Body is the bow, asana is the arrow, and the soul is the target.

B.K.S. Iyengar

As I understand yoga philosophy (and I’m no scholar, admittedly), the practice of yoga — including asana, pranayama, meditation, etc. — is aimed at assisting us in the journey towards freeing ourselves of our attachments to and fixation on the material world. This includes our own bodies. As my yoga teacher in L.A. used to say in class, “I am not my house. I am not my car. I am not my job. I am not my body.” This mantra was really helpful for people who may be inclined to identify strongly with some or all of these things. That pretty much includes all of us.

My teacher also frequently made use of this simple but instructive analogy: In yoga we peel back the layers of the “false self,” like layers of an onion, in order to discover our true being. All of the material things we use to build up our sense of self are, in fact, serving to achieve the exact opposite. The fancy clothes, the online profiles touting our various accomplishments, our degrees, etc., are just layers we add in an attempt to build ourselves up. The practice of yoga, on the other hand, cuts all this away. One day, through dedicated practice, we might actually find our true selves by looking inwards and not by endlessly seeking outwards. As my current teacher often says, “everything you need is already in you, and everything you want you already have.”

So where does anti-aging fit into all this? Well, to my mind, it doesn’t. Of course, a lot of people practice yoga in order to feel and look good. And I certainly don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. In fact, if I’m honest with myself, the desire to feel and look good is probably one of the main reason why I do yoga. But I hope that it’s not the only reason, or even the primary reason.

It’s easy to get too serious about yoga sometimes, and it can certainly be a problem if that seriousness leads to constant criticism of oneself and others. Doing headstand to “reverse the sagging skin of your face,” as one ad puts it, is pretty harmless and sort of amusing too. Of course, fighting the effects of gravity is probably not the reason why these poses were created. But if a desire to look younger motivates some people to get on the mat, all the better, right? And maybe by doing more yoga, they will discover that yoga can provide something more profound than youthful-looking skin; it can teach you to accept the fact of aging, and to embrace it as a part of your being and your journey as a human being.

Since doing a vinyasa flow yoga class in a pair of Dickies sounds about as fun as washing my face with a burlap sack, I decided to purchase a pair of women’s yoga shorts and make do. They turned out to be great, and I’ve actually incorporated them into my regular rotation of yoga outfits. The cut is straight-leg, so they’re not obviously women’s pants. They’re not too tight or too loose, and the fabric breathes well, even during a hot and sweaty class. Exactly what you want in yoga clothing.

This got me thinking, once again, about the lack of good yoga clothing for men. I used to wear Lululemon pants, back in the day when they had just a handful of stores and hadn’t yet turned into a gigantic multinational corporation. Back then, Lululemon actually used to make real yoga pants for men, not the overpriced, baggy sweat pants they sell now for guys who want to work out at the gym. (UPDATE: I heard from a good source that Lulu is rolling out a new men’s line this fall, with a lot more options for tops and bottoms. Whether this means some viable yoga pants, or just more sports wear for male athletes, remains to be seen.)

Without a good source for men’s yoga pants, I’ve had to resort to a lot of weird alternatives. For shirts, I tend to just cut off the sleeves of old t-shirts, or I wear undershirts or basketball jerseys. With pants, it’s more complicated. My favorite yoga pants have been linen pants — they’re lightweight and breathe well, even under the most extreme conditions. I’ve also purchased quite a few pairs of women’s yoga pants. No, I’m not usually a cross-dresser, but I can’t seem to find men’s yoga clothing that’s designed for someone who actually practices yoga.

Here are the main flaws in about 99% of men’s yoga clothing (pants in particular):

• Too saggy: A lower inseam is the standard for men’s pants, but this is generally not very good for yoga. You can’t do even basic lunging poses like Warrior I or Extended Side Angle without constantly jacking up your pants. Lifting up the crotch of your pants over and over is no way to go through a yoga class.
• Too heavy:  Most men’s yoga pants are way too heavy and thick, often complete with front and back pockets so deep that you could put several wallets in there. Why!? Who needs so many pockets when they’re doing yoga?
• Too baggy: I don’t need skin-tight pants for yoga, nor do I want them. And I’m guessing most guys are with me on this. But I also don’t want pants that are too baggy, because all that extra fabric adds weight, and I’m constantly snagging my foot on the extra fabric when I’m trying to get into poses like Lotus.

