Zen and the Art of Peacekeeping

Yoga doesn't get you a pass on life

Here's the thing: Yoga doesn't get you a pass on life.

It's been a little bit frantic around here lately (I guess that can happen when you light a fire under your ass) and it hasn't always been easy to find time to ground myself and connect to who, what and where I am right now.

Yoga is usually how I ground myself, it's how I meet myself wherever I am.

But lately I've been skipping time for these grounding practices in favour of getting one more thing ticked off my to do list.

It's not that I'm grindingly busy. I'm excited and motivated and energised by what I've got going on. When you doing what you love you get less tired, I'm sure of that.

But the nervous system needs downtime even from enthusiasm and when I don't make time to get real with myself on my mat, it shows up in my life off the mat.

On Saturday morning I woke up early. It was a stunning autumn morning and I decided to go for a walk on the beach instead of practicing yoga inside. But before I went for the walk I decided to quickly check my email.

Ten hours later I got up from my computer.

There are compelling reasons why I spent my entire Saturday on the computer instead of outside in the sun helping my boyfriend dig out our old fence and prepare the posts for the new fence. They have mostly to do with a new website that I was planning to launch this week, which will now be launched next week.

I was certainly compelled by it at the time. In retrospect, it all seems a little less compelling. But that's what a little perspective will do for you, I guess.

So I sat at my desk all day, cursing at my abortive attempts to rewrite code that I don't even understand. I looked out the window at my boyfriend working in the garden and I envied him.

I also felt guilty for not helping him and my guilt made me exaggerate my displeasure at the work I was doing on my website. Whenever my boyfriend came in to check on me I felt the need to make sure he understood I wasn't having fun in there while he was out working. So I complained more about the cursed code and the endless links that I had to fix.

I didn't take a break.

I didn't go for a walk.

I didn't even go and sit in the sun for ten minutes breathing in those last beautiful rays of autumn sun.

By the end of the day I was a wreck. I was emotionally, mentally and physically spent.

So...

I picked a fight with my boyfriend. I burst into tears. I had a little meltdown.

It wasn't pretty.

Fortunately, thanks largely the last few years of regular yoga and meditation practice, I was also able to see myself with a little tenderness.

So I gave myself a pass on one bad day, read some beautiful poetry and sent myself off to bed.

When I shared this story with the 30 days of yoga participants one person said that she appreciated my honesty. She said that she had somehow imagined that as a yoga teacher I would be above this kind of frustration. So I wanted to talk a little bit about the idea that yoga is about transcending life's challenges.

As I understand yoga, it is the practice of meeting ourselves wherever we are. That means meeting ourselves, with courage and compassion, even when we are in a place of fear or anger or sadness. Rather than transcending our fears, it means meeting them. It means going through, rather than around, our fears and it means being able to look at ourselves, just as we are, with acceptance and love.

The vast array of practices that make up the path of yoga are all designed to increase our well-being and restore us to our original, unified, state. This state is called samadhi and although it is sometimes translated as bliss, I don't believe that it means the kind of trance-like bliss that involves avoiding all discomfort. Discomfort, like change, is a condition of our lives in these bodies.  

My understanding of samadhi is being able to remain fully aware, fully awake, under all conditions - even conditions that might evoke in us discomfort or fear.

The longer I practice yoga the more I notice a certain awareness that remains with me even as I allow my thoughts and feelings to lead me down a path of suffering. This awareness is always there and, if I make the time to connect with it through yoga, it always offers me a place of refuge amongst the maelstrom of my own dramas and stories.

Some people call that place of refuge God. I think of it as an awareness and presence which is always with me because it is my own essential nature. I can always rest back into that place of spaciousness and compassion because it is actually my own best self.

Ultimately, this is what yoga is about for me. Yes, yoga has given me the ass of a woman ten years younger. Yes, it has strengthened my abs, fixed my dicky back and healed my gammy hip. Yoga has done all those things for me and, if you practice regularly, it will probably do those things for you too. But I practice yoga primarily because it is a path back to my original nature.

On days like Saturday when my life off the mat reveals the results of neglecting my life on the mat for a few days, I remember why I practice yoga.

Yoga is not going to get me a pass on life. I'm still going to have to deal with new websites that don't work the way I want them to. I'm still going to lose my perspective some days. I'm probably even going to keep picking fights with my boyfriend at the worst possible moment.

But I will have a path back to that place of refuge, a way to recognise my true self in the midst of the drama and, if I choose to, to come home to myself.

Shame-free Yoga Part 2: Can shame be a positive learning experience?

I had so many interesting comments and responses to my post last week about shame and yoga that I found myself with more questions on the whole topic of yoga and shame.

