ASHTANGA YOGA: HOW PURE IS PURE ENOUGH?

Ashtanga is steeped in purity.

We're taking part in a tradition that is at once a social, cultural, mythic, and philosophic stew of ideas about pure and impure that has, what's more, now been lashed to a Western capitalist work ethic myth — "Get to the top through hard work."

The root texts that inform and shape our practice, the Vedas, Upanishads, Puranas, the Mahabharata and the Ramayana, as well as Patanjali's Yoga Sutras and subsequent Hatha Yoga texts, are infused with the idea of moving between states of purity and impurity.

Consequently we're told that the practice of Ashtanga purifies the body and the mind.

Rather paradoxically and recursively, purity itself is also one of the means to that end — we practice becoming more pure in order to become more pure.

What's interesting and often rarely discussed is that the idea of pure and impure is one dependent on constant failure.

"Purity," such as it is, is continuously and forever encroached upon by impurity, whether it's thought, deed, or emotion, so much so that we then must practice this ritual act of purification (that is, whatever series) six days a week, for a long time (As Patanjali says, "Sa tu dirgha kala ... ").

What's compelling is that Shiva in ultimate samadhi (purification) is just as much a problem to us and the universe at large as when he's wild-eyed and destructive (impure).

To paraphrase Wendy Doniger in her book on Shiva, it's this friction that results from the movement between pure and impure — rather than the absolute banishment of one or the other state — that generates the heat of practice.

Where does that leave Ashtangis? As the cliche goes, "I can't x because I have to practice tomorrow."

The danger is that the choice to say no to typical recreational past-times can be deformed into self-mortification. It can become a refusal to participate in relationships, and even a refusal to take part in one's dharma.

(My favorite quote from Mysore, for example: "I don't want to have children until Guruji's given me third series.")

Also importantly, how do I know when I'm pure enough? What does purity look and feel like?

Can I update my Facebook profile from "Impure" to "Pure" accordingly?

When I'm pure, can I stop doing the various series? For example, for the last 30 years of his life Guruji didn't practice first through sixth series.

Purity is an aspect of this practice I certainly never took too seriously; in fact, I generally associate ideas of pure and impure with their use in the West — that is, to accompany genocide (racial, ethnic, and religious "purity," and the corollary that follows, "cleansing.")

As I've said before, I love comic books, and so I appreciate and savor the adolescent wish-fulfillment inherent in supernatural saviour figures (superheroes, gurus as parent-figures, and white-bearded sky-gods) and ultimate, transcendent states that are categorically other and different from our experience of reality now (that is, Avenger's Mansion or Heaven).

I don't think we can expect a final state of ultimate and perfect purification.

There is no ultimate freedom from the mind or thoughts, as though yoga practice is to climb up the wall from your thoughts and then kick away the ladder.

So what use, then, are models and systems of purification?

One model, for example, is the Ari Shadvarga or shad ripus, a Brahminical favorite that descends from the Atharva Veda.

(We could pick from your favorite list, such as the Seven Deadly Sins or the Near/Far Enemies to the Brahma Viharas.)

The Ari Shadvarga are commonly known as the Six Enemies or Six Poisons, and they are lust - kāma, anger - krodha, greed - lobha, delusion - moha, arrogance - mada, and jealously - mātsarya.

They're often considered "enemies," which creates a relationship of struggle — "We must defeat our subconscious enemies."

In this use, both "enemy" and "poison" must be entreated with — they aren't banished or erased so much as they're purified, detoxified, or transmuted.

It was through my Crossfit and training experience that I was first exposed to the idea of hormesis.

Hormesis is defined as "a theoretical phenomenon of dose-response relationships in which something that produces harmful biological effects at moderate to high doses may produce beneficial effects at low doses."

With regards to Crossfit and training in general, if you move very heavy weights very far, and very quickly, it can shock or deplete your system enough to kill you.

At the right doses, however, these weights, distances, and speeds elicit an adaptive response and make you stronger, faster and more durable.

So rather than an ultimate victory, transcendence, shedding, or leaving behind of these "enemies" or "poisonous" thoughts and emotions, the Ari Shadvarga serve to shock us, stimulate us, provoke us, and spur us. 

That is, they spark us into deeper and more expansive growth and evolution.

The Ari Shadvarga, our "impurities" and "poisons," can be painful.

Our practice of Yoga then helps enfold them into an adaptive process in an ever-deepening and ever-unfinished process, as they ask us again and again to rise to the challenge, to be better and greater.

ASHTANGA YOGA: INFRATHIN

"Marcel Duchamp’s concept of the Infrathin—a state between states—might apply here. Duchamp defines the Infrathin as “The warmth of a seat (which has just been left)” or “Velvet trousers- / their whistling sound (in walking) by/ brushing of the 2 legs is an / infra thin separation signaled / by sound.” Like an electronic current, the Infrathin hovers and pulses, creating a dynamic stasis, refusing to commit to one state or the other. Like much contemporary writing, it is concerned with the expansive fusing of opposites: ephemeral and permanent, digital and analog, becoming multidimensional, flexible, and radically distributive."

—The New Aesthetic and The New Writing, Kenneth Goldsmith

A state between states: it is not those states, it is something like those states, it is nothing but those states. Hm.

ASHTANGA YOGA: BUT DOES IT WORK?

Just as there was never an actual Garden of Eden, there was never a literal age of enlightenment (Satya Yuga), from which we have now degraded to an age of darkness (Kali Yuga).

