happens when we’re able to settle into the rhythm of vinyasa and truly link movement with moments of cessation and breath. It may very well be that unknown glimpses of the samadhi state are what keep us coming back. This may be especially true in the mid-stages of the development of one’s practice. Once we start to understand what’s happening within us, then we want to go deeper.

2.48  tatah dvandva anabhighata

From the attainment of that perfected posture, there arises an unassailable, unimpeded freedom from suffering that is otherwise caused by the pairs of opposites (such as heat and cold, good and bad, or pain and pleasure) that exist in our material world.  

The opposites reflect the ends of our experience we seek to balance in all aspects of our lives. Otherwise we vacillate continuously between the grasping for pleasure (raga) and the running from pain (dveśa). The processes represented here through establishment of seat, relaxation of effort and relinquishment of suffering, open the door toward cessation of thought and equanimity of mind. This applies on a continuum of experience from gross to subtle. It’s near impossible to do any of these things when the mind and body are wrapped in suffering, hence the importance of asana to develop and maintain an able body. And not just that, but also to work through suffering and gain a more equanimous view on suffering itself. Asana practice is not without pain — and with a discerning mind, one can learn to navigate the pain to avoid causing one’s self harm, while at the same time lessening the grip that suffering has on mind and body.

3.1 deśah bandhah chittasya dharana

Concentration (dharana) is the process of holding or fixing the attention of mind onto one 

object or place, and is the sixth of the eight limbs of Yoga. 

That one object or place can reside within our body. The dvandvas created by our bodies may serve as fertile ground for steadying our attention through the focus on posture, breath, bandhas, and drishti (looking place or gaze) — drawing inward toward the midpoint, the bindu, the immovable spot. Once we’re there, the trick becomes staying there….

3.2 tatra pratyaya ekatanata dhyanam

The repeated continuation, or uninterrupted stream of that one point of focus is called meditation (dhyana), and is the seventh of the eight limbs. 

Repeatedly coming back to the focal point, be it the state of the asana, the breath, the bandhas, or some merging of them all, meditation is awareness in motion. We don’t have to parse out the limbs, we can bring them all together into the thing many of us love most – breath and purposeful movement – vinyasa.


Mary Reilly Nichols, 2017. Podcast. http://www.fivetattvas.com/chitheads1/mary-reilly-nichols

Śavāsana - Take Rest!

Shava (शव, Śava) = corpse

Asana (आसन, Āsana) = posture, seat

Shavasana (शवासन, Śavāsana) = corpse posture

You enter the room, roll out your mat, move and breathe for an hour or more and then, bam, lay down and stop moving. For some it’s a welcome relief, for others a dreaded waste of time and for many it can be quite challenging. I see these reactions — and varying states in between — every day. So, wherever you fall on this spectrum, you’re not alone. Regardless your reaction, it happens, and so I’m hoping it will prove meaningful to explore….

Why do we do it? 

Śavāsana is a time to balance out the energy and benefits from all the effort you’ve expended on the mat. When the asana practice that precedes it is done with thoughtful, purposeful movement and alignment we are giving ourselves the opportunity to undo patterns of thought and being that are not beneficial and replace them with ones that are. At the end of this time of right effort, our body and mind need and thrive from the opportunity to assimilate the healthy aspects and let go of the unnecessary parts.

This takes on greater meaning when we consider that we are working with five bodies (koshas), not just one. Typically we may just be thinking that we have one body — the physical body, which in yoga speak is called annamaya kosha meaning “food body”. In addition to that we have an energetic body (pranamaya kosha), emotional body (manamaya kosha), intellectual body (ajñamaya kosha) and a spiritual body (anandamaya kosha). Each of these is effected by every experience we have. The asana practice is a time wherein we are given the opportunity to set-up the conditions to take only those actions that support the health and wellbeing of all five bodies. This is part of the reason why it is so important to thoughtfully select the environment in which you practice to eliminate distractions and preoccupations of the body and mind and facilitate focus.

By turning our awareness inward we can increase our ability to perceive what’s going on within us and develop something called interoception. Interoception is insight on the physiological condition of the body and is associated with the autonomic nervous system and autonomic motor control. The autonomic nervous system is in control of the normally unconscious and automatic bodily functions like breathing, the heartbeat, and the digestive processes. With repetition, a cornerstone of yoga practice, we can then become better at tapping into what is going on within us and better deal with the stresses of life. It’s a rewiring of the nervous system that supports steady engagement in the world.

How do we do it?

We get into the posture by lying flat on our back, taking the legs apart about the width of the mat (wider of shorter depending on your body size), allowing the legs to relax, externally rotate and the feet roll out, laying the arms out to the side about eight to ten inches from the body with the palms facing up and the hands open. (Side note, a way to maintain alertness is to actively outstretch the fingers since we tend to keep our hands somewhat closed in a protective way similar to the way we tend to close in around our hearts). The shoulders should be dropped down and away from the ears and the head resting flat with a slight tilt toward the chest. Lie face up with eyes closed and breath on automatic.

You may find it beneficial to purposefully bring tension to the muscles and then release into the resting state. Those of you familiar with Ashtanga know that at the end of the practice we take three seated postures, the first two of which are in a fairly relaxed state and then the very last one we lift up (utplithi) and contract most all the muscles of the body as a means of drawing our energy inward and upward in a focused, conscious manner. We do this in preparation to then let go and relax into a resting state.

Remain in this still state until your breath and heart rate become relaxed, ideally for ten minutes or more (some say five minutes for every 30 minutes of practice). Now, due to the impatience of Westerners and the accelerated pace at which we’re living our lives, classes keep getting shorter leaving limited time for this resting element of the practice. So, we try and get at least five minutes, more when possible.

While in śavāsana we remain relaxed but awake maintaining a level of mindful awareness and detachment — observing the thoughts, feelings and sensations of the mind and body without attaching to them and turning them into something more. It is a conscious asana where you are fully awake and deeply relaxed at the same time, which is not always an easy balance to attain.