So, until Lululemon or another yoga clothing company starts making some legit yoga pants for men, you’ll find me sheepishly poking around the women’s section. The most embarrassing part of this is the response I get when I ask for a dressing room: “Um, sir, do you realize those are women’s pants…?” Fun times!

Despite the outward similarities in our practices, Bob’s and my respective views on yoga couldn’t be more different. Bob’s assessment of the substitute teacher amounted to a complaint that she didn’t “do enough L 2-3 stuff” — i.e., she didn’t incorporate enough advanced poses into her class. It hadn’t actually occurred to me, until this very conversation, that the class we were discussing was rated at any level. In fact, it’s been a very long time since I’ve evaluated classes in terms of their advertised difficulty or skill level. To me, these labels are usually meaningless.

For starters, difficulty ratings like “Level 2-3” tend not to correlate very well with the actual difficulty of the class (measuring that purely in terms of physical strenuousness, of course). But more importantly, they also describe the class in terms of something that is not, imho, the true measure of a yoga class. Whether or not a class is packed with handstands and insane backbends has little to do with how beneficial the class is for students. Unless you do yoga purely for the exercise (and there’s nothing inherently wrong with that), a good yoga class is going to involve more than a lot of sweat. I won’t go into a whole tangent on what should be in a good yoga class, but my old teacher probably put it best when he said, “If you’re not breathing mindfully, you’re not doing yoga; you’re just doing Indian calisthenics.”

As a yoga practitioner who’s been at it for over a decade, I find that the main criterion by which I evaluate a yoga instructor is his or her knowledge. I’m not talking about the sort of performative knowledge that takes the shape of pontification and spiritual jargon. I’m talking about the quiet knowledge that comes from maturity, a seasoned yoga practice, and a life that bears the hallmarks of a commitment to mindful/yogic living, as opposed to a fitness routine or trendy lifestyle.

It wasn’t always like this. Once upon a time — actually, not so long ago — I was always looking for that “burn” in my yoga classes. If a teacher couldn’t bring it, I was gone. But nowadays, I find that I have different (not necessarily lower) expectations of what I get from yoga. Maybe it’s just a sign of my transition into middle age, but my goal these days is to practice yoga in a sustainable way that provides a backbone to my everyday life. I need and rely upon great teachers to help me on this journey. And great teachers can be found in many places, not just in those classes marked “Level 2-3”.

To be more precise, it’s not the feeling of disorientation that I like, but the experience of doing yoga from a new and unusual perspective. If you’ve ever done your Sun Salutations with your eyes closed, you’ll know something of what I’m talking about. By closing your eyes, you remove one of the main stimuli from your yoga experience — visual information about your surroundings — and this can open up the door to a more inward, feeling-based practice. I don’t mean a practice driven by emotion, but one that stems from how the poses feel in your body.

I practice at a studio that’s filled with mirrors, so when the teacher gives an instruction like “lengthen your sides in triangle,” I often find myself checking my alignment in the mirror. This can certainly be helpful at times, but it also encourages me to always think of poses in terms of what they look like. This emphasis on the outward appearance of a pose is not always a good thing, and can even be a hindrance. Sometimes, it’s more helpful to just feel what the pose is like when you correctly “lengthen your sides in triangle,” instead of visually inspecting this in a mirror.

While I don’t recommend that people visually impair themselves in their yoga practices, I do think it can be useful to literally change your perspective in other ways. Most people depend heavily on their sense of sight, so it can be very jarring when some visual aspect of our practice changes. But this can be a good thing, too, especially if it can help you to experience and approach your practice in a new and perhaps beneficial way.