Humans in general today are not more confused or stupid than they were 5 or 10,000 (or 100,000 or 1 million) years ago.

What we can say, incontrovertibly, is that there are now many millions more of us, and so both the best and worst — the most and the least realized of us — are now prominently on display.

Still, we address the same problems as the Rishis: what is this universe, and what does it want?

More importantly, what do I want — and how do I get what I want?

Most schools or systems of Yoga implicitly acknowledge that the universe, and our role in it, is knowable and actionable.

There are codes and systems expressed in ritual as well as esoteric body maps (prana, vayus, koshas, bandhas, chakras), and through the use of these maps, codes and systems, we can then influence if not create our part in the universe.

Why, then, should we want to create our own roles in the universe?

Different schools of Yoga answer this in several ways.

Guruji was a Smarta Brahmin, which means his root teacher (sadguru) was Adi Shankara (or Shankaracharya), and that he participated in a school of non-dualism known as Advaita Vedanta.

The term “advaita” here tells us that Ashtanga as taught by Pattabhi Jois is one (of several) traditions whose central tenet is the fact that the universe is, as its name suggests: a “one” (uni) “turning” (verse).

“Advaita” literally means “not” (a-) “two” (dvai).

So Shankara and the Vedantins tell us this world, the world we are in now, is not the one we want: “One-ness” is what we want.

The world we’re in is merely “names and forms,” an illusion founded on delusion or ignorance (avidya).

Both the means (samadhi) and final end (kaivalya/dharma megha samadhi) of this Yoga is an understanding, realization, or attainment of this one-ness.

From this perspective, Vedanta and therefore Ashtanga can be seen as a strategy of enlightenment and attainment.

If this is the ultimate goal, I think it’s then fair to ask: how successful is it?

To what degree and depth did Guruji have this understanding or experience of attainment?

I can't answer that, partly because, as I’ve mentioned elsewhere, my personal one-on-one time with Guruji was minimal. 

But also partly because we as Ashtangis are not of typical or traditional Indian spiritual traditions, which feature root teachers whose realizations are formally recognized by their own teachers, and who formally initiate students.

This is the process of transmission that is referred to as "parampara."

How do I gauge if Ashtanga and thereby Kevala Advaita Vedanta is delivering on its promise, that of attainment of ultimate one-ness or Self-realization?

Certainly proficiency in advanced postures or sequences is no metric.

I could perhaps derive some calculus of Self-Realization based on whichever sequence the person is currently practicing, subtract from that their initial gifts and background, and divide this by their years of practice.

Unfortunately this practice is also not one based on tenure. 

Meaning, investing time into practice is no guarantee, as it turns Ashtanga into some kind of Self-realization layaway program: "Oh, it'll all work out when I'm 'older' or 'old' — 'Long time coming' and all that!"

It is one of my regrets that while in Mysore I did not endeavor to learn Kannada — more than having Guruji help me/laugh at me in mayurasana or vatayanasa (“Why falling?”), it would have been richer and more fulfilling to have had an actual conversation with him, if only to flesh out nuance and context, both of which were steamrolled into mere sloganeering by both his accent and grasp of English.

I also wonder at exactly how much profundity, understanding, and mystique was projected by us English speakers into that gap between Guruji's English and our own fluency.

(Why didn't anyone master Kannada? I mean, so many people spent three to six months living in Mysore — year after year?! What the fuck? Two to three years of this and I would expect essay-level fluency. I understand Norman Allen was fluent, and I remember Kim Flynn helping with rudimentary translation at conferences, but ... only one guy was fluent? Out of hundreds, even thousands?)

In the coffee shop conversations I have been fortunate enough to have with Tim, I’ve come to appreciate his sense that there is no final attainment — only an eternal process of opening and deepening.

(These are, importantly, my own words on what I have taken from time spent with him, and I am of course projecting my own agenda.)

So is it possible that Shankara’s understanding — and by extension Ashtanga Yoga — rather than merely decaying or atrophying in this "Kali Yuga," has evolved — and continues to do so?

I think it's vital to understand that it's not technically Shankara's understanding that is evolving — rather, the expression and transmission that lead to it.

TRAINING VERSUS PRACTICE

How is practice different from training?

To nod toward Patanjali, practice (abhyasa) means "persistent effort to attain and maintain a state of stable tranquility" (1.13)

"To become well established, this needs to be done for a long time, without a break." (1.14)

Deeply braided together with this idea of practice is non-attachment (vairagya), or "holding apart" (vai) one's "passions" (raga). (1.15)

There is nested within Ashtanga however an element of training — to me, to train is to set a road map or plan, establish a structured practice, and move toward a specific goal.

To learn this system we first focus on the physical minutiae: arms up, head up, head down, jump back, etc, etc. This immediate goal or the object of "training" would be something like "to learn the primary series."

It's hoped over time attention and consciousness enlarges to encompass more subtler layers of self (koshas).

As Jois used to say: "One year? Two year? No — lifetime!"

This enlargement is contingent on setting an appropriate intention (sankalpa), as intention steeps and suffuses practice.

What starts as training becomes practice.

HOW ANUSGATE RELATES TO ASHTANGA

I was putting together links to some articles, interviews, and essays that I will disperse to interested practitioners at Portland Ashtanga Yoga, and among them is “Grounding Anusara, Part 3: Intimacy, Methods, Therapy, and Making It Open Source,” by Matthew Remski.

Have I melted your face off with boredom about how resonant I found Remski's three-part series?