Upon conclusion of śavāsana it’s important not to just jump up and go, but rather take a few breaths to begin moving the body and making one’s way off the mat.

Digging Deeper…

The Hatha Yoga Pradipika says that “Like a house protecting one from the heat of the sun, Hatha Yoga protects its practicer from the burning heat of the three tapas.” The three tapas refers to the physical, environmental/natural, and spiritual challenges/sufferings we face as we move through life on the path of yoga. Asana practice is a method for building and developing a strong, steady, and able house for ourselves. A house that serves to protect the yogi, keep him sure-footed, and protect him from the pains of life. Sometimes by overcoming or preventing/avoiding unnecessary pain and sometimes by enabling one to deal with the pain and carry on.

Physical pain refers to the ebbs and flows encountered by our bodies. Disease, illness, emotional and mental anxieties, depression, injury and so on - the myriad of challenges we all face at various points in our lives. The environmental pains come from the unpredictable, uncontrolled continually changing earth — flood, drought, earthquake, intense heat and cold. These natural disruptions wreak havoc on the body and mind. Then comes the spiritual hardships, all of which are grounded in avidya (yogic dirt) the confusion and grasping to make this temporary house — our bodies — a permanent identity. It’s the ego driven lack of understanding and acceptance of impermanence that supercedes all of this. “Living without realization of the inner being”, according to Swami Mukitbodhananda. It’s on all three of these levels that the śavāsana resting practice becomes critical for allowing the full benefit of our efforts to transpire.

What happens on a physiological level?

Each and everyone of us started off as a single cell. That cell began dividing to form an embryo consisting of three types of tissue:  endoderm, mesoderm and ectoderm. The endoderm formed our internal organs, the mesoderm our bones and other connective tissues, and the ectoderm became our largest organ - our skin. Interestingly though, the ectoderm also formed our nervous system thereby linking our outermost physical form with the innermost. In his book on anatomy, Ashtanga Yoga Teacher, David Keil, writes “The nervous system embodies the connection of mind and body. Nerves reach from deep within the protected layers of the spine and skull to make their way throughout the body, getting into every nook and cranny. The nerves send information to the body and receive information via the brain/mind on all the activity going on in the system. Thus, the mind and body are one, plain and simple.”

Śavāsana is a time to allow that communication to consciously turn the body off, stop movement and allow the rates of respiration, blood pressure, and brain activity to decrease. Muscular and skeletal tension is consciously relaxed. Over a longer śavāsana, muscular tension may expose and release deeper layers of stress in the muscles.

What happens on an energetic level?

During the asana practice we are working to direct, gather and contain our prana - our lifeforce and send it up sushumna nadi (the main energetic channel that runs the length of our spine). Conscious, steady work with breath and bandhas (energetic locks) are a means of conducting this effort. When we get to śavāsana we let go of all that internal energy work and allow it to disperse evenly throughout the body. It’s my feeling that this is a felt experience - this is the hallmark of the resting state that brings a sense of renewal and vitality as we rise again and carry on with our lives.

A funny little glitch in this discussion comes when we dig a bit deeper into the true meaning of the word śavāsana. A corpse is stiff. The body without breath, without prana, experiences rigor mortis and stiffens. So, the 5th and 6th series of Ashtanga (which very few humans on the planet have managed to attain) actually include a posture wherein one lies flat on the mat and tightens up the body. This is considered by some to be the true practice of śavāsana. So, when you take class with an Astanga teacher, instead of instructing corpse pose, they may very well just say “take rest” and this is why. 

What happens on a spiritual level?

Śavāsana provides an opportunity to explore the fifth limb of yoga — pratyahara. Pratyahara is a purposeful withdrawing from the senses and gaining mastery over the external pull of the outer material world. It's through repeated attempts at going in - wherever we can cultivate it - that we develop the ability to move beyond the kleśas (the forces that corrupt the mind:  ignorance of our true nature, unhealthy ego, attachment to what we like, aversion to what we don't, and clinging to life) and toward yoga (samadhi, enlightenment, peace, equanimity).

There may also be an element of Iśvara pranidhanani — one of three components of kriya yoga and one of the five niyamas) — this is the concept of letting go. Surrendering some part of yourself to the greater whole. Giving yourself over to the process and over time cultivating a level of faith that allows you to be exactly where you are.

Another way that I’ve experienced this posture — a way that I found inspiring — is as taught by Jivamukti Yoga co-founder, David Life. David takes it to a deeply spiritual place by conjuring up samsara — the cycle of birth, life and death that we are all experiencing in this body. It was born, it’s currently alive and it will die. Most people shy away from discussion, recognition and contemplation of this last, inevitable phase of life, but not the yogi. For the yogi, like śavāsana, it is quite possibly the most important phase upon which to focus because it provides the possibility of final liberation (nirvana or kaivalya) and the release of one’s spirit from samsara. So, David would say that each time we rest in śavāsana at the end of our practice is an opportunity to let go of some aspect of ourselves (hala hala - the poisons of the mind) and get up off the mat lighter and more prepared for that final stage — death — because whatever we don’t resolve, we take forward with us into the next cycle.

Practice

Just like other aspects of yoga practice, your experience of śavāsana may ebb and flow with the changes in your life. Some days it may be easier and/or feel more beneficial than others. That’s OK. Give yourself permission to roll with it and take this time to relax and recharge.

Ashtanga - Patanjali’s Eight Limbed Practice

I started practicing yoga in 2002 because 9/11 happened, my abusive relationship ended, a patch of hair fell out on the side of my head, and I was trying to stop using drugs. You know, that’s all, no big deal….

