The Beautiful Business of Yoga and What I Did in My Spare Time

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Ferry Building San Francisco after the 1906 Ea...

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I love the architecture of the Hyatt Regency on Embarcadero.  A cross between Logan’s Run and The Poseidon Adventure (after the rogue wave), it’s all sharp angles, shafts of light and heavy concrete.

The last time I was here greenery trailed from each floor like the Gardens of Babylon.  But this year, in an attempt to brighten a dark winter, a thick fringe of white lights hang from the ceiling ending about twenty feet above the atrium restaurant.  The effect is dizzying.  Seizure inducing if you’re of that ilk.

The good news.  I woke at 5:30 with a new game plan.  Galvanized.  Hopeful.  I jotted down a few ideas before they melted away, drifted back to sleep and woke again to see the red sunrise reflecting off the Bay Bridge.

After a shower I walked over to the Ferry Building, enjoyed a non-fat latte and strolled among the fruit and vegetable stalls.  Yes, I strolled (those of you who know me know that I do not, by nature, stroll).  I sampled fermented carrot (an acquired taste) and pickled okra (yummy even on an empty stomach) from the Cultured Pickle Shop and then made my way back to the atrium restaurant for breakfast.

I may have been a little harsh yesterday.  There are plenty of wonderful reasons to attend the conferences Yoga Journal hosts around the country, month after month, on and on, forever and ever Amen.  Ooops.  I think I meant to say “Om”.

Give me a moment to contemplate these reasons while I dig into a bowl of steel cut oats large enough to provide sustenance into next Tuesday.

Right.  Sorry.  Can’t do it.  Trying to defend these conferences is a little bit like me trying to defend chiropractics.  While I know having regular visits to a chiropractor resonates with plenty of people, it doesn’t with me (for the record, I’m a fan of acupuncture).  And I know there are attendees here who are being opened to new ideas, new ways of thinking, new poses.  New ways of being.  And, with all sincerity, that is wonderful.  But I’m not.  Because in the back of my head there’s a little voice whispering, “this isn’t what yoga is supposed to be.”

I think the epiphany arrived as I worked through a rack of organic bamboo/cotton blend/75% spandex yoga trousers woven by Blind Monks from Tibet.  Or maybe Alabama. The clothing was very beautiful and very, very expensive. The tag suggested that wearing the pants would change my life.  I’d find freedom.  Liberation.  Breathtaking beauty.  Wearing that particular brand of clothing pretty much guaranteed powers of levitation on the way to Nirvana.

I understand that we pay a price for what we love and that in the 21st century Yoga is Big Business.  But can we try to make it a better, more beautiful and honest business?  One of the reasons I support Jason and his Three Minute Eggs (see yesterday’s post here) is because he doesn’t promise Enlightenment.  He doesn’t suggest I’ll be more wonderful than I already am if I use his eggs.  He simply made a good prop better.  You have to admire his ingenuity while slapping yourself on the side of head and saying, “why didn’t I think of that?”

As far as teachers go, that’s why I admire Paul and Suzee Grilley and Gil Hedley.  They teach from the heart, with humility.  Yes, I pay for their teaching the same way I pay for Jason’s blocks.  But they share their knowledge with loving generosity.

My life challenge is jealousy and envy.  So I suppose there is always the possibility that these feelings of cynicism are coming from that dark place.  Would I feel the same way if Yoga Journal asked me to teach?  Am I jealous that I don’t have a book to hawk or a clever prop to demonstrate?  Maybe.  Maybe not.

Or maybe the truth is my heart is weary of watching the thing that has given my life depth and character being demeaned by the competitive marketplace in front of my eyes.

And maybe I learned more than I thought this weekend.

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Reading for Pleasure

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I read for pleasure yesterday.  Yes, that’s correct.  I read.  For pleasure.

The morning began like every other morning.  I woke, came down the stairs in the house where I’m taking care of Frodo the Magical Golden Retriever, and opened my notebook to check emails while the coffee brewed. (The dream I had last August of continuing the morning meditation and yoga practice begun during Yin Teacher Training has collapsed.  Old habits die hard – but that’s for another post.)

On this Saturday, my heart just wasn’t in the emails.  Or working on my novel The Growing Season.  I wanted more from the day than the same old routine.  And so I put down the laptop and picked up Gil Hedley’s Reconceiving My Body, cozied up on the couch, and opened to the first page.

Six hours later – with a few breaks for lunch and dog walking – I read the last sentence, “I truly appreciate your interest” and closed the book.