In particular, my friend Nick suggested that there was a difference between a teacher "creating" shame, on the one hand, and "triggering old shame" on the other. He wondered whether there was any difference between triggering old shame and triggering any other kind of emotional release through yoga, an experience which I freely admit is a part of my experience of yoga and something which I accept and even embrace as an important and positive part of how yoga brings me home to my authentic self. 

I believe that the yogic path is the path through, rather than around, our shadows. So I can see Nick's point. If this teacher's style, tone, words or action reconnected me to old body-shame that I've been carrying around, then he created a powerful learning opportunity for me. There is no doubt that through this experience I've become more aware of the shame I still carry in my body, despite the powerful and positive shifts that yoga has brought me.

As I said in an email to a friend about this experience:

"It seems despite seeking out compassionate yoga teachers, I still carry the hard taskmaster, the shrill critic, within me.

I don't think that this teacher shamed me, he just triggered my own internal critic, who does a very good job of making me feel 'not good enough' - which is pretty much my definition of shame.

That internal critic gets a lot less airtime these days than in the past, so it caught me off-guard - very much off guard! But it was a useful learning experience. "

So, if I was carrying this old shame within me, and if it needed to be released or at least recognised, then didn't the teacher last week do what all yoga teachers aspire to do - i.e. create an opportunity for me to learn and grow and deepen in my yoga and my life?

I think he did. But shame is a very powerful emotion. It has the capacity to paralyze us. It certainly has the potential to send an otherwise curious new yoga student away from a class with no intention of ever returning.

I have no problem with the idea that I am not the teacher for every yoga student. If I was we would all be in trouble. So, if after one class you decide that I'm not the teacher for you and never return I won't be upset at all.

But if in your first class, or one of your early experiences of yoga, you feel so shamed that you decided never to try another yoga class, then I would be very sorry.

Shame is a much more powerful emotion than many of the others that arise in our yoga practices. Many of us will experience frustration as we begin (and, for that matter, as we continue) to practice yoga. Some of us will feel waves of almost inexplicable sadness as we release layers of grief that we may have been storing in our bodies. These feelings may be very frightening for some people, but research indicates that none of them have the almost universal ability to paralyze us that shame has.

It is for this reason that I am especially mindful, as a yoga teacher and as a human-being, of the most common shame triggers. Sadly, our bodies are one of the most common sites of shame.

I agree with Nick that once a teacher comes to know a student well, and once that student knows and trusts the teacher, there is a powerful space in which a teacher may gently encourage a student to extend themselves beyond their comfort zone. A wise and intuitive teacher will know what each student is capable of doing, which is often more than that student suspects.

I've certainly have yoga teachers encourage me to try poses or go to places in my poses that I believed to be beyond me. When I trust those teachers enough I'll go even where I believe I cannot go. That is the beauty of a trusting teacher student relationship.

In this case, it may be that the teacher has such strong intuition that he saw that I not only carried 'shame' baggage but that I had the strength and the self-awareness to be able to process that shame. He may even have knowingly poked into my weak spot to show me what was lying beneath the surface. If he did, he certainly created a profound learning opportunity for me.

It takes careful judgement to know when a student has the support and tools to process a stored emotion as strong as shame without creating new shame.

I'm happy to admit that I will generally do what I can to avoid triggering shame in my classes, but I also accept that at the end of the day I cannot control what arises in people as they practice with me. I'm quite sure that there are people who have been in my classes who could tell us all a story about how my choice of words or adjustment triggered their own feelings of shame.

Shame is such a widely shared experience and can leave such deep wounds that all yoga teachers and yoga students are likely to need to face it at some point. I only hope that I can create a safe and supportive environment in which for my students to experience whatever may arise as they practice yoga.

Shame-free yoga: teaching yoga without triggering body shame

As I grow into my role as a yoga teacher I've been thinking a lot about how I can create a truly safe space for men and women to explore yoga. In particular I've been thinking about how powerful the messages of body-shame are in our culture, and about how this affects the process of teaching yoga here in the West.

I want to tell you a story to explain what I mean.

A little over a week ago I went to a yoga workshop with a visiting international yoga teacher. He's pretty famous and several of my yogi friends had recommended him. The way they talked about him I had the impression that he had something special going on, something above and beyond your average yoga teacher.

Obviously, I wanted to learn all I could from him so, although he taught in a style that I don't practice regularly, I went along.

The first morning, after dragging myself out of the house at 5.30 am, I found myself on my mat in a setting that although in some ways familiar was in many other ways quite, quite foreign to me.

Unlike my yoga teachers, who have been mostly women, this teacher yelled instructions across the room.

"Straight that leg!' he called to the person behind me, "Staight that leg!"