It’s incredible really, what we’ll turn to when life is falling apart. Thankfully, a friend was there for me who said, “come with me to yoga”. I had been studying a bit of Buddhism for a few years at that point and I knew there was some element of meditation common between the two disciplines, and that there was a focus on specific movement with breath, but that was about it. So, my friend suggested I do a short introduction course at The Integral Yoga Institute on W. 13th St, so I did. I don’t recall a lot about it, but I do remember that on the first visit there was not much movement, a lot of breathing, a woman in white with a turban, and dim lights — and it helped me. I left feeling “better” every time. So, after that course, Boden said, “OK, now come with me to Jivamukti, Sharon’s teaching on Saturday”. And we went. I remember quite a lot about that experience — mainly that it was one of the hardest physical activities I’d ever done, I sweat bullets, Sharon’s presence was powerful, AND she started class with a PETA video that left me shocked, offended, sad, and confused. I remember thinking, “what the heck does this have to do with yoga?!”.

Now, this is not a blog about veganism, but on reflection, I am pretty blown away that this was the experience I had because it truly does feel as if it were meant for me. The universe at work, so to speak. Because all of that played out in such a way that spoke to me, challenged me (and I respond to challenge), and motivated me to want to understand. Right from the start these initial experiences with yoga teaching showed me that there was A LOT more to yoga than postures.

And for me, this is where Patanjali and the eight limbs come in. Approximately fifteen hundred years ago this sage compiled what is called ashtanga (ashta = 8; anga = limb) yoga. He took information that had been handed down for centuries through precise Sanskrit chanting and codified it in written form providing us a guidebook for practice. The first chapter describes what yoga is and the second tells us how to practice it. The second chapter, or “pada”, is titled “Sadhana Pada” because sadhana is the word for practice — a committed spiritual discipline. Mid way through this chapter practice is laid out in an eight component form:

2.29  yama-niyamasana-pranayama-pratyahara-dharana-dhyana-samadhayo ‘stavangani

The eight limbs (angas) are abstentions/restraints, observances, posture, breath control, 

inward turning of the senses, concentration, meditation, and absorption.

These limbs provide a path — a guidebook to developing one’s yogic potential — but, it’s not a straight line and varies amongst us in terms of how it works in our lives. Each of these limbs contributes to the overall practice while also existing independently as a practice unto its own. The key is recognizing and remembering that there is a common purpose underlying them all:  attaining spiritual liberation — remembering our true nature.

There are a few key points about these limbs that I relish:

1. The limbs offer something for everyone to take on as a practice: you don’t have to practice asana (posturing) to be a yogi! I do it because I love it, plain and simple. I feel that it has served as a means for me to explore, understand and who I am and sometimes even overcome who I cling to being (in terms of this temporary physical form). That said, the other limbs provide fertile ground for integrating practice throughout my life and that continues to evolve and take on greater importance and meaning as time passes.

2. The limbs are taking us somewhere we already ARE! There is nothing wrong or lacking in you — it’s just that we lack awareness of our true nature. Yoga can serve as a means to realize this and sometimes that yoga happens through breath work (pranayama), sometimes through meditation (dhyana), and sometimes through being a good person in the world (yamas), and so on….

3. The limbs benefit from community. It’s hard to go it alone. Even monks live in a monastery with other monks. Community provides a foundation of support, encouragement and reality-check that helps keep us alive in practice.

At the end of the day, I’m grateful for many things related to what yoga has brought to my life — but, most of all, I’m grateful it’s connected me in a positive uplifting way to so many of you. Thank you.

A Moving Meditation

Being still is a challenge for most of us and the idea of purposely sitting without moving to try and “meditate” can bring up all sorts of resistance. The mind introduces a bijillion reasons why we should, even need, to do something else. It’s one of those things that we’re pretty sure is good for us, but often struggle to actually do. One of the most helpful meditation instructions I’ve ever received was “you don’t have to actually DO anything”. OK, that helps, but it’s still pretty difficult….

This is where the asana (postural, 3rd limb of ashtanga) practice comes to our rescue. It gives us something to do with the body — purposeful movement that can become a tool for the practice of meditation.

There are many ways to approach practice and many mind states that can accompany us on our approach. The body we bring to the mat reflects, in many ways, those mind states. Yoga philosophy describes layers of mind with manas mind being ground level. It’s the organizing, list-making, get-stuff-done side of our minds. Not all that sophisticated in comparison to higher mind states – it’s the part of our minds that interferes most frequently with our efforts to work with, calm and even control the mind.

Yoga Sutra 1.2 (yogash citta vritti nirodah) tells us that yoga is just that – mind control. “Control” can set off alarm bells within us. It can seem rigid, authoritarian, dominating, even sexist. This is Interesting in and of itself because it demonstrates how quickly and easily our mind can close in on something, get distracted, bogged down and stuck. So, it can help to ease up, not get hung up by the shortcomings of the English language, and recognize that it’s meant to suggest that we cultivate a helpful, personal, supportive, cooperative partnership with the mind to allow it to ease up and accept the space, freedom and peace that underlies it — the background.

Asana means seat or connection to the earth. Knowing, feeling, and establishing the foundation in each posture is essential to the practice of yoga. This gives the manas mind something to do. It reels it in, settles it down, and allows us to move into a higher state of consciousness known as “buddhi” or intellect (and potentially beyond).

Posturing is a means to wrangle with and focus the mind. It starts from the gross level – e.g., where do I put my feet? And moves toward the subtle – e.g., is my pelvic floor engaged? This process of moving from gross to subtle and understanding the aspects therein, is not a fast one. It takes patience, persistence, will power, devotion, motivation, and curiosity. In “The Supreme Continuity” Maitreya (the future Buddha) says, when describing enlightenment, “Since it is to be realized through self-awareness, it is not realized through external conditions.” This hammers home the necessity of going within and the utility of the postures as meditative objects to direct one’s mind toward a state of openness. This may render it free of conditions – free of the influence of emotion and thought – free of suffering. 