Besides losing your contact lenses, here are a few other ideas for changing the way you see things in yoga:

• Change the spot where you normally practice. If you normally practice front and center, try setting up your mat way in the back of the room. Or if you’re shy and always take the spot furthest from the teacher, see what it’s like to be right up front.
• Practice without the mirror. Mirrors can be very useful. But they can also become a crutch. If you practice at a studio with a mirror, try setting up in a spot where you can’t actually see yourself. Or maybe try a studio that doesn’t have mirrors at all.
• Practice with a mirror. If you don’t practice in a mirrored studio, consider trying one out. Most people are surprised when actually they see themselves doing yoga for the first time. A simple visual check can do wonders to correct bad yoga habits and poor form.
• Close your eyes. Try doing some, or even all, of your practice with your eyes closed. When you do this, something as simple as a Sun Salutation can turn into a whole new adventure.
• Practice drishti. This is perhaps what all the talk of perspective and focus is leading up to. In many schools of yoga, you’re eventually supposed to get to a place in your practice where your focus in each asana is directed by drishti — concentrated gaze. At first, the practice of drishti will be primarly about where you’re looking with your eyes. But this practice evolves over time, until it’s more about your attention, intention, mental focus, and the overall direction of your consciousness.

As I work my way back into my yoga practice, I’m trying to remain hyper-aware of two things. First, I want to make sure that I don’t injure myself, and so I constantly have to hold myself back from doing too much. In general, it’s a good idea to be mindful of not pushing yourself beyond where your body is today. This is especially important for people making a comeback from an injury or an extended period of not practicing. The muscle memory for doing certain things might be there, but that doesn’t mean your muscles (or bones, ligaments, etc.) are ready, too.

Holding back can be frustrating at times. For instance, in class, the teacher might suggest an “advanced” arm balance to students, and one part of me automatically wants to go there. But the other half of me knows that I really have nothing to prove — to myself or anyone else — and it’s okay just to work the more basic form of a pose instead of always taking it up to the next level.

Secondly, I am trying to reevaluate how I approach my yoga practice, and how I integrate it into my life. I never made a conscious decision to stop practicing yoga as I moved further and further into the depths of my film production. But it happened, and my physical and mental wellbeing suffered as a result. Next time around, I’d like to do everything in my power to sustain some sort of yoga practice even when I’m in the midst of an intense and chaotic film production.

The times in life when we need yoga the most are often the times when we find it the most difficult to practice. For me, one reason I stopped doing yoga was that I had an “all or nothing” attitude about it. I felt like going to yoga just once a week, and maybe struggling because my practice was rusty, was simply not worth it. So I didn’t go at all. Likewise, I felt that doing even a 20- or 30-minute self-practice wasn’t worth the time, because it would never be as strenuous or comprehensive as a full class. So the end result was a month without doing ANY yoga.

Most serious yoga practitioners, at some time or another, will have to take a step back from yoga. Sometimes this is due to injury, a crazy work schedule, or some other factor that prevents you from keeping a regular practice. Of course, a hiatus can also be the result of positive life changes — e.g., child birth, moving to a new city, job promotion, etc. Whatever the cause may be, taking a step back from yoga can be a great way to hit the reset button, so that you can approach yoga again with a new set of goals, expectations, and maybe even a whole new perspective. The key, I think, is to approach the familiar with what some Buddhists call the beginner’s mind or don’t-know mind. This process of (re)discovery can yield surprising results. For me, I hope to reconnect with my practice in way that makes it sustainable through thick and thin, rather than something I only do at an “advanced” level, or not at all.

Photo credit: BWJones

My yoga teacher here in Chicago has a unique way of expressing himself, especially when it comes to imparting bits of insight and wisdom. To the casual observer, he might sound like Yoda, the sagacious character from Star Wars who counsels Luke Sykwalker. But with my yoga teacher, as with Yoda, there’s much more to it than speaking in oddly constructed sentences.

Lately, my teacher has been talking about a different way of conceptualizing “doing a yoga pose.” More specifically, he encourages us to “let the pose do you” instead of the other way around. The first few times he said this, I didn’t think too much of it. But the other day, something about this shift in approach struck me as being rife with meaning. Maybe I’m reading too much into this, but here’s my take on the significance of “letting the pose do you.”

Superficially, my teacher’s suggestion just amounts to a grammatical rearranging of object and subject. That is, he’s asking us to swap “x does y” with “y does x.” This might seem trivial, but it’s not. The difference between “I do Tree Pose” and “Tree Pose does me” goes straight to the heart of yoga. The first sentence places “I” in the subject position, and makes “I” — the ego — the central point from which action emerges. The second sentence reverses this order, arguably diminishing “I” by making it the recipient or object of action.