I glanced back to see that the person behind me was in a pose in which, according to my yoga teacher training, insisting on a straight leg before the hamstring is naturally ready to open could compromise the spine.

My mind was suddenly busy. It leapt into 'judgment' gear, as I assessed whether or not - in my opinion - each of the cues he yelled out across the room was in fact 'safe' for the student at which it was directed.

Moment by moment I struggled to pull myself back into the full presence of my own practice, my breath and the sensations of my own body. But eventually, as I found a rhythm in the flow of the familiar poses, I was able to release my grip on my own ideas about what was happening and just experience it.

It was going well.

Until, that is, he decided to direct his attention at me.

He approached my mat as I worked gently to ease my body into a complex twisting forward bend, one that demanded a little more openness in the hips than was available to me at six in the morning.

"Why is your knee there?" he asked. "Why don't you lower the knee?"

"It doesn't seem to want to lower this morning," I replied, not yet too disconcerted. I'd been in many classes before when my knee wasn't ready to lower and teachers had generally left it at that.

But not this guy. He sat down beside me and shook my knee with his hand.

"Tight." he declared. "You are very tight."

He wasn't saying tight as thought it was a complement, in case there is any ambiguity. It was clear that tight was not what my hip was supposed to be. He slapped at my knee a few times in what appeared to be an attempt to convince my hip to suddenly release and the knee to lower. The slapping didn't produce the results he was hoping for.

Instead, I felt a surge of heat in my face. My heart began to beat faster and I suddenly realised that I was about to burst into tears. I started breathing even more deeply and closed my eyes in an effort to stave off the tears. The closed eyes and deep breathing must have looked like a profound yogic moment to him because he said:

"Yes, yes. Very good. Keep breathing and this tightness will go away."

Much to my relief, and thereby proving his own point, he then went away.

Then the tears came. They surprised me. I've experienced tears in yoga. Tears sometimes come as I breathe my way into a deeper opening in a pose and, in doing so, let go of emotional baggage I've been carrying in my body. I've come to recognise and even welcome those tears.

These were not those tears. These were tears, I see in retrospect, of shame.

Reading Dr Brene Brown's wonderful book 'I Thought It Was Just Me' has helped me recognise shame where I previously might have suspected grief. There has been so much grief in my life in the past ten years that every unexplained outpouring of pain and tears tends to get passed off as a release of stored grief.

But this was not grief. This was shame.

Because like so many women, like so many people, I have been raised in a culture that is rife with messages of shame about my body.

Our bodies, we are told, are too hairy, too lumpy, too noisy, too big, too scarred, too heavy and too smelly.

Then you begin to practice yoga and, for one thing, you begin to appreciate your body for what it can do. It can hold you in a balancing pose. It can carry you through a flowing sequence of standing poses. Your arms grow stronger and that matters more than whether or not they look good in an evening gown, especially since you never wear and evening gown. Your legs grow strong and that matters more than whether or not they look like they did when you were twenty.

But shame can be insidious. As I began to shed some of my shameful feelings about my body, I accumulated new ones.

Those damn hips that simply wouldn't release into the deceptively named 'easy cross-legged pose' became a source of shame for me.

Over time, I found yoga teachers who led me past that shame into an even deeper experience of true body love. Those same teachers told me that my readiness to teach yoga depended not on the openness of my hips but on the openness of my heart and on my own personal commitment to my yoga practice.

But the traces of those decades of body shame remain.

On my mat last week as a well-meaning and, I'm sure, quite compassionate man slapped at my knee and deemed my body to be "too tight", my own private body shames were triggered.

I suspect that his style of teaching, handed down to him as it was by his teacher in India, was quite suitable for Indian men. Perhaps they had not been raised on the diet of shaming body messages that we have been raised on in the West. I'm sure it is suitable for some people in the West as well, people who have already found a deep ground of resilience in the face of body-shame triggers.

But for the rest of us, for most of the women I know and most of the people who come to my classes, I'm aware that yoga can all too easily become simply another place in which to beat ourselves up about the inadequacies of our bodies.

As a yoga teacher my commitment is to be mindful of that context in which I teach. My commitment is to teach in a way which, as far as possible, reinforces positive experiences of and messages about our bodies. My commitment is to teach without shame. 

Have you ever experienced body-shame while practicing yoga? What do you think a yoga teacher can do to help avoid creating more body-shame in yoga classes? Do you even think that this is something yoga teachers should be thinking about?

I'll have a collaboration sandwich, please

Kelly and I are cooking up a great collaboration - co-facilitating the next Off the Mat: Yoga in Action group in Wellington

I read a post by Amanda Farough last week where she declares that 'collaboration trumps competition'. She was writing about web designers. When I told her that we face the same challenges in the yoga community she was a little surprised.