I’ve mentioned Gil Hedley before.  I’ve posted his “Fuzz Speech” online, as have many of my friends from Yin training.  I’ll be participating in a one-day anatomy intensive with Hedley in February and a one-week cadaver intensive in April.  Reading this book was the beginning of my preparation for these workshops.

The thing is, Gil Hedley is an odd duck.  Admittedly, so am I.

Reconceiving My Body is a love story.  Sort of.  It’s the story of how Hedley went from wanna-be-Priest to PhD to Tai Chi Guy to Rolfer to Somanaut to Husband to Father.  It’s a deeply personal story and yet the story he tells belongs to everyone.  Who hasn’t struggled with faith, with sexuality, with finding their path?  How many travel through life playing the role of the victim until we finally learn to take personal responsibility for our actions? Ultimately it is trust – not faith – that leads to redemption.

Good teachers are hard to find.  Based on what I’ve seen, what I’ve heard and now, what I’ve read – I found one.

(I know, I know…you’re heads are still wrapping around the idea of a “cadaver intensive.”  That’s all right.  So’s mine.)

 

Fascia, Fuzz and Fear

A few weeks ago my fellow yogis and I gathered in The Pine Room at Land of Medicine Buddha to watch a video called The Fuzz Speech. Basically, the film is a short history of fascia.  Fascia is a type of connective tissue that runs throughout our body.  As we age, or if we are immobile, it begins to contract and stiffen.  After we watched the short video, we were certain of two things: we would always, always, always stretch our bodies and we wanted to study with Gil Hedley.

Gil Hedley is the anatomist and theologian who delivers The Fuzz Speech.  It’s worth the five minutes it takes to watch.

I hope to complete a six-day workshop with him during April in San Francisco.  And yet I’ve not registered for the class.  What’s holding me back?  One simple phone call.  To enroll in his cadaver study intensive, I need to call him.  But I’m afraid I won’t know what to say.  Or maybe there’s a part of me that’s hoping if I put off ringing the number long enough, the course will be full.  In other words, I’m sabotaging my potential success. I’m my own worse enemy.  But fear is a funny thing, isn’t it.  I’m not afraid of the intensive.  I’m not afraid of confronting death.  If anything, I’m afraid of life.

Last night, when a neighborhood in San Bruno exploded in flames, we were reminded that it could all be over in a flash.  Of course, bad things happen all over the world all the time.  But this is our Peninsula, and San Bruno is just down the road.  When tragedy on a massive scale hits this close to home…

I think it’s time to stop navel gazing and time to live life.  Excuse me; I have a phone call to make.

Oh – one more thing, while you’re fiddling around watching The Fuzz Speech, take a look at these photographs of bones.  The way you think about yoga and alignment will never be the same.

Samsara

I was the first one home.  I had to be – it was only a ninety-minute drive.  And so while I was unpacking, Anke and Emrik were leaving for Europe.  While I did laundry, Steph was waiting for the floatplane that would bring her home and Jaymie and her husband were enjoying one last day in Santa Cruz.  As I washed my car, Kristen and Mel were driving up the coast. Michael headed to Sonoma.   As I cruised the aisles of my local Safeway, Janet was cruising at 35,000 feet somewhere over the Pacific. We were all someplace else.  We were all returning to family and friends.

There were hugs and tears, of course.  That’s what sent me away in the first place – I didn’t want everyone to see me cry, although they already had.

By the time Dave reunited with his wife I was enjoying a late lunch that did not involve lentils, quinoa or green salad (although I wish it had).  I was in my beloved green leather chair, with the remote control in my hand.

Only hours later and the old comforts were nipping at my heels.

Habits shut us down and prevent us from living the life we are meant to live.  They are like choke holds.  We struggle to wrestle free from them.

Establishing a new rhythm to my life – abandoning the patterns that hold me down – will require persistence and strong belief in my ability to make it so.

Talking to friends about the last two weeks at Land of Medicine Buddha will be a difficult thing.  I can talk about the great food, the lovely people I met, the schedule we kept – but I won’t be able to talk about how it felt.  But that’s all right.  It’s my hope I won’t have to explain anything.  My actions will speak for themselves.

Day Om…Land of Medicine Buddha

Do you remember that Superbowl commercial from 1984?  The one with the sledgehammer?  I feel a bit like that.

It turns out that somewhere along our yoga journey we became stuck on alignment.  How it happened doesn’t really matter.

For the past twenty years I’ve been turning my right foot out ninety degrees and turning my left foot in thirty for every triangle.  And so has each one of my students.   I believed the same alignment worked for everyone.  And I appreciated having rules to follow.  It felt good to know that if my feet were in set in one direction and my hands in another I was ‘doing it right’.  It didn’t hurt my average proportioned body – why would it hurt anyone else?

