January 24, 2017 § 1 Comment

Gosh, it’s been a while since I last wrote here. There’s been a lot going on in my world and many things have unfolded, changed, erupted, vanished, shifted at such a fast pace that my writing has not kept up with the reflexivity in my head.

The trip to Mysore offered a lesson in many things, but the one I want to talk about is the lesson of empowerment. Given the current socio-political climate, notions of power, empowerment and disempowerment in all its varied forms have been on my mind recently, from the personal to the social.

Let’s start with the personal. I went to Mysore with a practice routine that was a twice-a-week occurrence on account of a cyst-laden wrist and the advice of a PT who believed that it’s better to do the full expression of the pain-causing activity less frequently than to do a modified version more frequently. Shaped by current perspectives about the body, physical fitness, injuries and how to recover from them, this point of view is very much grounded in the physical, and thus, also views yoga as an inadequate fitness routine. I agree with him on that count. If you’re looking for ‘fitness’, there are far better programs out there to help you achieve your goals (calorie burn, weight loss, etc etc etc). This advice however, effectively distilled the role of the practice in my life and my relationship to it. It is, in Andrew Sullivan’s words, “a ritual that let’s the rest of my life breathe“.

In the weeks leading up to my departure for Mysore I sought to balance PT logic with the inner, embodied, as yet unarticulated knowing about the practice’s importance. (I think there is a part of my relationship with Ashtanga yoga that will never be able to be fully articulated, because the resonance goes so deep.)

Preparing for this trip meant giving myself permission to cut it short if things were not ‘working out’ in Mysore. There was also a fair amount of anxiety about what I had to do to mitigate cyst-related pain in a daily practice situation, how to avoid aggravating it, how should I modify my practice and should I modify at all? These questions eventually clarified an intention to preserve and protect my body going into Mysore. I resolved to put self-care and compassion above conforming to an external representation of what the practice was supposed to look like. I would show up each day and modify accordingly, tuning into the sensations around the left wrist and shoulders and letting those nerve messages guide the shape of my practice. This meant stepping, not jumping, even in led classes. Skipping Bhujapidasana, a 1-breath Kukkutasana, a clumsy-looking Supta Kurmasana exit and no or very short Utpluthis for pretty much the first month. What I discovered quickly, was that my fears of being called out for modifying the practice were completely unfounded. It’s not that Sharath didn’t see the changes I made – he really does know everything that goes on in that room – it’s that he saw me and my practice and he let me do it. By not calling me out (as some teachers would do), he was telling me that I know what’s best for my body and how to manage whatever pain or injury I’m experiencing. And in doing so, he empowered me. For someone whose personal narrative has mostly been about disempowerment, especially in relationships with authority figures, this is a massive shift in how I see myself, my ability to trust my body and my intuition about what actions are best suited for me at any particular time. A big deal. And this is why I have come to accept him as my teacher after years of skepticism and doubt.

The notion that we have the power to shape our lives is a tired New Age cliche and yet that doesn’t make it any less true. It is a lesson that keeps showing up in practice, because the the practice and experience of yoga is about challenging the limited mental projections we have about ourselves and the world around us: how we choose to see ourselves, who we are, what we are capable of accomplishing, our capacity for discomfort, etc. The ripples that come from stepping into and owning the power that each of us has is infinite, and also, potentially subversive. We have the power to choose to see the good, the kind, the fear in others, to empathize instead of projecting and blaming our insecurities. We have the power to behave in ways that draw healthy boundaries for ourselves, for standing up to narratives and behaviors that gaslight and disempower our faculties for critical thinking.

(It’s important here to highlight that I’m not denying the structural forces behind the social issues of our time, because this is the sort of argument that a good conservative would use to justify cutting programs for the most vulnerable in our society. No, I’m writing this specifically for the other affluent and privileged individuals who live in my world, who don’t have to worry about the color of their skin, where their next meal is coming from, or where they’re going to sleep tonight. These are the people who have the means to effect real change.)

Which brings me to the social: Coming out of the Women’s March last weekend I found another kind of power – the power to speak up and be heard and be counted for values that I believe are important. It was my political awakening, in an active, visible sense. As a Sociology major in college I’ve always been aware of power dynamics in society. This, along with years working as a paper-pusher in an autocratic government and then in PR, built and refined my personal bullshit detector, particularly as it relates to authority.  Being born and raised in an autocracy that basically runs on an apathetic, disempowered electorate in exchange for the creature comforts of modern living, I’ve long had a malaise around activism and skepticism of the real value of doing things like voting, marching, protesting…..all activities that represent a healthy, engaged citizenry in the democratic process. Last Saturday showed me how it has been in the State’s interest to keep me (and the other people of my home country) disempowered about our ability to effect real change. Because when people get together in civic spaces to speak up about the values that are important to them, it is a powerful experience. It is an embodied encounter, one increasingly rare in this Internet Age, and that experience empowers you even more because you see for yourself that you’re not alone in this cause that you’re championing. That together, we can make a difference, and this realization stays with you, energizes you and inspires you to keep the momentum going. This is real power and it’s up to us not to squander it.