'I never realized that even in the most peaceful, heartwarming vocation, the creeping nature of competitiveness still lurks.'

But there it is, even in the most peaceful, heartwarming vocation - the creeping nature of competition is lurking. Let me paraphrase Amanda -

Yoga studios. Visiting yoga teachers. Yoga retreats. Yoga intensives. Yoga iPhone apps. Yoga DVDs and CDs. Yoga online. Yoga spas. Yoga classes at gyms.

Wow.

No wonder we can so easily get up in competing for a piece of the yoga pie!

Here in Wellington there are lots of yoga teachers in a smallish town. Increasingly that's the story all over the world. So many of us have been transformed by yoga and want to share it with others that it can seem the population of yoga teachers is growing faster than the population of yoga students.

In times like that it is so easy to feel threatened. Most people I know who teach yoga in Wellington are barely getting by. We charge very little for our classes because a) we want as many people as possible to experience yoga and b) people don't seem to be willing to pay more. 

When you are barely making ends meet or, which is not uncommon in the yoga world, not making ends meet at all - it's not hard to understand why you might feel some fear when yet another new teacher or studio shows up in town.

I know for myself that I'm always aware of not wanting to step on any other yoga teacher's toes. I'm working hard to build my own yoga community of students but I want to do it without 'taking' students from anyone else. Between worrying about paying my own bills and worrying about straying into anyone else's territory, it's easy to lose the love.

But, as Amanda pointed out in the context of her web-design work, it was the love that got us all into this in the first place. We teach yoga because of what yoga has given us, a deeper connection to our deepest selves and, quite simply, lots and lots of love.

I can't say it better than Amanda,

I love code. I live, breathe, eat, and sleep design. I love people. The combination of the three is why violetminded got started in the first place. Love, baby. Sure, somewhere along the line, I’ve gotta market and self-promote. I may even try to make a bit o’ scratch. But money isn’t not what drives me. It's not my currency."

Replace 'code' with 'yoga', 'design' with 'conscious activism/service' and 'violetminded' with 'Zen Peacekeeper' and you've got my story in a nutshell. Sure, somewhere along the line, I've gotta market and self-promote but money isn't what is driving me. Love is driving me. Love and a whole heap of enthusiasm. 

Which is why, given the choice, I'll take a collaboration over a competition any day. That and the fact that I have never, ever come up with an idea that wasn't improved by the input of another brain and heart.

Of course there are some projects that are solo by their very nature. Writing the first draft of my memoir was a solo undertaking. But even then, I couldn't have done it without friends who were willing to read early drafts and now - joy of joys - I have my agent as a collaborator on the next draft. 

When it comes to yoga, I'm grateful for my Wellington sangha (community) of teachers. I'm grateful for people who are brave enough to move past the fear we must all feel sometimes and find the magical spaces in which we can work together to make something bigger and better than what any of us could have done by ourselves.

Today I especially want to give a shout out to:

• Kelly Fisher and Lynda Miers-Henneveld of Yoga Unlimited
• Melissa Billington of Myoga
• Kara-Leah Grant of The Yoga Lunchbox
• Tyag Fenton of Yoga for Freedom
• Seka Ojdrovic of Yoga Sangha (with me!)

These five have all collaborated with me in some way or another over the past year as I've found my feet in the yoga world and I'm grateful to them all.

These days I'm buzzing with ideas about more collaborations, here in Wellington and across the globe and I gotta tell you, there's something mighty appealing about the variety and spice of a collaboration sandwich. Beats competition any day on my menu.

What about you? How does competition, fear and a sense of scarcity creep up on you? Is there a collaborative culture in your field of work? Can you imagine what flavours would be in your dream collaboration sandwich?

How do I become a yoga teacher?

Me, teaching outdoor yoga as part of the Climate Festival in Wellington last year

There is a great conversation going on over at The Yoga Lunchbox on the subject of how to become a yoga teacher.

I've contributed my thoughts over there and decided to reproduce them here because I'd love to hear your responses and thoughts as well.

So how do we become yoga teachers? Speaking for myself, this is how I became a yoga teacher.

First I become myself. Yoga helps me bring my head and heart, body and mind, breath and spirit all into alignment. As I have become more my own authentic, healthy self, I have become of more service to everyone around me. For me, teaching yoga is part of that service.

So first there was my own process of unfolding and reuniting with myself through yoga. Then there was a deepening of my desire to serve, which seems to have arisen naturally from that process. In that deepening was a desire to share this process, yoga, which have given me so much.

Then came the work of equipping myself with the skills to teach. Teaching yoga is not the same as practicing yoga, nor is it quite the same as 'instructing' yoga.