We tend to sell ourselves short when it comes to our ability to meditate. We get it in our heads that to meditate means we have to sequester ourselves to a cushion for hours at a time without moving and without thinking. But, the mind control work happens in other ways. In ways that hold great value for unleashing our best selves – our self that is filled with compassion, wisdom and peace.  

“Our own natural awareness merely has to recognize its own nature. 

Nothing is done, but something is seen.”

– a quote from the Tara’s Triple Excellence program 

https://dharmasun.org/tte/

Ashtanga Nashville Is About Much More

Ashtanga Nashville is about so much more than a physical practice and is committed to cultivating an environment that supports practice through all the eight limbs. A yoga home where we feel welcome and supported throughout life’s stages and where we receive connection and support from this new and growing community.

It’s important to me that folks don’t leave the shala feeling down because they didn't do their quote-unquote “full” practice or because their practice isn’t as athletic or graceful, etc as those around them. I never want anyone to feel guilty for putting their family first - ahead of stepping onto the mat. I never want anyone to put friends, family, and connecting to one another, aside. Yoga can provide a path to reducing other-ness and doing away with the separateness that we put between ourselves and others. It’s that separation that results in so much suffering, so much turmoil, so much struggle, and so much strife in the world.

To maintain a practice takes sacrifice, commitment and effort. It comes with the territory whether it be sitting on a cushion or doing postures or chanting mantras, or whatever your contemplative practice looks like. It may mean we have to give something else up to make that space in our life, but if it causes shame, guilt, ill-will, or feelings of failure then we need to look at setting reasonable intentions around practice and honor the other aspects of our life. It's a balance that we work to strike to be able to maintain this commitment, but not at the expense of what the practice is ultimately intended to do.

As a community we can serve each other by acting as one another’s sounding boards, accountability supports, and also reality checkers to help us maintain perspective on life and let this practice bring joy and peace and a good mindset to our our lives and are being in the world.

Ashtanga means eight limbs. Ashta is eight and anga means limb (or component of). Ashtanga Nashville is a yoga school that is devoted to the study and practice of the eight limbs of yoga. One of the things that I love so much about this practice is that those limbs include family, friends, your well-being, your mind state, and all the possible ways we can bring practice into our lives.

Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras

2.29  yama-niyamasana-pranayama-pratyahara-dharana-dhyana-samadhayo ‘stavangani

The eight limbs (angas) are abstentions/restraints, observances, posture, breath control, 

inward turning of the senses, concentration, meditation, and absorption.

Yamas provide an ethical foundation. They offer concise direction on how to behave toward others and are rooted in ahimsa, which is the Sanskrit word for not harming. Niyamas provide ways to nurture our self that range from general hygiene and healthy diet to study of uplifting sacred texts to surrendering our struggles through a process of letting go. Together the yamas and niyamas provide an outer framework for cultivating a body, mind and environment that is suitable for the remaining six limbs.

Asana means seat or connection to the earth. I like use of the term “posturing” in reference to our Ashtanga practice because it conjures up the movement and breath approach we take to vinyasa. The body provides us a way of accessing the mind. 

This limb gets all the glory when it comes to yoga. When you stop someone on the street and ask them what yoga is they’re most likely going to reference the posturing. But Ashtanga is a full spectrum practice that starts with how we behave out in the world and then moves toward getting onto our mat. How we act in the world has a big impact on how our practice plays out on the mat. These karmic relationships give us a lot of fodder for work with the mind.

1.2  yogas citta-vrtti-nirodhah  

Yoga is mind work - the effort to suppress the monkey mind.

The limbs go more internal as we progress. Pranayama is the work with the breath and with Ashtanga we incorporate that breathwork right into the posturing work. Pratyahara has to do with withdrawal of our senses. Our senses are amazing tools for bringing in data and they do so nonstop. In our practice we work to use our senses in a different way — turning them inward. 

The remaining three limbs are the meditative group. Dharana is concentration, dhyana is a merging with the object of concentration and samadhi is a shift in perspective that comes. It could be thought of as an enlightened state of mind wherein the connectedness of all things is apparent. 

We do bring the meditative limbs into our asana practice — even if we don’t at first realize this is what’s happening. The repetition and consistency associated with our practice is so valuable because it takes quite some time to work through all the myriad of mind states that present within us as we move through our practice. It takes a long while to move from the gross level mindstuff like “where does my foot go? what did I do with my arm? what's the next posture?” and into the subtle aspects of what's going on underneath all that.

We are spiritual beings in a material body and a material world that is changing every moment and over which we have very very little control. Impermanence scares the bejezus out of us. Yoga can help us learn to become more at ease with this fact of life and to recognize that as we grow older our practice is going to change. One of the things I find so hopeful and so supportive about the eight limbs as part of our Ashtanga Yoga practice is that we will always have something that we can take with us as this body changes. We may go through times where the physical practice is just not as accessible, but some aspect of one of the other limbs is always available and therein we have a practice.

Why I Love The Mysore Room

I was in university for 11 years and three degrees. I spent more hours working in the laboratory (chemistry) than I can count (and certainly more than the university counted…). I loved it. Getting in there and independently researching what was happening inside things we cannot see was exciting for me.

When I committed to the Ashtanga Mysore method of yoga practice it felt like lighting a Bunsen burner – my practice quickly came alive in a new and exciting way. I was back in the laboratory, only this time the lab was inside me. There are so many things going on within us that we are unaware of and disconnected from. Deep seated impressions that we’re carrying forward, stories about who we are. Yoga is a method for gaining self-knowledge that enables us to lessen the grips of these stories and get to the essence of who we truly are. Initially motivated to equip myself with a better understanding of the postures and become more adept at teaching them, the practice has delivered on that front and brought with it so much more.