So why is this perspectival shift important? And how does it pertain to yoga philosophy in particular? For some folks, the point of yoga is to diminish or exterminate “I” (the ego or self). In doing so, one can achieve some sort of union with the universe. I won’t go into the complicated metaphysics of this approach to yoga, but suffice it to say that for certain practitioners, “letting the pose do you” could be understood as a first step towards letting go of the self and merging with Universal Atman, the One, etc.

For those practitioners who are more secular, so to speak, “letting the pose do you” is still very relevant. To my mind, it’s about letting go of control. Or at least a certain kind of control. Sometimes, it’s okay to just trust in the process, and maybe even allow the process to do the work, instead of constantly trying to be in the driver’s seat. Each yoga asana is designed for a specific purpose, or range of purposes. Sometimes, in order to benefit from a pose, you need to let the pose do what it was designed to do, instead of straining excessively like you’re trying to squeeze the last drops of juice out of a lemon.

If you’re into basketball or football, you might be familiar with the concept of “pressing” — i.e., trying to force something to happen. Pressing is essentially the opposite of “being in the zone,” where everything seems to click in a seemingly effortless manner. Yoga, whether you approach it as mere sport or as something more, is very similar. Maximum effort to the point of straining is not generally beneficial. A better approach is to find the right sort of effort, and to strike a balance between acting and being acted upon.

As with a lot of lessons in yoga, the significance of “let the pose do you” goes well beyond mere asana. It’s relevant for everything we do in life, whether it’s our careers, our relationships, or how we go about our basic, day-to-day activities. When you’re stuck in traffic, for instance, imagine how much less stressful it would be to simply let the traffic move you, instead of fighting to get through or around the traffic. Navigating your way through traffic is a process that is only partially in your control. Yes, you can do some things to make your commute shorter. But constantly switching lanes, cutting people off, honking your horn, etc., is not only ineffective, but it places you in a position of contention with others, as opposed to one of coexistence or even cooperation.

When it comes to asana — the physical postures of yoga — it’s easy to fall into the trap of ego-centric thinking. This has consequences. The thought “I am doing Tree Pose” inevitably opens the door for judgements like “I’m no good at Tree Pose.” Not surprisingly, this can result in feelings of frustration, competitiveness, or jealousy. But when the pose is doing the doing, so to speak, these ego-centric feelings are less likely to arise. Personally, I’ve only experienced a few fleeting moments of such clarity and freedom in my practice. As my teacher reminds me, though, the practice will do the work if you just get out of the way and allow it to do its thing. To paraphrase a famous yoga saying, “Let the pose do you, and all will come.”

I’ve said a lot on this topic in the past, so instead of repeating myself, I’m including links to some older posts:

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(I Know I Got) Skillz (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In my life outside of yoga, I’m a filmmaker and producer. I’m currently in the middle of casting my next project, and as I go through all the headshots and resumes, I’m noticing that quite a few actors list yoga as one of their “skills”. Here’s an excerpt from one actor’s resume:

Special Skills and Talents: independently moving eyebrows, stage combat, basic piano, horseback riding, firearms, intermediate tumbling, yoga

One of the roles in my next project calls for a woman in her early 20’s. Although there is no mention of yoga in the casting call, roughly 90% of the actors submitting for this role claim yoga as a special skill, right alongside other skills like “can drive stick” and “fluent in Cantonese”.

Beyond the obvious chuckle factor, this caught my eye because I don’t really think of yoga as a skill. To me, it’s an ever-evolving practice, as well as something that keeps me (somewhat) sane and (somewhat) grounded. As a result, it’s never occurred to me to put yoga down as a skill on my own resume, but apparently I’m the odd man out.

So what’s the difference between a skill and a practice? In my mind, a skill is something that you can be better or worse at. It’s also something that you can be admired for, and maybe even rewarded for. So, for instance, Shaquille O’Neal has basketball “skillz”, and he’s received a lot of money, fame, and adulation as a result. A more down-to-earth example might be a skillful carpenter — he doesn’t necessarily receive fame and fortune for his “skillz”, but he probably does receive a certain amount of respect and appropriate compensation for his skillful work.

A practice, in contrast to a skill, is more about the process or the journey. True, people often practice in order to hone their skills, and they can also evaluate a practice session as being good or bad. But practice is less tainted with the expectations or demands of performance. When we practice something, we can make mistakes and experiment. It’s expected. When you exercise a skill, however, you generally cannot do this and still be considered good at what you do.

