Rarely do I walk into a yoga class without hearing a teacher announce that yoga isn’t about poses. Yoga is far more
profound than simply striking a pose, the teacher will say; it’s so much more than mastering a physical movement. I agree completely. And yet, I must admit, sometimes I feel a little guilty when I hear these words.Why? Because I like poses. I love the feeling, pure and simple, of the mindful movements of yoga. I love the ever-changing parade of poses that welcomes me each morning. Just as a child runs through the summer grass for no reason but simple joy, I love feeling my body move through space, shifting through these ancient shapes that feel so good from inside out.
When I see a yogi in an amazing pose, every cell in my body shouts, “Yes, me too!” Curiosity wells up from deep inside, and I wonder what it feels like to be inside a body whose foot is wrapped behind the head, whose hands and toes reach up to the sky in a graceful teardrop shape, or whose spine is so free it undulates like water with each breath. I am swept up in wonder at the unimaginably complex creatures that we are and at the sheer beauty of life.
Sometimes I feel a little shallow admitting my love of poses, since I know the asanas are just the door through which we set out on the shining path of yoga. I learned early on that what makes these movements yoga and not gymnastics is our intention. We practice not for the glory of impressive contortions, but for the clarity and wisdom that comes from observing our minds as we move through the asanas.
From the outside, it may appear that we’re merely playing with our bodies, but on the inside, we’re exploring and changing our consciousness. But even when I’m not as present as I’d like to be, I am amazed that simply changing the position of my body can deeply change my life.
Asanas offer me a bag of yoga tricks that help alleviate imbalances and ailments in my body. When my stomach is upset, I’ve learned that lying back in a well-supported Supta Virasana does the trick; when I’m frazzled, I ease my legs up the wall into Viparita Karani. When I’m sluggish all I need are a few Sun Salutes, and when my mind is spinning I head for a long forward bend. This pragmatic approach to yoga once bothered me a little, since it didn’t feel true to the discipline’s lofty aims. But then I decided if yoga were to offer nothing more than physical health and vitality, this gift would most certainly uplift my spirit.
I know that I’m a kinder, wiser, and more caring person when my hips aren’t aching, when my nose isn’t running, and when my mind’s a little more at ease.
Falling and Falling and Falling Again
Just because I love the poses doesn’t mean I find them easy. In fact, their difficulty only seems to heighten their allure. A tricky pose glues my mind to the present moment, forcing me to be here now. I like staring a new challenge in the face, studying it from every angle, using all my wits and intelligence and ability to mold my body into the shape of the asana.
And I love the childlike glee when I finally figure out how to balance free and clear in a big-sky backbend that has eluded me for years. I love falling and falling and falling again out of Headstand and then one day, for whatever reason, not falling. Something inside has shifted; today I can do something that yesterday I couldn’t. What does that say about all the other things in my life I think I cannot do?