Besides, it’s nice putting poses into compartments: this is what Triangle looks like.  This is Half Moon.  Warrior goes like this.  And if our poses weren’t identical it wasn’t because we were breaking the Laws of Alignment – it was because we had a tight hip or a tense hamstring.  As soon as those muscles loosened up we’d be just fine.  Because we’re all the same.  Just like in that Superbowl commercial.

Well guess what?  Paul and Suzee Grilley have taken a sledgehammer to everything I thought I knew about yoga.

Here’s the thing:  It turns out we’re not all the same.

Sure, differences on the outside are easy to note:  hair color, eye color, body weight – they’re different on everyone.  But we forgot to consider the inside.  The closest most of us come to looking at bones are the plastic skeletons in high school biology class.  But those familiar plastic femurs drop off an assembly line, one after another. We don’t.  As the saying goes, “When God made you he broke the mold.” We’re one of kind.  Literally.

If you don’t believe me, look at this: bone photos

These past two weeks – which are coming to an end far too soon – have made me reconsider everything I thought I knew about yoga, about movement, about teaching.

I have loved my time here but I’m looking forward to coming home and being with all my students.  I’m looking forward to our transition – a slow unwinding – a letting go of the rules.  You won’t believe how liberating it feels.

Day Six – Land of Medicine Buddha. No – Make that ‘Home Sweet Home’

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We have today off. My roommate invited me to drive down the coast with her but I’m a homebody.  After Friday’s last ‘Namaste’ I made my way ‘over the hill’ and came home.  Being home grounds me.  I can confirm the apartment is still here, my houseplants are still alive and the upstairs neighbors are still loud. The bottom line?  There’s a week of laundry to do and a DVR locked, loaded and ready for viewing.

So I’m here in my little studio processing the last six days and anticipating the next seven.  What I’m really trying to say is this:

Teacher training has been a colossal mind-bender (and you can feel free to replace ‘bender’ with slightly saltier language).

  • One moment I’m certain I’m a good yoga teacher – my teaching philosophy runs parallel to Paul and Suzee’s.
  • In the next moment I’m a failure because I’ve never seriously considered introducing yogic philosophy to my classes.
  • Before I arrived my yogic path was an Iyengar path – I believed his system of alignment meant my students were safe.
  • Now I’m asking myself, ‘how do I tell my students I’ve been wrong for the past sixteen years?’.
  • I convince myself that I can teach a hybrid of Iyengar and Yin (I call it I-YIN-Gar!).
  • But then I see that beautiful photo of Iyengar and his curiously long eyebrows in the studio where I teach.  He looks at me.  His brows are knit together in disapproval.

It’s a delicate balancing act, integrating two disparate schools of thought.

If you asked me, “What are you enjoying the most about teacher training?” I think the answer would change moment by moment.  But I have to admit I believe the most meaningful part of the day is the thirty-minute morning meditation.  I believe that continuing the practice when I return to “real life” will go a long way toward discovering where this new yoga path will lead.

Day Five and Counting at LMB

We learned a Yang sequence yesterday that I can’t wait to teach and this morning explored deepening stretches for the hip and lower back.  With twenty minutes to spare Paul said,  “Ok, do whatever you want.”  I couldn’t help it – I slipped in about ten minutes of Iyengar. Integrating Yin with Iyengar continues to be challenging but I don’t believe it is impossible.  During my Iyengar practice I was able to assimilate a little of Suzee’s Yang Flow with my favorite “slow flow” (triangle, half-moon, warrior one and back to standing forward bend) and if felt incredible.

I don’t believe it’s right of me to completely abandon the Iyengar way, even as I embrace Yin.  Just like everything, there is a balance.  It’s important to know what works about Iyengar (the props and the pace) and what doesn’t (the insistence on exact alignment).  And it’s important to know what works in Yin (the targeting of the fascia) and what doesn’t (the lack of precise answers that can frustrate a beginner).  I believe that in my teaching and in my practice, the two might gently learn to accommodate one another.

It’s a good day.  I can’t wait to return and share what I’m learning.

Land of Medicine Buddha – Day 2

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Day 2 August 16th

After a light meal of soup and salad we met for the first time as a group last night in the Pine Room. After introductions, Suzee and Paul distributed a hand out and the director of LMB gave a brief talk about the trails, our accommodations, and how to fend off mountain lions.

My roommate is Kristen Butero.  She and her husband Bob own a yoga studio in Devon, Pennsylvania:  www.yogalifeinstitute.com.  They publish a monthly magazine called Yoga Living.  Bob Butero’s written a book The Pure Heart of Yoga. It’s a guide to help us apply yogic philosophy to everyday living.