Not long ago I remarked to someone that I love practice and they asked me why, which led me to write this:

I love the breath, the sound, the rhythm and the sweat. Coming into the room to join with the energy created together is uplifting, supportive and rejuvenating. There has never been a moment when I regretted getting on my mat. I enjoy doing the work. It’s the old “chop wood, carry water” adage that serves as a cornerstone of Buddhist practice (and one of my favorite takeaways from the Bhagavad Gita) – do the work because it’s the right/good/appropriate/mutually beneficial thing to do, not because of the potential end result. Regardless the result we carry on with the work – accepting and evolving with it as things change.

From this daily toil comes another aspect that I love. I love that, if I let it be, the practice is free of doubt – it is a time wherein I do not have to wonder if I’m doing the right thing – faith grows strong. This aspect of practice takes time and repetition, but it does come. And then as soon as we start to get comfortable, a new posture comes along to shake things up. A skilled teacher/student partnership keeps a student working their edge to struggle through positions of discomfort/uncertainty/ego-stirring that are necessary to further one’s self along the path. The struggle is real and if approached in a healthy way leads to great awakenings.

I love the independence of Mysore. Just like those days back in grad school when nearly everything I did was self-motivated, so too is this practice. I’m the one that gets myself to the mat and I’m the one moving myself through the postures. That level of independence is not only life affirming it is fuel for the tapas generating internal fire that is responsible for keeping the devotion to practice stoked. Even when practicing in a room full of people, it’s just me on my mat exploring the inner workings of my being. Drishti (inward looking), posture and breath are all you need.

And on the flip side of that, I love the relationships that form within the community. Strong bonds develop organically that feed the soul – much of it without typical social interactions. It’s more primal – based on a shared energy. Even folks in the room that have only exchanged a few words feel like family. Camaraderie develops simply through showing up. Then when we do come together friendships abound.

Last, but not least, I love teaching Mysore. It is great fun to work with folks in the room — to be a part of your lab experiment. The experiences that have brought us to this point are unique and reflected in how we move, breath and think. To play some role in your efforts to develop knowledge and strength is truly an honor and a privilege and I  approach our time together with compassion, humility, patience, curiosity and respect. It’s so awesome that it’s my job! Thank you and I hope to meet you on the mat soon!

All this brings to mind a sutra (from Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras):

1.14  sa tu dirgha-kala-nairantarya-satkarasevito dridha-bhumih    

Practice is the effort to remain firmly grounded in one’s own Self. It is cultivated over a

long time through constant right effort, reverent and dedicated energy, and great love.

As my good friend Jen René once said to a large group of students,

to maintain this practice “you’ve got to love it!”.

What’s Ashtanga? What’s Mysore?

Can I do it? How do I start?

First off, yes, you can do this. You don’t have to know anything coming in (and if you do, great! We’ll take advantage of that and carry on). The teacher is there to teach — we work with you directly to meet you where you are and together build your yoga practice. Day by day, week by week, year by year — a gradual process that is ultimately yours and yours alone.

I know, it can be a bit intimidating or off-putting because even yoga itself can seem strange or off limits and then we throw additional unfamiliar terms on top of that. So for this Sunday’s blog I thought I’d try and provide some info to help clarify and hopefully make me, the shala and the practice more approachable (and, as always, please feel free to reach out to me directly if you have questions:  hello@ashtanganashville.com).

“Ashtanga” is a breath and movement system designed to build strength, flexibility, and mindfulness. Everyone who practices within this system of yoga starts with the “Primary Series” — a set sequence of postures linked together with movement and breath. “Ashta” means eight, and “anga” means limb of “component/element of” and is drawn from an ancient yoga guidebook known as the “Yoga Sutras”, which describe eight elements of yoga practice that over (a long) time we strive to build into the practice.

“Mysore” is a way of doing Ashtanga. It can be characterized as individual instruction in a group setting. It is much different than the group instructed yoga classes that we’ve all come to associate with yoga. There are set hours, but each person starts and ends their practice on their own time within the set window. So, for example, Ashtanga Nashville’s morning Mysore hours are 6-9am. You can come in at anytime within that window, roll out your mat and start your practice. And when you finish you roll it back up and leave. Your practice can be 20 min or two plus hours — it’s up to you.

On your first day we’ll discuss your prior experience and then get you started with surya namaskara A (sun salutation, see diagram below). We will guide you through it — you don’t need to know anything coming in — and we’ll modify as necessary to work for you. This is the ideal way to learn Ashtanga. 

We may or may not add more depending on various factors specific to you and your experience. Ashtanga consists of six different progressive series of poses; however, it generally takes years to work through the first two, which we refer to as primary and intermediate. These series are structured in 3 sections or parts: (1) standing, (2) middle, and (3) closing. Standing and closing don’t change and we (most) all do them everyday. The middle part is specific to the series you’re working on and it does change as you learn and the practice grows. On your first day we will likely wrap up with the last three seated postures and rest (śavasana). Every Ashtangi starts and ends their practice this way everyday.

Your first few weeks will be more about you learning the sequence of postures and the basic forms and less about the nitty gritty of alignment. And we’ll spend a good amount of time working with your breath. Our aim will be to keep you safe and support you in this process of settling into the rhythm and routine of a daily/consistent Ashtanga practice. We’ll add new postures purposefully and slowly so as not to overwhelm you. It’s a gradual, cooperative, partnership-based process that varies from person to person. We work from the traditional Ashtanga Primary Series using props and modifications of the postures to tailor the practice to you. The more regular you are with your attendance, the stronger your relationships (to the community, the teachers, the practice and yourself) will grow.

*Ashtanga Nashville opens tomorrow! July 15 at 6am. Your first visit this week is FREE - so, c’mon in and give it a try. If you’d like to attend a Led class, just show up. If you’d like to try Mysore, email me at hello@ashtanganashville.com and let’s set a day/time. Visit ashtanganashville.com for more information including the schedule, location, etc.

Our Work Together - My Pledge to You (#3 of 3)

Recently I published a blog on the mantra “saha navavatu” — an expression of respect and commitment on the path to learning and the foundation for the communication of my approach to teaching. I share this humbly and with the hope that it will promote good will for our work together. And I share this as a means to emphasize that Ashtanga Nashville promotes a consent-based environment for the practice of yoga.