There is a process of deepening into the role of teaching yoga just as there is a process of deepening into our yoga sadhana. Teaching is predominantly about a relationship between the teacher and the student. The quality of that relationship plays a large part in determining the quality of the teaching.

It's a symbiotic relationship, the learning and the rewards flow in both direction. But there is a specific responsibility upon the teacher, so ensuring that I have the skills and knowledge (as well as the personal practice and commitment to our own constant unfolding) to teach wisely and safely is a fundamental requirement for me.

There are many ways to develop those skills and that knowledge. Some of us will have teaching, coaching, mentoring and communication skills from other areas of our lives that will serve us well as teachers of yoga. Some of us will learn to teach yoga predominently from our own yoga teacher, in the process of being taught. Others will attend specialized yoga teacher training courses. All these are valuable paths. None of them can guarantee us that we are ready to teach.

How do we know if we are ready to teach?

For that we have to be honest with ourselves and listen to the best teacher we all have, the wise and profoundly truthful voice within us that already knows the answer to all our questions."

What does yoga have to do with peacekeeping or Afghanistan?

When I started blogging I was living in Afghanistan, working as a human rights officer with the UN peacekeeping mission. These days I'm hosting '30 days of yoga'.

What happened?

When did this become a yoga blog? What does all this yoga have to do with peace-building, world-saving and human-rights defending? What does it have to do with Afghanistan?

Firstly, this isn't a 'yoga blog'.

You are as still just as likely to find me writing here about young women activists in Afghanistan, finding your purpose or how to write without writing as you are to find me writing about whether or not it is best to practice only one kind of yoga. 

What links all these topics together is my understanding that we each have a unique and essential role to play in the world.

Each of us has a unique set of experiences, skills and qualities that makes us perfectly qualified to do what it is that we do best.

When we discover where our passion and purpose lie, we are then free to follow our own authentic path to service in the world.

In my life the sense of purpose came early. What took me longer was the process of unravelling the well-hidden fears that lay beneath my good intentions and which, as long as they were unexamined and unaddressed, undermined my ability to serve.

Yoga and meditation have been my path to meet my own self.

In the sometimes terrifying stillness and clarity of the meditation cushion and the yoga mat I have finally kept company with the thoughts and feelings that I had long preferred to avoid.

By holding my seat, continuing to breath and leaning into the softness of my own exposed wounds I have been able to first glimpse, and then rest into the spaciousness that has always been here, waiting for me to sit still long enough to come home to it. 

What all of this has to do with my work as a human rights advocate and peace-builder is this:

"If we want there to be peace in the world, we have to be brave enough to soften what is rigid in our hearts, to find the soft spot and stay with it. We have to have that kind of courage and take that kind of responsibility. That's the true practice of peace."

                              Pema Chodron, Practicing Peace in Times of War.

30 days of yoga is coming back

The 30 days of yoga challenge I hosted here in January was such a success that I've decided to repeat the event in March.

Starting 21 March I'll be hosting another 30 day yoga sadhana. For those of you in the Northern Hemisphere, it could be a fantastic way to begin spring. For those of us in the south, it can be hard to maintain our regular yoga practice as the days get shorter and darker - this is a great way to get the support we all need to take the best care of ourselves possible.

As with the last 30 day sadhana you'll have a choice as to how you participate. You can choose between the "Exactly What You Need" package and the "I Know What I Need" package.

Option 1: Exactly What You Need

This is the fully supported approach to the 30 days of yoga. If you are new to yoga or need an injection of new enthusiasm for your practice, this is the package for you. I'll make sure you have a practice which meets your needs, fits into your life and addresses your specific issues. 

How do I do that from all the way over here in New Zealand? Easy. You'll fill in a short questionnaire so that I can select the right practice for you and then I'll send you a customised video for you to follow at home each day.

You'll also get weekly emails from me encouraging you in your practice and you can email me any time with questions about your yoga practice. You'll be part of a community of people around the world who will be practicing alongside you.

What do people who have done the 30 days of yoga "Exactly What You Need" package have to say about it?

“It’s wonderful! Honestly, you couldn't have known my entire history and written a better program for me there.  When I first did [the pose], I honestly almost cried.  I've NEVER come across that before in any of my classes or books and it's EXACTLY what I need."

                    Cath, 30 day yoga participant

“Marianne, I am finally starting to understand the breathing thanks to you! I know this is such an important part of yoga, but no instructor so far has really explained when and how to breath like you have and I have already felt the breath move my body through the poses you have laid out.  I also like the segments, and I can pause your video and go through more of the segments my body wants that day following my breath.”

                    Mel, 30 day yoga participant

The 'Exactly What You Need" package costs $100, including your own yoga video and ongoing support throughout the 30 days.