"Part 3" is another great article that sprung from the Anusara meltdown, or Anusgate, if you will.

The questions that Remski raises regarding Anusara are ones we as Ashtangis should ask, both of ourselves as students, and of our teachers.

Among those questions: Do economies of scale obstruct relationship? How is your relationship to your Yoga teacher affected in a room with 60 to 300 people — versus six or nine? Is a personal relationship still possible in larger class settings?

Is a “personal relationship” what we, as Yoga students, are in fact after? Is it essential to the process and experience of Yoga?

In my experience, a daily Mysore-style practice inadvertently cultivates an impersonal intimacy. For example, my teacher Tim saw me struggle — and fail — day in and day out, for many years. Full-depth and intense hands-on adjustments and synchronized deep breathing often left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. 

I never felt I was met with less than respect and empathy (sometimes, with baddha konasana, sympathy). 

Yet in a month often we would exchange five or six words — at most.

So when Remski uses the word “relationship,” what kind of relationship is he talking about?

Should your Yoga teacher know your name? Should she know your birthday and the names of your kids?

What do we gain from our relationship to our Yoga teacher? My sense is that much of Remski's use of "Yoga teacher" is as "therapeutic friend."

I think this has a different flavor than what is presented as the typical guru-shishya relationship (itself rife with a history of abuse), in which the teacher has had an "understanding" of the deeper (derper!) aspects of Yoga, an understanding recognized as such by that teacher's peers or teacher, an understanding that can then be transmitted to others.

What understanding do we expect Ashtanga teachers to have? Should they be able to articulate their understanding of kaivalyam/dharma megha samadhi? How is their understanding then verified or knowable? How are they transmitting that understanding to us?

The Ashtanga sequences and principles (unlike Bikram Yoga, for example, and unlike Anusara) are not trademarked. (Yet?)

So Remski ends with a call to making Anusara open-source, which I’m not sure is entirely applicable to Ashtanga — though reflecting on this question is vital, because it raises an interesting question: exactly what makes Ashtanga special?

It’s not the separate pieces of breathing, breath-body movement, or gazing. It’s certainly not the wonderfully strung garlands of postures.

Beyond an adolescent magical-thinking perspective of the practice — that to practice the postures perfectly will unlock some new, different, and other experience —the sequences and principles leave us with an overall gestalt.

So while I think the (semi) decentralized aspect of Ashtanga has rendered it in some ways open source — anyone can utilize or take advantage of parts of the Ashtanga principles and sequences — for me, at this time in my life, this gestalt only arises when Ashtanga is practiced as a system, or as Ol’ Dirty Bastard said, “raw and uncut.”

The aspect of open source that doesn’t work for me — that of crowd-sourced modularity — seems to me the reason we now have power yoga and the other Ashtanga derivatives that are tailored to the aerobics room in gyms.

(Salient features: air conditioning on high, mirrors, windows into the weight room, blaring house music. During class a Bro in a skintight rash-guard is not interested in Primary Series. He arrives late, does not take off his running shoes or remove the ear-buds from his ears, and tells me, “Bro, I just finished a bench workout. I just want to stretch out.”)

When we practice the Ashtanga sequences and employ its techniques, we maintain the “authenticity” of the external “tradition.”

This allows us to pass along the experience of Yoga allowed to arise through the application of these sequences and principles.

Still, I think Remski points out an interesting fact — method does not exist beyond the way it's shared. Put specifically, the parampara of Ashtanga yoga exists to serve students and the transmission of Yoga — and not the other way around.

That is, the students do not serve the parampara, the results of which T.S. Eliot so beautifully evokes in “The Waste Land": “Lips that would kiss/form prayers to broken stone.”

Remski also points out that to reduce a system to a trademarked product would indeed force us into the “one-way relationship of producer and consumer,” which would “derail the therapeutic.” I would submit it also goes a long way to derailing the luminous. 

I highly recommend checking out his first two articles.

DUDE IS A BIT BITTER?

"The notion of an original yoga is a just-so story that is constructed about the cultural context of yoga, which is transmitted (often by ill-informed students) at the time practices are taught.

The aspect of yoga that involves extensive physical discipline and the exploration of the anatomical-physiological bases of spiritual practice, that is, the yogic tradition known as haṭha yoga, was never a major part of “classical” yoga, if we can even speak of classical yoga, given the paucity of historical records, which are mostly shrouded in mythology or iconography ... "

"The Reflexivity of the Authenticity of Haṭha Yoga," Kenneth Liberman

Yoga in the Modern World: Contemporary Perspectives, page 100

I'm always curious as to the degree and depth with which modern Yoga scholars discount or disregard the role of orality within Yoga and the Hindu tradition in which it flowered. 

It seems that if something isn't written down, it didn't happen.

I guess what I'm inching toward is the question of the limits of knowledge about ancient, medieval, and modern (and post-modern) Yoga.

From social and historical viewpoints it seems that our knowledge is often limited to existing texts — often written on banana leaves and, what's critical, supplemental or auxiliary to oral transmission.

This reminds me of that story (a Calvino story?) of the man looking for lost house-keys under a streetlamp in front of his house.

A passerby helps the man search. The two search on their hands and knees for an hour, but to no avail. The passerby finally asks, "Well, where did you last see your keys?"

The man points toward his darkened doorway.

"Why are you looking out here on the street?"

"Because," says the man, "this is where the light is."