Accept/Protect us both together. 

• This is a partnership, not a dictatorship. We’re entering into this quest for yoga in a mutually beneficial and supportive manner. There is no room for power dynamics, except to empower you to stand on your own and gain clarity around that standing.

Nourish us both together. 

• We are inclusive — ALL are welcome. Acceptance, compassion, and loving kindness for one’s self as well as those we’re practicing alongside are key to sustaining this partnership, and these traits are ultimately what will lift us all up.

• This is intended to be a sacred space wherein we are free to explore what’s happening within ourselves without fear of being judged, scrutinized, or criticized. We do this by not taking ourselves too seriously and through acknowledging one another, celebrating our differences, accepting our ups and our downs, and welcoming the laughter and/or tears that sometimes come as the process transforms us.

May we work together with great energy.

• “Great energy” is supportive, positive, devoted, disciplined, freely given, and focused such that it draws us into our senses and creates tapas — suprasensory consciousness/awakeness. In that spirit, practitioners are empowered to:

• speak up, ask questions, and/or say “no,” — especially when something introduces feelings of discomfort, uncertainty, or otherwise does not agree with their view of their own path;

• take control of their own practice — it is YOUR practice, and I encourage assumption of responsibility and initiative with regard to development of it;

• learn from others — I don’t consider myself the end-all-be-all, and I encourage you to explore learning from other teachers.

May our knowledge and strength increase.

• Many of us totally dig the posturing, and that’s great — let’s run with it! But yoga is so much more than posturing. Let’s also remain open to the other seven limbs (ethics, self care, breath, inward sensory exploration, concentration, meditation, and consciousness) and open to the possibility that our interests may shift.

• We will tailor the method to suit the individual, not the other way around. The postures are not molds that you’re to be shoehorned into. When you work with me, we’ll approach each new thing from the perspective of your growth and what will work best to support the development of your practice.

May we not resent one another. 

• Permission and consent are the norm in our practice together. I will offer guidance and adjustments, but you are welcome to decline either. It is your choice, and it’s my intention to empower you to communicate your needs.

• There are no rules, only guidelines. In Ashtanga we’ve been given a structure through which we can develop our respective practices. The structure is not meant to confine us, and it is not useful to apply it strictly and without consideration for our natural differences and limitations.

Peace, peace, peace.

• Purposeful patience is celebrated because this is a long-haul endeavor from doing to being. It comes down to good will, faith, and collaborative effort to cultivate the conditions for you to have a direct experience of something beyond the normal material-based clinging and attachment to bodies, things and experiences that are in constant flux and lacking lasting substance. Practice has the potential to loosen the grip of these forces that typically drive our actions and connect us with our spiritual reality. It’s an experience worth waiting for.

The Power in the Teachings (#2 of 3)

My yoga journey spans nearly two decades and in that time I’ve seen many esteemed teachers (some even referred to as gurus) rise and fall. When confronted with issues that have hit close to home, I’ve worked to ground my reaction in the teachings because I believe that the teachings of yoga hold their merit.

This has meant reflecting on what my experience has brought to my own life and to the lives of countless others that I have practiced alongside over the last eighteen years. It’s meant doing the best I can to lead by example, to uphold sound ethics, and to serve our community. I believe wholeheartedly that yoga can uplift, empower, and transform us — each of us, together.

I practice within Ashtanga Yoga system six days a week and I am a big fan of a vigorous asana practice. However, when I hear/think/say the word “ashtanga” I don’t just think of the physical postural practice, I also think of the eight limbs (ashta = 8, anga = limb) as described by Patanjali in the Yoga Sutras.

Ashtanga Yoga provides a sound platform for our work together and I favor teaching in the Mysore way (self-led with 1:1 teacher-student cooperation); however I don’t believe it needs to adhere to arbitrary strict or rigid rules and I do not approach it as such. We each come to the mat with our own unique experiences that have shaped who we are inside and out and I work to respect that. So, in “my” room, we may get creative when it’s of benefit to the student — if creative means incorporation of research poses, having open and honest reciprocal communication, and using props to enable each of us to take our best posture and move toward a state of meditation.

I’ve long held a personal motto that “if I’m not learning, I may as well be dead”. Sounds a bit harsh, but I suspect you get my drift. And ever since I was a little boy I have been drawn to study. I also hold great respect for my teachers, especially those that respected me in return. When it comes to yoga I’ve had the good fortune to study intensively with some of the most experienced teachers in the world. It was and is my choice to study with them and I have no issue in showing reverence to them, in fact I do so happily. I do feel that such a relationship is an important element of the learning process. I’ve also had the great good fortune to work with many amazing students - students who have felt empowered to speak up when necessary and at times open my eyes to blind spots - some of the best learning yet. It is through the strength of those relationships that I feel empowered to stand on my own two feet and continue to share yoga with others.

Over the coming months and years I intend to continue to study, practice, evolve and change and I’m sure this will be reflected through my own practice and teaching. I believe Ashtanga is an excellent method; however, I also believe that the time has come to assess, recognize and accept where change is needed. We can adapt such that we preserve the value and essence of our practice and teaching. My next blog post will be a pledge - my commitment as a teacher - a part of the effort to cultivate that change….

Us Both Together

Om saha navavatu 

saha nau bhunaktu 

saha viryam karavavahai 

tejasvi navadhitam astu 

ma vidvishavahai 

Om shantih shantih shantih 

Accept/Protect us both together. 

Nourish us both together. 

May we work together with great energy.

May our knowledge and strength increase. 

May we not resent one another. 

Peace, peace, peace.

This invocatory verse, in some form, can be found in both the Taittiriya and the Katha Upanishads, which are both considered mukhya (primary) Upanishads and are embedded within the Krishna Yajurveda. The time of their origination is uncertain, but somewhere around the 1st millenium BCE.