Sthira Sukham

January 21, 2015 § 5 Comments

Last November I had an idea to create a different kind of yoga portrait. One that really focused on the form of different asanas instead of the individual. The opposite of the yoga selfie, or of any sort of instructional application really. I could see the images in my mind before we created them, and already knew who I wanted as my models to do which poses. The clarity of the vision was compelling, and although this would be the biggest photography project I had ever undertaken, I knew I had to do it. Fortunately everything fell into place pretty quickly. I had an overwhelming response to the call for models, we set up shop in the studio on a Saturday afternoon and my teacher was on-hand for asana guidance and assistance.

Yoga_SW Yoga_TvS Yoga_AP2 Yoga_DH

When it came time for me to articulate the statement for this project, shadows were the first thing that came to mind. Specifically, our own shadows and embracing them. That’s one of the secrets to unlocking the power of this practice in my opinion. If you really want this practice to change – transform – you and your life, it begins with looking at your shadows, accepting them and releasing them. Little did I know that just over a month after wrapping up this shoot I would have the opportunity to experience this in a very direct way, marking a new phase in my practice. I suppose that is what a Second Series practice does to you, but that is a story for another day. For now: photos. Enjoy.

Yoga_AP Yoga_PA Yoga_CG Yoga_AN


July 18, 2014 § 4 Comments

“This”, he said, “is the liminal line”, referring to the hand he held out, palmside down.

“Everything above it, is what we can see, feel, hear, and touch – what we are consciously aware of. Everything below it belongs to the subtle plane, the unknown. The breath lives above and below this line. The goal of yoga, therefore, is to lower the liminal line.

(Words: Steve Dwelley, Ashtanga Santa Barbara. Emphasis mine).

Dena Kingsberg

May 6, 2014 § 9 Comments

Just spent 3 days with this amazing woman in Santa Barbara, ahead of her commitments at the Confluence this weekend. Out of all the senior teachers, she is the one I have wanted to practice with for the longest time. I can’t explain why, but perhaps it has something to do with her words, her perspective on life and this practice and its potency that piqued my curiosity.

What is there to say that hasn’t been said already? This strong woman, full of humor, compassion, discipline, kindness and a beautiful voice – she has a way with words that simplifies the intangible elements of yoga practice into concepts that are easy to digest and apply. Her devotion to the Ashtanga vinyasa system, her unshakeable faith in it, inspires faith in you that this, maybe, is more than weird contortionistic exercises, that this path may actually be one where you could possibly connect with what is Sacred or Divine. Or both. Her convictions are compelling and infectious. Her touch is firm but gentle, instructions concise, sometimes a little curt, but when she’s there with you on your mat, there is nothing but trust and presence. She is with  you, even if there are 30 other people in the room waiting for adjustments of their own. We ended the workshop with a Mysore practice yesterday, and for a first-time practice with a new teacher, I have never felt safer or more relaxed.

After my trip to India I started to realize that I needed – more than ever – to find a Teacher of my own. One with whom I could go deep. Yes, we all know that we are our own teachers, that the practice, done over a consistent period of time, with devotion, is the best teacher. But a little help from experienced hands wouldn’t hurt, would it? The problem is, with so many teachers all around the world, how do you choose to commit before you’ve had a chance to practice with someone? That’s the benefit of workshops I think, giving you the chance to get the flavor and sense of what this teacher’s like before you decide to commit and travel halfway around the world to immerse yourself in their teaching. How lucky are we to have this privilege of choice. And yet, sometimes I wish we didn’t have that choice; that to study Ashtanga you just had to turn up on the doorsteps of a small house in Laksmipuram and surrender to everything that lay beyond that threshold.

This weekend clarified the search a little. I wouldn’t go so far to say that Dena’s my Teacher just yet, but I would definitely study with her again, given the chance. What I do know are the characteristics that I look for in a Teacher figure: someone strong, who is able to hold me accountable for my own practice, who inspires me to give of my best, who is able to point out or bring to the surface those elements of myself that I’m either not aware of or am avoiding. Someone who has walked the path, fallen, gone through their own darkness and come through the other side. Someone who knows what it means to be real and safe (in asana practice), and honoring SKPJ’s tradition without being dogmatic about it all. Someone, in other words, who has at least 20+ years of practice. And who is, preferably, a woman.


Dena on practice:

“Practice is a product of time, place and circumstance. Some creativity is needed in order for the practice to meet the needs of the yoga practitioner and their householder responsibilities.”

“Unrealistic expectations are the seeds of disappointment.”

“Don’t push into your limitations. Lean into them. You may find that these limitations move as you lean, then you keep leaning until your body tells you to stop.”

“You don’t arrive at (the full expression of) a pose from the first count. Sometimes you may not arrive until the third count, or the fifth count, or the fifteenth count. Give yourself the space to arrive.”

“It is not about how far you go, but how you get there that is important.”

On finding Mula Bandha:

“Imagine you had a burrito last night and the beans weren’t properly cooked, and now you’re in a crowded room trying not let others know that you’ve got gas. How do you hold it in?”


May 18, 2012 § 1 Comment


Thank you Guruji, for everything.

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