Again, in Black Swan, Taleb mentions a line in Will Durant's The Story of Civilization in which the Phoenicians are described as a "merchant race" due to the absence of a written legacy; it turns out that the Phoenicians wrote prodigiously — only they used a highly perishable type of papyrus that did not weather the passage of time.

The parallels between banana leaves and papyrus, as well as the limits of certain kinds of knowledge, seems to me rather striking. 

Also, I am noting a circular web of references and citations. Yet if we're all citing, for example, White's The Alchemical Body, and no one has scrutinized his scholarship, how are we not building a house of cards? 

There are, however, many heat-rocking mega-bangers of articles in Yoga in the Modern World.  

COLOR OF INTENTION

I’m hip-deep in Gudo Nishijima’s translation of the “Fundamental Wisdom of the Middle Way” by Nagarjuna.

(Published by Monkfish.)

I understand (based on Amazon comments) that Nishijima’s translation, as well as his understanding and presentation of Buddhism, may be non-traditional, perhaps even a bit iconoclastic.

However, I find that he speaks simply and plainly about what can often be abstruse.

His reading of verse 7 of the Skanda Pariksa section was of interest to me, especially as how it relates to our establishment of sankalpa (intention) at the beginning of our Ashtanga practice.

People often establish private, personal intentions for their practice, which can be done by verbalizing a sentence or flashing on an image. 

Patanjali lists some great suggestions for this, by the way.

I personally find it easier and more resonant to “sprinkle” myself with seed-sounds that constitute various archetypal figures. (Okay, you caught me: bijas that make up various deities).

However, even if one doesn’t call to mind a mantra, inspiring figure, or deity, among others, to merely recite pranava (om) and the Ashtanga opening invocation is to establish an intention of sorts.

The opening invocation is also just that: an invocation, a ritual summoning that calls together thoughts and intentions that will shape, direct, and guide our practice.

We then end our practice by banishing or dispersing those energies when we reciting the closing chant.

The opening and closing chants of Ashtanga mark out the boundaries of our practice and therefore give it shape, duration and, as a result, meaning and value.

Anyway, Nishijima speaks simply and powerfully about the role of intention during practice, as it turns out that our intention (coupled with action) can affect the entire universe:

“When we want to acquire knowledge about anything, the intention of that study is always included within the study itself. Thus our intention will always color the outcome of that study, no matter how carefully we try to avoid doing so … Furthermore, all action is very much related with the inclusive totality, or the entire universe. No action takes place without affecting the entire universe in some way, and no object exists by itself unrelated to the rest of the universe …”

LATE PASS: HIPSTER YOGA

I know I'm late to the party, but have you seen "Hipster Yoga"?

"Step 1. Begin in extended trust-fund pose."

I laughed so hard I sprayed Pabst everywhere.

Of course, the trouble is that I just see photos of kids dressing crazy.

I thought that was what being young was all about: dressing crazy. Excessive partying. Maybe both together at the same time?

Oh Internet, you strip the context out of everything!

Also, can't be mad at a My Bloody Valentine T-shirt.

ASHTANGA MARKETING REPORT

I had a conversation some months back with a power yoga teacher, in which it was suggested to me to consider playing music during class. "People love hearing good music!" she said.

If I played music, I asked, how then could people hear their own breath? Alas, I believe this suggestion fell on deaf ears, as it were.

It did get me thinking, though, about the various niches and demographics that not just Yoga but Ashtanga Yoga could invade, penetrate, or insert some your favorite masculine-encoded corporate term.

All we have to do is jettison this notion of lineage and tradition. God knows, the marketplace could certainly use several more Yoga For Insert Title Here.

I present now a series of marketing ideas that for sure will make my Ashtanga DVDs Target and Wal-Mart best-sellers. 

1. Ashtanga Crossfit

I see 400 meter sprints between sun salutations, rope-climb uth-pluthi, and 45-pound weight vests in class; binding might be challenging during the twisting postures, but then I understand the Crossfit people love difficulty.

2. Ashtanga for MMA

Look, laying aside this whole ahimsa yama (clearly ridiculous), this is a no-brainer, given the overwhelming popularity of MMA and Ultimate Fighting. I envision people moving through sun salutations and standing postures while their teacher attempts to punch, kick and otherwise hurl them to the ground. Consider the lucrative merchandising tie-ins — we could see a Tap Out sticky mat! Also, imagine the quality of your ujjayi breathing when someone has you in a choke hold!

3. Ashtanga for Fixed-gear Bike Riders

I don't really have any thoughts about what the practice would look like, but I had spun out various titles like "Ashtanga for Pabst Drinkers," "Ashtanga for Mustaches," and "Ashtanga for Williamsburgers, Portlanders, and Silverlakers." Basically, they all amounted to Ashtanga for hipsters. Though it has always seemed to me that the term hipster is such a cliche.

Also, I can't front on dudes with Pendleton flannels and neck tattoos who like to drink shitty beer, skateboard and ride fixed-gear bikes and home-made choppers. (Hits a little close to home.)

4. Ashtanga for Stockbrokers
The beauty of this is that I don't change the series or sequences at all — I just market to stockbrokers, high-power corporate execs, beleaguered lawyers, and basically anyone in a high-stress, exhausting job. Then I simply shout at them more.

5. Ashtanga for Free Spirits
The beauty of this is that, again, I do not change the series or sequence at all — I just market to jam-band-concert-goers, hoopers, Burners, and any and all Patchouli-wearers. Then I simply tell them they're beautiful more.