“Let him protect us both, let us exert together; may what we study be well studied, may we not hate.” - Katha Upaniśad

According to the commentary by Sri Sankara, it is chanted for the purpose of removing all faults incurred by the disciple and the preceptor, in the course of receiving and imparting knowledge that may be caused by the disregard for rules due to oversight or excitement.

“May it (the knowledge of Brahman) protect us both. May it make us both enjoy. May we together acquire the capacity for knowledge. May our study be brilliant. May we not hate each other.” - Taittiriya Upaniśad

Sri Sankara states it is chanted to pacify any enmity arising from any fault committed from carelessness by the pupil or the preceptor in the course of obtaining knowledge.

We often chant this mantra in my classes because it serves as a reminder of the sacred nature of the teacher - student relationship. I feel that this mantra encapsulates the essence of our engagement because no matter how hard we try, at the end of the day, we are human beings with the potential for great compassion and also great harm. Through recognizing this, reminding ourselves of this daily, we can strive toward a healthy balanced relationship that avoids negative power dynamics, maintains respect for ourselves and others, and retains independence.

*Check out the “Cory On-line” section of ashtanganashville.com for the audio of this chant.

Our first week in Nashville (aka, the Rainbow Squad)

This past Sunday I went to church. It was the first time in my entire 49 years on this earth that I went because I wanted to and not to appease my parents. The very first time. And to be honest it’s not something I ever anticipated or even wished would happen. But it did and now I’m sitting back a bit in awe at the experience and the recent events that brought me to it.

Many of you know that this past year has been one of planning for our move from DC to Nashville. About two years ago Richard and I decided that it was a change we wanted to make and then we carefully went about laying the groundwork. A big challenge was space. How could I possibly afford the thousands of dollars a month in rent that is the norm for yoga studios in metropolitan areas? And then one day it hit me, maybe I could follow my good friend Maggie Lively’s (of Ashtanga Nation in Arlington, VA) lead and rent space in a church. But, would I want to be in a church? Or, better yet, would they want me?

In my adolescence, when I started to recognize my gayness, it was the church that left me feeling unworthy, sinful, dirty, unwanted, unwelcome and hell bound (good times! LOL). It scared the bejesus out of me and I fought hard to make myself change. I would sequester myself in the bathroom with the Bible and read over and over through the verses that told me I was an abomination and I would plead with God to make me the perfect straight boy I so wanted to be. Nothing happened.

Thankfully, the answer to both my concerns is YES. Yes, I am comfortable being in the church (and locating the shala there) and yes, they want me!

And it is yoga that brought me to this point. In 2001 when I first crossed through the doors of the Integral Yoga Institute on W. 13th St in NYC these barriers to self worth began to crumble. Initially I was in atheist-with-an-interest-in Buddhism mode, as I had been for a few years prior. But, over time, I began to organically feel some sort of connection, some sort of internal spiritual stirring that continued to grow. And I was traveling the globe — mostly for work, but also for fun — encountering Buddhist, Hindu, and Muslim cultures that opened my eyes to possibility. Of course I saw differences between the culture I come from and theirs, but mostly I saw sameness. I saw the shared humanity, love of friends and family, and desire to be happy and free. The potential for God to play some role in my life became more accessible. And in my yoga practice the feelings around that potential were felt — meaning, I allowed myself to experience whatever came up and in doing so discovered a side of myself that had long been buried beneath the pain and fear of being different, of being judged, of being condemned.

Woodland Presbyterian was the first church I explored as a potential home for the shala and the first thing I saw upon opening their website was a statement of inclusion:  “We are an open, inclusive community of faith that welcomes all into the life and leadership of the church regardless of ethnicity, social status, sexual orientation, or gender identity.” This is a Christian church that strives to welcome all. It was such a strong sign to me that we were on the right track. 

In January I flew down to Nashville to check out the space. The pastor was so welcoming, so open, and didn’t bat an eye when I said “my husband”. Several important parallels arose in our discussion, in particular around building community. A symbiosis of sorts seemed clear. It occurred to me that maybe this was another time for me to get out of the way of the flow-of-the-universe and open to the possibility that bigger forces are at play. So, as I opened the door and walked into the space that is becoming the shala, I knew, it was meant to be. It felt right. 

Last weekend we made the move. My family came down from Illinois and helped us move in. It was a coming home of sorts and it felt so good to be together. We’re enjoying our new home, meeting lots of friendly folks, and all around feeling good about the move. And then I received an email from one of the church members about the upcoming Pride weekend. I had forgotten that I purchased Pride T-shirts through the church and didn’t even realize that they were intended to be worn as part of the Presbyterian contingent in the parade! I hadn’t marched in a Pride parade since 1998 in NYC. It truly was remarkable to experience the joy of marching down the street to the cheers of the spectators and leaves me with much to ponder juxtaposed to that day over 20 years ago….

One thing about the parade that stood out was the group that was directly in front of us. It was the “Rainbow Squad” — an LBGT+ group for kids under fourteen. I was mesmerized by them and so proud of them. These youngsters were expressing themselves in whatever way felt natural and they’re parents were cheering them on. It was beautiful. 

And, a couple days prior, I received a text from the pastor asking if we’d be in attendance for the Pride service on Sunday. I still can’t believe how easy it was to reply “yes”. The service was an incredible experience. It had the traditional elements of church service that I do love — the hymns, the prayers, the bible readings, the organ music, the hints of formality — and the part that I had so often dreaded, the sermon. All based in the Christian faith and all with a deliberate effort to ensure inclusivity — a place for everyone at the table. 

As the sermon was delivered emotional upheaval was transpiring within. At times I couldn’t control the tears. I couldn’t stop wondering, “if church had been like this when my friends and I were young, would they still be alive?”. You see most of my closest queer friends were also raised in the church. And four of those friends that were most dear to me are no longer on this earth. All of them taken way before their time — all of unnecessary causes. So many of us turned to drug use quite young as an escape, as a means to liberate our insecurities. But, it is hard to put it away. And as high functioning as we may have been, eventually, it catches up. 