Option 2: I Know What I Need

This is a great option if you already have a strong foundation in yoga and have a regular home practice, perhaps one that has lapsed. You'll sign up for the 30 days of yoga and practice along with us, but you'll be doing your own practice.

There is no cost for this option but you'll still get regular emails from me encouraging you in your commitment to a regular yoga practice and you can join our Twitter chats or join in discussions with other 30 days of yoga participants here on my blog.

Register your interest

Have a think about it and if you are interested, email me by using the link in the left-hand column (just above the 'Categories' list).

If you are in any doubt, I'll let Melanie have the last word:

“If you want to do yoga at home, Marianne is your girl... Wow Marianne, this yoga routine is blowing my socks off.”

                 Melanie, 30 day yoga participant

More on whether or not it is "better" to practice only one type of yoga

Last week I wrote a post asking “Is it better to do only one kind of yoga?. The comments on this post were so insightful and interesting that I decided to write a follow-up post looking at some of the responses and saying a little bit more about my experiences.

Two of the responses came from women with whom I have travelled closely along the yoga path. They are kindred spirits so it didn’t surprise me at all that they, like me, described themselves as ‘straw-suckers’.

KL said “I’ve been a straw sucker myself mainly, and sometimes feel "less than" because I've been unable to dig deep in the desert. Is that just how circumstances have manifested around me or is it because I’m lacking in commitment and focus?”

Laura F described similar feelings in her comment: “I think I may have been a bit hard on myself when, once in while, I feel like doing something aside from Kundalini.”

I think these feelings of “less than” are very common and therefore important to acknowledge. So I love, admire and thank KL and Laura for their honesty.

Life is full of opportunities for us to feel shame about who we think we should be and are not. It saddens me that yoga and our yoga practice often becomes yet another one of these opportunities.

I know KL well enough to know that she has developed a high degree of shame resilience (to borrow a term from one of the best books I’ve ever read about social expectations, perfectionism, women and shame, by Dr Brene Brown), but not all women have this resilience and as a yoga teacher and compassionate human I am mindful of not providing new shame triggers for the women (and men) who come to me for yoga teaching.

Another close companion of mine on the yoga path, Kelly, had a much more positive take on her ‘straw-sucker’ approach.

“I am a serious straw sucker. Committed even. I think there is so much to be learned and there are so many wise teachings available to us on this planet that I want to stay as open as possible to it all. What I've found is that gradually, a certain pattern emerges from the nuggets of wisdom I've collected and forms a cohesive picture. Where there is convergence of information from many different sources, there tends to be a strong resonance for me. When the good people of the world, the serious seekers and the wise leaders have independently come to the same conclusion I know there must be a universal value or truth to their words. Where there is disagreement, there is still a wealth of value to be gained. The more information I have in my toolkit, the more people I can attempt to understand or to connect with. As a teacher, I find that immensely valuable. As a human being, I find that absolutely necessary.”

I personally share many aspects of Kelly’s experience. I’ve learned from many great teachers; some have been yoga teachers, some have been Buddhist teachers, two of them are my mother and father – born-again Christians who live with true service and compassion.

I also find it useful to be able to draw on different approaches when I work with students. Different styles, different language, different practices will work for different people.

On the other hand, I have total respect for the teacher who has found an approach, a language and a set of practices that works for her and who teaches this approach exclusively. She knows that she will attract to her the people for whom this approach resonates and works. That also makes great sense to me.

Evolution towards diving deeper?

Radha suggested that the difference between drawing from different traditions and immersing oneself in just one tradition was a matter of progression or evolution. She explained that in her experience:

“When you're ready, you'll find the one practice and stick with it, but until then will keep searching and trying different things, which will be useful, informative and help you grow and you'll convince yourself it's the right way because we all want to feel what we do is right!! When your consciousness evolves to the next level, you probably won't even talk about the one practice and one practice alone that you do. And you'll understand why, but there aren't words to emphasise the importance of one practice, just an individual souls own experience.”

I have to confess that this was the comment that gave me the most pause. Unlike all the other commenters, Radha seemed to be suggesting that one approach was better than the other. That one is an evolution on from the other, a progression, a deepening, an improvement. Perhaps she is right. Perhaps I’m just convincing myself that my approach is ‘right’ for me because my consciousness hasn’t evolved to the point that I can understand the importance of one practice. I happily concede this is quite possible.