POMEDA'S "REFLECTIONS ON SPIRITUAL AUTHORITY"

Okay, no more weather updates — commenting on spring weather in Portland is like, as has been observed, commenting on traffic in Los Angeles.

In addition to the series of articles by Matthew Remski, another great bit of Yoga-related writing popped up earlier this year, an essay by Carlos Pomeda called "Reflections on Spiritual Authority."

I think this one is a great read for those of us who practice Ashtanga, as Pomeda discusses the tension arising from the intersection of traditional Hindu guru-shishya relationships, one of absolute ultimacy, with a more Western, individual-centered humanistic perspective.

The editors at Elephant Journal draw some obvious parallels to Ashtanga, as they feature a photo of Pattabhi and Sharath Jois in addition to John Friend.

In the article, Pomeda clearly spells out the different distinctions between types of teachers, from shastri and upadhyaya to acarya to guru. The question becomes, as he asks, "How do we determine the degree of authority?"

Ashtanga doesn't seem to me to currently have a sadguru in the sense of how Pomeda defines one, that is, a teacher whose authority rests on his or her own "spiritual attainment, which must be accompanied by scriptural knowledge and by the ability to transmit such knowledge and experience. This authority is conferred on such gurus by their own preceptors."

He does make the point that the "boundaries among these terms [for different teachers] are often blurry."

The article makes for an interesting read, at least to inspire consideration of where on the continuum our own teachers sit — to use the two models that Pomeda introduces, do they occupy an academic role ("The teacher holds more technical knowledge, and as students we will defer to him or her as much as he or she is best elected to the task." This idea of deference is quite different than that of submission)?

Or do they hold a seat within a more humanistic model ("The true guru is within").

As a side note, I still can't figure out the deal with Elephant Journal — I think you can read this article for free?

Also, I see that it's just part one; part two oughtta be a good one.

Carlos Pomeda "Reflections on Spiritual Authority"

"PALM TREE AND SPA ROBE" YOGA?

I may (or may not) produce a later post whose sole content will be titles and one-sentence summaries of posts I've written and subsequently lost the steam to finish and publish. Maybe this tendency is a consequence of the hunker-down in winter mind-set?

However! Spring popped in Portland yesterday (Friday), today it's 64 and sunny and the whole city is hot to party — the only other time I've felt a comparable manic spring madness was in Tokyo during cherry blossom season; San Diego springs were much more laconic.

Despite the dearth of posts of late, I do hope to share a few articles written recently that I think are worthy of further consideration.

The first are three by Matthew Remski. I confess I know nothing of Remski but what I've read in these posts, which he published at the end of February.

They're responses to the apparent collapse of the style of yoga known as Anusara.

I was and remain awe-struck at the pure blinding speed with which this system appeared to implode.

Part of what compels me to share Remski's series was a line that jumped out at me just a few days after attending the first Ashtanga Confluence in San Diego.

In Part 3, Remski writes: 

"[T]he airplane and hotel-bound modus operandi of any transglobal yoga corporation will have a hard time fostering grounded relationship, because it mimics the alienation of all late-capitalist structures. How could it not? Either cynically or unconsciously, the corporation will try to hide its relational weakness behind escapist/transcendental philosophies, exclusive knowledge hierarchies, classist economic barriers, distractive marketing copy written in Shringlish, and the palm trees and spa robes of its resort-retreat-intensive gatherings."

 This was striking, as just a few days prior I had worn a spa robe — well, my wife and kid grabbed the spa robes, but we had all basked in the San Diego sun and gazed at the token palm trees that littered the Catamaran Resort in Mission Bay. Tara and I had attended Mysore class, workshops, and discussions in a banquet hall full of hundreds of fellow students and teachers.

In his series, Remski offers not just a critique of Anusara specifically, but global yoga "brands" generally.

To paraphrase Remski, "In yoga it is obvious that economies of scale obstruct relationship. Go big or go home? Let’s go home, thank you very much. Let’s think smaller ... more than six mats in the room and you lose relationship."

The irony is that, at the Confluence at least, all five long-time students of Pattabhi Jois shared (to several hundred people, in a resort-like setting) what they felt were among Guruji's greatest strengths and gifts: that he invited small groups of students into his home to teach them yoga — through the application of postural sequences — with no bureaucracy in place. He took them in and he treated them like family.

I think Remski inadvertently spells out some of Mysore-style Ashtanga's greatest strengths, chief among them that Mysore classes are settings in which a teacher addresses the person directly in front of them.

  

As the articles are titled, Remski talks about the need to "ground" Anusara and its principal teacher John Friend in the day-to-day routine of work, family and practice.

For those unfamiliar with Anusara, the closest and best analogy I can use to describe how it was taught by Friend is that it was (is still?) similar to jam-band concert events — hundreds, thousands of people would gather for extra-large classes held during extended weekends at banquet halls, resorts or retreat centers.

This "grounding" feels to me to be a chief strength of Mysore-style practice. The people who find this practice love it, and do it every day, and enfold and entwine it into their daily lives. During this process and relationship, we all get to know each other, our spouses and significant others, our children, our pets, our careers, our home and work lives.

His series are worthy of a read, and the questions he raises are worthy of further and deeper discussion for Ashtanga people. 

Among them: Does Mysore style as it's currently practiced hide any "relational weakness" behind "escapist/transcendental philosophies"? Thankfully, as Eddie Stern indicated at the Confluence, there isn't yet any explicit Ashtanga company "brand" as there was with Anusara, as in, a registered property with trademarks.