So, I’m going to keep going to church. And I hope that somehow, some way, our actions will contribute to making more Rainbow Squad youngsters feel worthy, loved and equal so that they can walk tall through this world.

Vande Gurunam – Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga Opening Prayer

The world around us is moving at a pretty fast clip, in so many ways. It’s pretty easy to fall into the trap of existing somewhere within and between where we’ve been and where we’re going, with seemingly very limited opportunity to just be. If we’re not conscientious about it, the time on the mat can just turn into yet another aspect of the coming and going. The opening mantra helps stop that from happening. It’s a moment of devotion, in a way that’s special and sacred, to place mind within body, grab the breath, plug into your source, and begin to move with purpose.

vande gurūnām caranāravinde sandarśita 

svātma sukhāvabodhe |

nihśreyase jāngalikāyamāne samsāra

hālāhala mohaśantyai ||

ābāhu purusākāram śankacakrāsi dhārinam |

sahasra śirasam śvetam pranamāmi patañjalim ||

I bow to the lotus feet of the Gurus

The awakening happiness of one’s own self revealed,

Beyond better, acting like the jungle physician,

Pacifying delusion, the poison of Samsara.

Taking the form of a man to the shoulders,

Holding a conch, a discus, and a sword,

One thousand heads white,

To Patanjali, I salute.

There’s an element of courage involved – courage to humble one’s self for the sake of gaining knowledge – to show faith through humility. And also reverence – a show of respect and admiration for those who have come before us and offered teachings to remove deep rooted misperceptions (avidya – that which prevents us from experiencing yoga) from our lives. 

There are a few key features of the chant that I find important to point out. The first being that “gurūnām” is plural – suggesting that the windows to awareness (a way I like to think of the guru principle) can appear in multiple forms as we move through our lives. The second is that it reminds us that the ultimate guru – the “awakening happiness of one’s own self” – is within us. It’s there for us to find and merge with (a way of thinking of yoga as union). Thirdly, I totally dig this idea of a “jungle physician”. This might not be the definitive definition, but to me it signifies the depth, grit and heart that most of us have to pour into this path, this work, in order to develop as a yogi. And then there’s “samsara hālāhala mohaśantyai”. Samsara being the cycle – the many cycles – within which our lives are embedded – the most significant one being our very own cycle of birth–life–death. Hālāhala represents the forces, the actions, often clouded by negative emotion, that continue to pull us into this cycle – and yoga is a means to liberate ourselves from this cycle (mohaśantyai). And finally, there’s a nod to Patanjali – the author/compiler of the Yoga Sutras – a guidebook for the practice of yoga that introduces the eight limbs (ashta = 8, anga = limbs) of ashtanga yoga. This last part, starting with “ābāhu” is direct from the traditional opening chant for the study of the Yoga Sutras. Asana is a super important limb for many of us and can serve as a backbone for inclusion and pursuit of developing the other seven limbs, giving us the opportunity to expand our yoga practice into every aspect of our lives. 

*An audio recording of this chant can be found on the “Shala on SoundCloud” page under the “On Demand” tab of yogashalanashville.com

The Extinction of a Story

“Therefore if I don’t know who I am, then I cling to my story, and fear exists within that clinging because at that moment I am the sum total of my story, and if my story evaporates, then I will cease to exist. That is what is known as extinction.” — Eddie Stern

December 17, 2015, my last day at FDA, I felt completely ready to move on. No doubts. Out the door and onward. But, when I turned in my badge, walked out, got in my car, passed the guard post, and exited the parking lot it hit me — there was no going back. A strange sort of skin-shedding feeling washed over me as I thought “I am no longer Dr. Cory Bryant, International Food Policy Manager, Food and Drug Administration” (an introduction I had been given, and had offered up, so many times in preceding years). That story — MY story — no longer existed. In that moment it evaporated.

A short time after someone asked me what I do for a living. I replied “I’m a yoga teacher, I teach yoga” and was met with a blank, somewhat dumbfounded, expression. I immediately felt the need, which I did not manage to suppress, to follow up with more story — as if I needed to explain and justify myself with something more robust. I said something like “well, I’m a scientist and recently resigned from FDA, now I’m opening my own yoga studio.” This then elicited a response along the lines of “oh wow, that’s great, good for you!”, yada yada…).

After this I swore to myself that I wouldn’t succumb to my inner pressure again — that I would overcome the need to justify my choices — that I would suppress the clinging to my story for self worth — that I would walk my own talk, take samasthithi, and be strong in where I stand. That I would be OK with the extinction of my story.

It’s been a challenging practice, made easier to some extent because so many folks I’m around in DC knew it (the story). Over time though, impermanence has done its job, and I am able to inhabit more fully this new story — a story that feels like the right one for me.

The thing is, our story is always changing and if we let go of the past and cease to project into the future then our mind — our being — can settle into the now — ATHA — the present moment. And the essence of such a moment is free, universal and peaceful. And if we manage to string some of those moments together, well, that’s bliss — unconditional, always available, equanimous, spacious joy.

The Sanskrit word SUKHA is typically said to mean happiness and can be translated as “good space”. It’s not the usual fleeting human concept of happy, but rather a lasting happiness that comes from being steady and easy in one’s own space. It’s fascinating to recognize (1) how difficult it can be to allow ourselves to occupy such space; (2) how much we cling to anything and everything that fills our space, supports our story and gives us identity; and (3) how powerful even one spacious moment can be.

Our stories are ours to edit. And the unexpected happenings along the way are ours to incorporate. Each moment is presenting itself with its own unique potential. If we can get out of our own way and be with our true Self life’s moments will carry us through.

Or something like that…. ;-)