Kristen has a great depth of yoga knowledge and I’m grateful to have her as a roommate.

For instance, she was a great help last night.  For the past two decades my yoga experience has been Iyengar influenced.  The yoga I am here to study – yin yoga – is the anti-thesis of Iyengar.  I’m not being asked to unlearn everything I’ve been taught, but to be open to the possibility that there is another way.  Even so, I’m finding the task difficult.  It’s not that I considered Mr. Iyengar’s method perfect.  But it has been close to perfect for me.  Maybe that’s because I like everything to have a place, and I want everything in its place.  A foot here, an arm there, look this way, breath that way. That would be easy if we were all the same.  But we’re not.  We’re not the same physically nor are we the same energetically.

I took on board all this information yesterday.  It’s basically contrary to everything I’ve been taught and – I’ll admit it – I got a little rattled.  Here’s how Kristen talked me down from the ledge last night:  In her opinion, over the last several thousand years, as the sages moved their bodies and the asanas were evolving into the yoga poses we know today, yogi’s were seeking the position where they felt their energy move without inhibition.  The position where their energy – their prana – flowed freely.

And that’s why my nice, neat little yoga wall is coming apart one brick at a time.  And if I’m honest, it hurts, but I like it.  I’m confused but I’ll be all right.  Right now I’m fairly confident I’ll still be a yoga teacher when this is all over.  Fingers crossed.

But seriously, in a group of students, why should we strive to make poses seem identical?  Why should they remain static?  What I learned from Paul and Suzee today is that poses are organic.  They can shift.  They have a functional aspect that we often sacrifice for the aesthetic (read that again – go on – read it – it’s a big deal, and I learned it today).  Furthermore, everyone in the room experiences the pose differently.  Not only does every person in the room experience the pose differently, but I believe we experience the pose differently each time we practice.  It is not be the same experience.

A bit about our schedule.  The day begins at 7:00 with thirty minutes of meditation followed by breakfast.  We meet for two hours of yoga at 9:00 and then a one-hour lecture.  Following lunch we have a further three hours of lecture, theory and practice.  Practice is when we work in groups and analyze structural differences, work on modifying poses for different situations and study anatomy.

And if you’re wondering, the vegetarian food is great.  I was hoping to leave a few pounds lighter.  If they keep serving thick lentil soup with warm bread and butter I don’t think that’s going to happen.

Day 1 – Land of Medicine Buddha

Day 1 August 15th

I arrived at Land of Medicine Buddha two hours early but still able to register and move into my room.  Since then I’ve been writing and waiting for my roommate to arrive.  There are people here from around the world.  I wasn’t expecting that.  A woman traveled from Hong Kong, there are several from Europe and Canada and many from across the United States.  Californians are in the minority.

All the worry that filled my head before leaving Palo Alto did not materialize.  I did not crash and burn on Highway 17 and I did not become lost.  Everyone else brought as much luggage as me.  And everyone is very, very friendly.

Land of Medicine Buddha is tucked away off of Prescott Road outside of Soquel.  It feels remote and yet Soquel itself is only ten minutes away.  There are several main buildings clustered together – rustic dormitories, a reception area and shop, meditation rooms and a dining hall.  It’s like camping for Buddhists.

I met Paul and Suzee right away.  Actually – I walked right past them, failing to recognize the follically challenged Paul with a hat on.  They’re lovely and welcoming and Paul’s peculiar laugh rings out across the camp.

After unpacking and swearing to Suzee that I did not – under any circumstances – want to know where I could find a wireless connection I brought out my notebooks and wrote the old-fashioned way, with pen and paper.

But the beautiful day worked its magic.  It’s warm and sunny.  The sky is sparkling blue and from my perch I looked up through the leaves of a plum tree made ruby red by the filtering sun.

And then Chloe, the welcoming cat, made her appearance and I knew everything would be all right.

Fasten Your Seat Belt…

I want to say, before anything else, that maybe I’m wrong.  That perhaps my time in high school and again in college spent as a Bible-thumping, tongue-speaking Charismatic has made me a bit wary of preachers.  My mission as a Yoga teacher is to teach you what I know and what I’m learning.  My mission is to keep you safe and injury free as you grow in your Yoga practice.  My mission is to encourage you and my hope is that you discover that there is more to Yoga than the physical.  When we practice with peace, with non-violence towards our body, free of an agenda and expectations, a connection takes place between the body and the spirit. It’s not up to me to point it out to you.  You must find it.  Sometimes it takes no time at all – we feel the connection with our very first triangle.  But for many of us our fear of doing it ‘wrong’ holds us back.  There is no ‘wrong’.  There is tightness, joint restriction, agitation, fear…but there is no wrong.   Sometimes to grow, we need to step back, to take a lighter approach.  Sometimes to grow, we need to dig deeper.