Still, do we have "exclusive knowledge hierarchies"? At first glance, Ashtanga is also, in many ways, very much not "open source," though I think this perspective falls away on closer examination of the specific and individual situations in which it's taught.

Are there "economic barriers"?

While we don't have "Shringlish" to consider, Ashtanga does contain its own jargon.

Does a Mysore class size inhibit, or perhaps even diminish the practice of Yoga? How big should a Mysore room get? Does it even matter? 

This begs another question: Is it necessary to have a personal relationship with your Ashtanga yoga teacher? What exactly does a "personal relationship" entail, and what does this look like?

At any rate, I recommend his series. 

And anyone well-versed in Ayurveda: I would love to read some thoughts on Remski's prescriptions. What would are Ayurvedic pitfalls to Ashtanga, which can become overly grounded or routinized? 

Grounding Anusara, Part 1

Grounding Anusara, Part 2: A Brief Ayurvedic Consultation

Grounding Anusara, Part 3: Intimacy, Methods, Making it Open Source

Oh! And I included the link to Part 3 on Elephant Journal, rather than Remski's own blog, because  there are some BANGING discussions in the comments. Here's one: 

Shyam Dodge:

"While I'm not advocating for a pedagogy devoid of teachers or of connection to lineage, I fear that an over-emphasis on non-authorship (for much of the sastras while attributed to a mythic figure are in fact a product of many nameless authors)--and the traditional model of sampradaya--has the tendency to reinforce archaic educational dynamics that are in themselves tyrannical. This is because the metaphysics are inextricably wedded to the pedagogical theory. 

Because, in reality, JF's downfall was not just the product of “late-capitalism” but also of the metaphysics underlying Anusara and the traditional model of the guru-student-sastra paradigm."

Is the traditional guru-student-sastra model inherently "tyrannical"? Is the way Ashtanga is traditionally taught, posture-by-posture, "tyrannical"? Do we skate around this by proclaiming "I'm not and never said I was a guru"? Is some "tyranny" acceptable, or even necessary? 

MARCH NEWSLETTER

I don't want to oversell Portland to everyone, but I really feel there's a burgeoning Mysore scene happening here — the community at Portland Ashtanga Yoga is growing, Casey Palmer's coming up on his 10 year anniversary at Near East Yoga (10 years! Read it and weep!), and Johnny at Yoga Space has to be closing in on his 6-month anniversary.

Point being, there are three great places to take part in Mysore-style Ashtanga, each space inflected and infused with a different vibe.

At any rate, I send out a monthly newsletter, and last week the March edition went out. There's almost too much Ashtanga stuff going around at the moment, it's ridiculous.

Hey everyone,

I'm still waiting for the lamb of March to turn up — so far we've had nothing but lion! Alas. At any rate, thank you for continuing to practice and support Mysore-style Ashtanga in Portland, and Portland Ashtanga Yoga!

1. Thank You Kevin Kimple!
Thanks for coming to Portland, Kevin! This is the second time Kevin Kimple’s been here — and hopefully not the last! The guy is awesome, and I'm thankful he's able to fill in for me while I'm away! Everyone had a phenomenal time.

2. Confluence Notes!
I’ve been feeling rather underwhelmed when it comes to writing about my time at the Confluence, which was down in San Diego April 1-4. 

Basically, it was an opportunity for five highly regarded leading lights of the Ashtanga community to come together to teach and discuss. It was also a way for the community to come together, Stateside at least, in a way that hasn't been possible since Guruji's world tours.

Suffice it to say, it was a lot of fun to see so many long-time and dear friends.

Regarding the classes and discussions, I came away with the sense that Ashtanga is moving forward under the auspices of many talented and trained stewards.

As a further note: I had great conversations with many great people, and I got to practice next to my wife IN THE MORNINGS. This last — a morning practice with my wife — is an  incredibly rare occurrence.

3. Richard Freeman Will Visit Portland!
Richard's coming to Portland. This is an opportunity not to be missed. Richard's an incredibly erudite yoga teacher, and one of the guiding lights of the Ashtanga tradition.

He'll be at Norse Hall on May 4-6. Sign up ASAP! This will fill up!

LINK: http://www.theyogaspace.com/workshops.php

4. Living Yoga Yogathon
Portland Ashtanga is proud to help sponsor Living Yoga. We're putting together a team for their annual Yogathon.

You know the benefits of your practice and how much yoga means to you — Living Yoga, a non-profit outreach program, helps spread the positive aspects of yoga by teaching it as a tool for personal change to people in prisons, alcohol and drug rehabilitation centers, and transitional facilities.

The Yogathon will run for the month of May, with a celebration party on June 16 at Castaway Portland. The cost to join the Portland Ashtanga Yoga team is $20, which includes registration, tote bag filled with goodies, a personal fundraising website with fun social media, free yoga classes throughout Portland, and more.

Dedicate your practice for one month by setting goals for fundraising and make a change to our community. All you have to do:

• Sign up today at www.firstgiving.com/livingyoga. Our team is Portland Ashtanga (not to be confused with Yoga Pearl)!

• Get your friends, family, co-workers, etc. to donate money to this great cause.

• Do Yoga!

For more information you can go to www.firstgiving.com/livingyoga. or contact Karen Leib at yoleib@gmail.com.

5. Spring 2012 Portland Ashtanga Yoga Reader
During the last several months I've collected several online essays and articles that deserve more serious contemplation; I have trouble reading long-form pieces on-line, so these are writings that I've printed out to read.