So is yoga a skill or a practice? Well, I guess you could call it a skill and a practice. But to me, there’s something funny about treating yoga like basketball, carpentry, math, or cooking. If we approach yoga with an attitude of non-judgement, then it doesn’t make sense to say something like, “I’m better at yoga than you are.” Likewise, it doesn’t make sense to think of yoga as something you can be good or bad at. Your practice just is what it is, based on your current physical/mental state.

Some days when I step on the mat, I hardly have the energy to do a proper vinyasa. Other days, I’m floating into arm balances and handstands with ease. These extremes are neither good nor bad. I’ve been doing yoga long enough to know that one’s yoga practice can fluctuate dramatically from day to day, and year to year. It’s not a skill, per se, but something more like a place that I visit. I come back repeatedly, and somehow these repeated trips add up to one long, unpredictable journey.

I’m not sure when it happened — probably sometime in the last couple of weeks — but I’m definitely in a yoga rut. This is not the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last. I know from experience, however, that this feeling of the yoga “blahs” will pass. In fact, this has happened so many times to me over the years that I’ve developed a few tried and true techniques to jump start my practice and get myself out of my yoga funk. By sharing a few of these ideas, I hope I might inspire other people in a similar boat to stick with it and rediscover their practice.

Back to Basics

A lot of yoga students measure progress in terms of how well they can do so-called “advanced” postures. For many yogis, this means arm balances, handstands, and deep backbends. In the first few years of doing yoga, you can make tremendous progress in these poses, and with hard work you’ll notice major improvements from week to week.

But the honeymoon eventually ends. It’s impossible to make such huge leaps and bounds in your asana practice forever, and eventually you’ll find yourself looking around for the next exciting challenge, only to find there are none.

So what’s the solution? Here’s an idea: Instead of always looking to take your practice up a notch, try going back to basics. As one of my teachers used to say, it’s actually impossible to master any individual yoga pose. Even the most basic postures, like Down Dog or Tadasana, are impossible to master.

So instead of thinking of yoga postures as something to master and check off a list, approach each pose as a unique opportunity to explore. The best way to do this, in my view, is to focus on the fine details of each posture, especially those Yoga 101 details you may tend to overlook now because your practice has become so “advanced”.  Try exploring, say, the subtle alignment aspects of Triangle Pose. Maybe use a block. Back off the deepest expression of the pose and explore it again as if you were tentative beginner.

The sense of discovery that emerges from this approach can be pretty amazing, and if you really commit to revisiting the basics, you’ll start to see all the tiny imperfections (or nuances) in your practice. And now you have a whole new playground to play in. The results might not look as cool as jumping up into a handstand. But they can be just as rewarding, if not more so.

Explore Other Aspects of Yoga

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: Yoga is more — a lot more –than just poses. The easiest way to work yourself into a yoga rut is to forget this simple fact.

A good remedy, then, is to expand the field of possibilities beyond asana and to think about other important aspects of yoga, such as Pranayama or Dhyana. If your teacher or studio doesn’t provide instruction in these other areas, consider going elsewhere. It might be time for you to “graduate” from your gym or fitness-oriented yoga studio, and to look for a studio that emphasizes yoga philosophy, breath work, or other practices that go beyond asana.

If neither of the above two suggestions helps  to get you out of a yoga rut, consider these other ideas for reviving your yoga practice:

• Take a Workshop
• Try a Different Style of Yoga
• Read (Yoga Philosophy, Yoga-Inspired Novels)
• Practice at Home
• Take Some Time Off

With any relationship in life, especially those that span years and even decades, we inevitably hit soft patches. This is true of our relationships with our spouses, parents, friends, even our own children. For serious yoga practitioners, their relationship with yoga will also go through similar ups and downs.

Instead of wandering away from yoga, or quitting altogether, it’s helpful to remind yourself that the yoga practice is a lifelong process. And as with any process, it evolves over time. Sometimes it’s easy. Sometimes it’s hard. And every once in a while, it will seem impossible to go on. But when you overcome these challenges, you can emerge on the other side with a deeper appreciation of that challenge, as well as its rewards.