I read a hilarious article on the Internet this morning. It was about a yoga student who opened a studio - an official franchise of a popular style of yoga. He argued with his “Guru” (in this case, the owner of the franchise) about the carpet. Yes, the carpet. He thought the carpet was disgusting and attracted colonies of germs. The guru insisted on conformity in his yoga empire with regard to teaching method, sequence of ãsanas and carpets. The story ended with the resourceful man leaving the franchise and starting his very own style of yoga.
This story is just one example of how the modern world has become obsessed with the external aspects of yoga. I have come across articles questioning the ethics of a company that makes yoga pants for only thin people, articles that describe how yoga can “wreck the body”, fights between ‘under the knee cap yogis’ (who focus on the anatomy) and ‘dancer yogis’, who flow from one ãsana to the next, each claiming that theirs is the only authentic yoga.
I have encountered countless styles of yoga and I might want to try some like Anusara, Jivamukti, Kundalini and Acro-yoga. Anti-gravity yoga, laughter yoga or naked yoga might work for some, but not for me. Things like tantrum yoga, doga, hip hop yoga or yoga for foodies just make me want to laugh.
The fact remains that as long as we focus solely on the external aspects of yoga, we will continue to have these arguments about what is authentic yoga and what is not. And we will continue to worry about how our butt looks in those branded yoga pants and believe that if we can just lift our leg a few inches higher in this ãsana, we will have gained something essential to our existence.
Many paths, one goal
Superficially, humans are all different - different shapes and sizes, different ideas and motivations, different backgrounds and traditions. It’s only understandable that we would approach the physical practice of yoga in different ways. It’s when we move beyond the external body, into the subtle and spiritual levels that we discover that we are all the same. Yoga philosophy refers to this as our true self, cosmic self or Purusha . The goal of traditional yoga is the realization of the Purusha as our true self. In our asana-obsessed world, it is easy to forget this, although this is actually the foundation of the yoga tradition.
Let me state clearly here that I love the physical practice of yoga. If I don’t do some ãsanas every day, I feel like I have forgotten to brush my teeth. The practice of ãsanas will always remain an essential part of yoga, but hopefully, they will be a bridge to allow to you to move from the external to the internal, from the gross to the subtle, from the physical to the spiritual.
Let’s take Sirsãsana or headstand as an example. You can of course come up onto your head and stay there with the strength and alignment of the body. But one day, you realize that balancing on your head becomes easier when you are breathing deeply and feels effortless when the mind is focused. Slowly, you are moving from the gross to the more subtle elements of the practice.
Yoga sutras
The journey inwards from the physical to the subtle and final to the spiritual is elucidated clearly in the “Yoga Sutras of Patanjali”, compiled 2000 years ago by the sage Patanjali. The book is a collection of 198 concise sutras or adages. Much like haikus, the sutras use minimal words to convey a deep meaning.
There are no ãsanas described in the book. It shows us that yoga is not just a practice for the body but something that touches the physical, mental and spiritual. Through this book we are given the tools to live a purposeful life.
It’s fun to jump around on the mat and to achieve ãsanas that we never thought were possible; it is wonderful to lose weight and feel strong. But as yogis, we would be cheating ourselves if we missed out on the true gifts that yoga has to offer – discovery of the true self.