In all fairness, my description of my approach to yoga and the spiritual path may not have been very clear. Radha seemed to have been left with the impression that I was “dipping my toes” into the water. In response to this she expressed a beautiful wish:

“I hope everyone finds their one practice soon, it will be nothing like the gentle toe dipping of different practices. It's like diving into water, however far under the ground it may be, and stopping breathing, and fighting and struggling for your survival, and then magically realising that it's ok, you can surrender because you have actually always been able to breathe in that very water, you just weren't aware of it. It's the hardest thing in life to do, but whilst dipping in different waters, you'll be safe from this experience.”

Deep water and thin ice

When I read this I knew that I recognised Radha’s description of the deep water. Although I am interested in learning about and from different traditions, I have certainly found the practices that throw me into my own deep water. I’ve felt the ground fall away from under my feet. I’ve been left floating in the waters of not-knowing and I’ve learned that – despite my powerful desire to hang on to something solid – it is possible to surrender to that not-knowing and let everything be exactly as it is. So perhaps the straw-sucking metaphor was misleading. Perhaps a better image is that I was always standing on such thin ice that it only took 21 days of a zen-style meditation practice to throw me in over my head in my own deep water.

Different appetites and a varied diet

On the other hand, my friend T-bone (yes, he was the person who I was eavesdropping on in the first place) proposed an analogy of our practices being like our food:

“I think of spiritual path like the food I eat. What works for me may not provide you with what you need and vice versa. Over time, my appetite changes and we all know variety is the garam masala. Personally, I like my diet varied with high concentrations of my favorites while having the odd import is good too. Samskara, Karma and Dharma is so intensely individual. What Marianne overheard was actually part of a very personal narrative. Rather than 'better' (after all upon comparison one always loses through dividing, separating) perhaps more union-fostering would be 'relevant' its more kind, non-violent even.”

Thanks T-Bone! You rock figuratively as well as literally. Yes, it is possible to be a sensitive and committed yoga teacher and a rock star. T-Bone is living proof of that.

Better vs. More Useful - choosing union over separation

I was so glad that T-Bone took issue with the word “better” in the title of this post. It’s not a union-fostering word at all, and since union is at the heart of all yoga it seems a poor choice of word for this question.

I much prefer to ask what is most useful for each person. Which practices add most to your well-being and to your deepening awareness of the union of all beings? If the practice of yoga (and most Buddhist practices) is intended to help dissolve the illusion that we are separate, then it seems unhelpful to ask a comparative question that emphasises that very illusion.

Dhyan made a similar point, albeit more beautifully, when he pointed out that:

“There has never been any real reason to worry since all small individual rivers are already on their way to the ocean, to the Whole. It is not about swimming, it is about relaxing and to float with the river in a basic trust that life already leads towards the sea of consciousness, towards the Whole.”

Word, bro!

BZ also suggested that “once you've climbed the yoga tree, you can sit on any of its branches and get the same view.  … I've found that good teachers and different types of yoga help me to connect to the same source.”

This has also been my experience. The source remains the same. The practices and paths that help us connect to that source may vary, but we’ll recognise it when we get there.

We are all one, but we are not all the same

Many of the comments reinforced T-Bone’s point that “what works for me may not provide you with what you need and vice versa.” Jim pointed out that:

“Everyone is different. It is so great that many people can try different things in which to improve themselves, hopefully finding one or a few that really 'hit pay dirt' so easily. But like some of your readers pointed out, sometimes there are few choices. All things change. Maybe someone's practice is 'perfect' for them, but there is no guarantee that it will be that way for their whole life. Our 'outer' practice is just that. It helps with our 'inner' practice so one shouldn't get too attached to it, no matter how good it is.”

Kelly said:

“I think it comes down to knowing your own nature. Some of us are straw suckers and would never be satisfied only drinking from one well. Some have to go deep and stay in one pool. And I think it depends on who you are which path you take. I too, love and respect that deep-digger friend of yours immensely. It is my opinion that he is on the right path for him. And I think I'm on the right path for me. And we've got a lot to learn from each other. Beware judging yourself harshly. When you follow the path that feels authentic to you, whether it's a path strewn with holes poked by your straw or one deep channel downward, you can't go wrong.”

True dat, sister!

The final word on all of this goes to Laura F, who made a very good – and very practical point.

“Perhaps as a beginner, like me, it would help to dig deep - to learn how to stay focused, work on your commitment, intention etc, just to strengthen your yoga base.”

Laura, I think you are probably right. That’s certainly been my experience and the advice of my teachers and at the end of the day that's all I've got to go on.

Thanks to all the people who commented including the awesome comments that I haven’t quoted here because this post was becoming very, very long. I’d love to keep this conversation going so let me know what you think!

Yoga DVD review: Kundalini yoga by Gurmukh

In keeping with the theme of my last post, which was all about whether or not it is good to try different kinds of yoga, this week I tried a new yoga DVD.