(Though apparently the new Kindle app for the iPad 3 is supposed to be RE-DICULOUS, so maybe it will solve this problem for me.)

I want to share this "Reader" with anyone who's interested, so I'm going to print them out, staple them together, and give them to anyone who might be interested.

Sound like you? Email me if you want one.

6. Sharath in Encinitas
Sharath will be holding several weeks of classes in Encinitas in April. For those of you looking to make a direct connection with the grandson of Pattabhi Jois, and a long-time teacher and practitioner in his own right, this is a rare opportunity to do so outside of India!

LINK: http://www.joisyoga.com/events-and-news.html

7. Find Me Online
Facebook Page? YES: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Portland-Ashtanga-Yoga/165562886861620
Blog? YES! http://leapinglanka.blogspot.com/
You're not seriously on Twitter? YES I AM EVEN ON TWITTER! @leapinglanka

EURO EDITION: ASHTANGA YOGA: STORIES FROM BEYOND THE MAT

To my friends in the U.K. (and Europe) ---

Here it is on Amazon.co.uk!

Also, here it is on Book Depository UK!

For our German friends (with my surname I should be a big hit there), here it is on Amazon.de!

For my French friends, here it is on Amazon.fr!

Unfortunately I have absolutely no say over shipping and handling fees, but the Euro and British Sterling prices correlate to the cover price I am asking in US dollars.

As for Kindle versions — I'm working on it. It won't be available until after the Confluence in March.

ASHTANGA MOON DAY WOD

You see what I did there in the headline? Combined Ashtanga Yoga and Crossfit terminology. I AM ON FIRE RIGHT NOW.

I am taking it for granted no Crossfit people read this site, so I will forego explaining what a Moon Day is, and why Ashtanga people take them as rest days.

Instead, I will explain to you Yoginis that WOD is Crossfit jargon for "workout of the day."

I am posting a moon day 'workout' for you to perform; I have performed it myself. Don't worry, you don't have to put your leg behind your head or lick your coccyx (or your neighbor's) in a backbend.

I have shamelessly cribbed this from Chad Herst's terrific blog.

I met Chad in San Diego in 2000. He taught evening Mysore classes at Uptown Ashtanga in the Hillcrest neighborhood. We met again in Mysore in 2005, and Tara and I practiced with him and Monica in Auroville during a spectacular cyclone. He now splits Mysore duties with Devorah Sacks at Mission Ashtanga in San Francisco.

You should get into his blog.

In the quote below, Chad is referencing Shaun Anchor's book Happiness Advantage.

Practicing Happiness
The good news is that it doesn’t take a whole lot to develop the knack of optimism, positivity, and happiness. Anchor cites research that has found that the brain can be rewired within 21 days doing the following four practices:

3 Gratitudes: Write three things you’re grateful for. This results in the brain “starting to scan the world not for the negative, but for the positive.”

Journal about one positive experience you’ve had over the last 24 hours. “This exercise teaches your brain that your behavior matters.” 

Meditation “allows your brain to get over the cultural ADHD that we’ve been creating by trying to do multiple things at once, allowing us to focus on the task at hand.”

Random acts of kindness: Praise someone in your social support network.

JANUARY 2011 NEWSLETTER

Don't you wish you lived in Portland and practiced Ashtanga Vinyasa here?

Not only do we now have three places to practice Mysore-style Yoga, but this spring we are awash in Ashtanga Vinyasa events. It's shaping up to be a real Ashtanga Vinyasa spring ...

1. One Year Anniversary Party!
As Captain Marvel says, Holy moley! Portland Ashtanga Yoga turns one in February!

Come celebrate with a pot-luck-slash-BYOB smash-fest on Saturday, February 18, from 4-6:30 p.m.

Cindi and Ted Wilke have graciously agreed to once again host our wild yogini shenanigans at their house.

Please bring yourself, your spouse or significant other, your offspring, however demonic, your friends, prospective significant others you are trying to impress with your profundity and depth, and/or random hungry acquaintances.

(For this last, please ensure they are good conversationalists.)

This will be a pot-luck: for the love of god, PLEASE bring food that you would LIKE TO EAT, NOT what you think "yoga people" would like to eat.

Also, it will be Saturday afternoon. I will not tell your parents if you bring a bottle of wine.

The Wilke Residence
2840 NE Everett
PDX 97232
http://g.co/maps/xn9hj

2. Kevin Kimple Returns to Portland March 1-9!
Kevin is, as we used to say in Southern California, a pretty rad dude — he directs the Eugene School of Yoga, he spent a lot of time practicing this Yoga and living in Mysore, and he's the only Authorized Ashtanga teacher in Oregon (note that the capital "a" means it's legit).

Kevin's agreed to fill in for me while Tara, Rowan and I are at the Ashtanga Yoga Confluence in early March. He'll be handling Mysore classes March 1-9.

He'll also be hosting workshops Friday ( March 2, 6-8 p.m.), Saturday (March 3, 1-4 p.m.) and Sunday (March 4, 1-4 p.m.) at Yoga Pearl.

Kevin's handling the topics, so stay tuned for more details and info on where to enroll.

3. Richard Freeman in Portland May 4-6
The Ruler's back! Richard "Slick Rick" Freeman will be visiting Portland May 4, 5, and 6. This is an occasion not to be missed — Richard is one of the leading lights in both the Yoga world in general and the Ashtanga world specifically.