Yoga is a blessing in my life. But its ever-increasing commercialization has, at times, made me feel insecure as a teacher and as a student. Can I still practice Yoga if I don’t have the right clothes?  The right mat?  Am I skinny enough?  Can I put my foot behind my heads?  Why, after twenty-five years of Yoga practice does Crow still elude me? Dare I confess that, on occasion, I’m a sucker for a crisp slice of bacon?

So – in the spirit of healthy skepticism, fasten your seat belt, we’re in for a bumpy rant.

I want to like John Friend and Anusara Yoga.  I really do.  I love the alignment-based technique, the sense of humor and joy.  The highlight of the 2008 San Francisco Yoga Journal Conference (besides discovering Three-Minute Eggs) was my Anusara session with Désirée Rumbaugh.

But then I read this quote from Friend’s interview in the September issue of Yoga Journal:  “When I was four years old, Kennedy got shot… I was sick.  My mother fed me whiskey and honey and put me in front of the TV.  So I was in an altered state of consciousness when my shows were preempted by the Dallas tragedy.  Watching the funeral caused me deep questioning about the meaning of life.  Why would we be created to have it all taken away?”

John Friend and I are the same age.  I asked questions that week, too.  Questions like, “Mommy, why are the boots in the saddle stuck in backwards?” I’m pretty certain I didn’t question my existence. Jack Ruby killed Lee Harvey Oswald on November 24th but, other than that, death had nothing to do with me. November 24th, 1963 was my 5th birthday.  I was afraid the celebrations might be cancelled.

Maybe as a child John Friend was calibrated to a higher universal frequency than me.  Maybe he tapped into something I didn’t notice because I was too busy thinking about my mom’s pineapple upside down cake and not stepping on the kitchen cockroaches that occasionally made daring daytime raids.

The truth is, as much as I want to believe, I’m very, very skeptical that John Friend questioned the meaning of life at age four.

But I like being a skeptic.  I think it’s healthy.  And, these days, there’s a place for skepticism in Yoga.

So I’m putting the Commercial Yoga World on notice.  Unless I see you walk on water I’m not going to follow you like a puppy.  But I’ll believe you’re a human, just like me, who has honed a skill through hard work and dedicated practice.  I’ll believe you have a gift for teaching.  But I won’t allow the masses to convince me you’re the Next Great Yogic Hope.

And please don’t put a copyright on poses that are thousands of years old.  Don’t try to convince me your sequencing belongs to you and you alone,  or that practicing the sequence in a super-heated room is healthy.  It might be, for you, but not for me.  I tried it.  I even enjoyed the spiritual benefit. And yet, each time I began a hot yoga practice the result, for me, was illness or injury.

So please, if hot yoga makes you feel jubilant  please don’t proselytize that your Yoga is the only way. I’m happy you found the Yoga that fits your body, mind and spirit.  Now pardon me while I go find mine.

If you are a human, just like me, don’t try to convince me that with your system I can become a Level I Yoga teacher in a weekend workshop.   It’s impossible.

And if I mention my Iyengar background to you, don’t smirk. Yes, it has happened. Don’t look at me as if I need de-programming.  My Iyengar background keeps my students safe.  Will you break a sweat in my class?  Perhaps during Surya Namaskar.  Maybe not.  Do we care?  Is Yoga a hard-core cardiovascular exercise?  On the other hand, will you learn how to modify each pose to suit where your body is that day?  Will you be in a quiet and safe environment?  Will you be mindful of the body and the breath?  Yes.

Finally, if you design, manufacture or sell Yoga equipment or clothing, I want you to know that I choose to no longer be manipulated by your advertising.  Tell me what your product is, how it works and why I might want to have it.  But be honest about it.  Don’t make me feel less of a Yogi because I haven’t purchased the latest mat, the trendy clothes, the coolest block.  Seriously.  Do you think Patanjali had a foam block?

Yoga in America is in a strange place.  It’s being diluted and pushed and pulled and turned into something I don’t believe it was ever meant to be. It’s becoming overpriced, over-marketed and elitist. The question new students usually ask, “Am I flexible enough to practice Yoga?” seems to be slowly changing to “Am I pretty enough/handsome enough/ sexy enough to practice Yoga?”  I hope I’m not the only one who finds that sad.