The DVD was Kundalini Yoga With Gurmukh. That's an affiliate link, by the way, first time I've ever used one and I want to make sure it's totally transparent! If you click the link and decide to buy the DVD I get a small commission which I can then use to buy more awesome stuff from Amazon. Just so we all know what's going on here!

Anyway, I'd only ever practiced Kundalini yoga once before, on the kitchen floor in my guesthouse in Afghanistan with a lovely Spanish woman who didn't speak much English, so it was all quite new to me.

The DVD is fantastic. It's very simple, no fancy menus or options, just Gurmukh and four students in a clearing in a forest somewhere. There are four sections to the practice: Awaken; Energize; Strengthen; and Relax. They each do what they say. 

As Gurmukh herself says at the beginning of the DVD, this practice is likely to be physically challenging for every body, but it's doable by anyone. Actually, the practice on the video is not doable by anybody, if you have significant mobility limitations or serious injuries, this is probably not for you. I know Gurmukh has different DVDs for pre- and post-natal practice as well. But other than that, I think most everyone will be able to get through this practice, as long as they work at their own pace.

Gurmukh herself is something of a yoga superstar. She's 58 years old in this DVD and if that isn't a testament to the life-giving powers of yoga then I don't know what it. Also, her students include Cindy Crawford and David Duchovny, if the back of the DVD is to be believed. Of course, if you teach yoga near Hollywood, you can't be judged for having the occasional celebrity student. Most of all, I loved seeing her face as she watched her demonstrating students. There was clearly love in her eyes as she encouraged them to keep pushing, flapping, twisting and punching (yes, punching, you'll have to see it for yourself).

If you are accustomed to a slow, deep asana practice like Iyengar, then this practice may be quite unfamiliar to you. But I think it is a wonderful, energising practice for the morning and I know that there is a profound wisdom behind each of the practices. Kundalini is sometimes called the 'king of all yoga paths' because of it's emphasis on awakening the Kundalini energy, which is part of the heart of all yoga. I think this DVD is probably a really solid introduction to the practice if you don't have a Kundalini teacher near to you.

I'm going to write a follow-up to Wednesday's post, the comments have been so rich and interesting that I want to talk about them a little bit more. But here is a hint as to my own current experience of exploring different styles of yoga.

I've already confessed that I love to try different styles of yoga, but I have also found that the benefits of yoga (and most other things) come from consistent, regular practice. So when I explore a new practice I explore it with some committment. In that spirit I'll be shaking and swinging along with Gurmukh many times over in the days and weeks to come. Let me know if you are joining me!

Is it better to only do one kind of yoga?

I have a friend who I admire very much.

He's a yoga teacher, like me. But unlike me he went to the Yoga University in India (seriously, there is a Yoga University, how awesome is that?). Unlike me he lived on an ashram in India. Unlike me he studied under the famous Swami Satyananda and immersed himself deeply into one yogic tradition.

We were talking about this the other day, his commitment to one tradition and to a depth of understanding in his yoga practice and teaching.

Okay, I'll be completely honest.

He was talking to some other people about this. I was eavesdropping on his conversation while I was ostensibly having another conversation with another good friend.

My friends are very tolerant and generous with these eavesdropping tendencies of mine, which I blame on being a writer. In particular, a writer whose agent has suggested she needs to work on her dialogue. These days I am always eavesdropping on conversation. Be warned. If you are sitting on the train behind me engrossed in conversation with your friend/husband/daughter, I am probably furiously scribbling down everything you say. Just to learn about dialogue, of course.

Anyway, as I was eavesdropping I heard him say that he believed it was better to dig deeply until you hit water, rather than digging many shallow holes all over the place.

I leaned over, as I am wont to do, and interjected.

"But what if the water lies just beneath the surface?" I asked

"It generally doesn't." He replied, "At least not in the desert I live in."

"Well," I responded, "some of us live in the wetlands. We don't even dig. We just lean down with a long straw and suck the goodness up."

Everyone laughed. I can be very witty, you know, and when I'm not my friends can be very tolerant and generous.

I was trying to be funny. It's true. But there was something serious beneath the silliness.

The serious question is whether or not it is possible to access the profound benefits of yoga by dipping into many different practices and traditions. Or is it necessary to dedicate ourselves to lengthy, indepth study and practice of one tradition?

Is there ever water just below the surface?

Or can different traditions and practice combine to create the same profundity that concentrated practice of one tradition promises?

For me, I get incredible joy and insight from practicing many different types of yoga. Sure, there are certain practices that I have learned are especially beneficial for me and I practice them regularly. But beyond these foundations of my yoga practice I like to explore new things and I really, really love to learn about and experience many of the different yogic traditions. 

I'd love to know what you think about this.