Apparently Richard is still deciding on specific topics. But for more information, and to sign up online, visit: http://bit.ly/Ajcodb

This even will sell out, so seriously, don't sleep on this.

5. My Book Is On Amazon
No asana photos. Apparently it's funny. You'll get a kick out of it. I guarantee there's not another book about Ashtanga Yoga like it: http://amzn.to/A592NN

6. David Garrigues at Breitenbush March 15-18
In other Pacific Northwest Ashtanga Vinyasa news, David Garrigues (D-Gar) will be at Breitenbush in March.

David's one of the few Certified Ashtanga teachers in the U.S. (note the capital "c" to indicate it's legit), and he's been teaching and practicing for a long time.

Like many long-time teachers, he's got terrific respect for and experience with the Ashtanga Vinyasa tradition, yet he balances this with the artistry required by teaching.

David's been doing these great "Asana Kitchen" videos lately, so you can get a feel for his style by watching them. He's also been wearing some phenomenal shirts of late. Check out "Asana Kitchen": http://bit.ly/xZqRrp

More info on Breitenbush: http://bit.ly/vKPKuI

7. Where To Find Me Online
Yoga is all about conversation and connection; here're some places online where this conversation is happening:

Leaping Lanka: http://bit.ly/A3InNZ
Facebook Portland Ashtanga Yoga: http://on.fb.me/vNKHbe
Twitter: @leapinglanka

ASHTANGA & MYSORE: SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO

As Craig Finn sang, "Let's raise a toast to Saint Joe Strummer." Becca works at the studio; she also occasionally attends the Monday night led Primary Series class.

I have a habit of asking people what they would like to talk about prior to beginning the physical portion (i.e. the 1% versus the 99% practice), and she always makes a point of bringing in questions.

I appreciate this — I appreciate the conversation because it's another means of connection (yoga), and it enriches the whole process.

Yesterday morning she asked my thoughts on traveling to India: "What's up with this Mysore deal?" This in great synchronicity with the conversation that's been percolating of late and which perpetually arises about 2 years into everyone's Ashtanga Vinyasa practice.

She felt that if Yoga was a language, you need to go where it's spoken in order to learn it the best. This is not a bad analogy.

Yoga is a language, or type of knowledge, and it's also a tool (techne), as opposed to knowledge (episteme). Kriya or karma yoga (yoga of action) versus jnana yoga to parallels these Greek concerns.

To stretch this metaphor to other instances of technology use to drive home a salient feature of a good tool  — the car was (for the purposes of this argument) invented in Europe; I do not need to travel to Europe to learn to drive. I love the films of Seijin Suzuki; I do not need to travel to Tokyo to love them more or deeper, or even to watch them. I love to play the piano; I do not need to travel to Italy to learn to play it. From a doctor-patient standpoint, a sick patient does not need to travel to England, where Fleming discovered the use of penicillin, okay, you get my point.

I think everyone understands that the the most ideal concept of Yoga-as-technology is that it resembles an artisanal tool rather than an industrial one; that is, one developed by craftspeople and singularly wired up for each individual's use, rather than mass produced (that is, rather than a Bikram factory) — but even so, Eddie Van Halen learned to shred the fuck out of an assembly line guitar, Nicu Vlad trained to win Olympic weightlifting medals on a bent barbell, and your iPod, perhaps the last example of an artisanal item scaled up for mass consumption, will still play the songs you love, and affect you as deeply, as some hi-fi stereo snob fuckophonic sound-system (i.e. fuck vinyl).

If Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga is an effective, powerful, transformative tool, this tool must be powerful, effective and transformative for its user/practitioner, full stop, end of statement, not "powerful, effective, transformative only in Mysore." It can't be dependent on a specific location.

A (wise) friend once said to me, "If God is in all things, as all things, you think he cares if you're chanting Sanskrit, Aramaic or Old English?" To accept this requires heroic affirmation, because it requires the acceptance of the fact that those particular chants are, in fact, just a collection of sounds and in and of themselves bear no intrinsic sacredness separate from you. At best we can say that, for whatever reason, they strike a particular chord in you at that time.

In one of those studio talks, Richard Freeman mentioned hearing Bach, or sitting in church, watching light stream through stained glass windows — and then conflating the ensuing equipoise with the church denomination or the specific piece of music, and trying to recreate that equipoise by returning to that church or repetitively playing that same piece of music.

For my part, I realize that for whatever reason (samskaras, karmas) there are certain pursuits and practices in my life (Ashtanga Vinyasa) that I choose to pick at like loose threads on a rug because I find them compelling. As I continue to do so, part of maintaining their relevance and vitality has been to realize how and when I've used the pursuit of these practices to escape other situations in my life, which has usually been relationships, and then to not do that.

For me, a tendency I personally have is to lean pretty hard into ascetism as a means to power — saying no to experiences and relationships is addictive because it allows a sense of control.

So why should Becca go to India, or to Mysore? I think she should be leery if she thinks she is going to have a better, more pure or authentic, plus ne ultra, or most importantly, other experience of Yoga than the one she has here in Portland.

But I can think of a host of great reasons to go there — travel as a value is very important to me, and travel for yoga is a great way to combine two pursuits. Travel as sabbatical or recovery from burnout. A holiday or vacation. Big life changes free up time and present the opportunity for positive periods of travel and deeper/lengthier practices. Finally, curiosity is a great reason.

WHITHER GOEST THOU: ASHTANGA IN MYSORE

It is not a bad idea to articulate some reasons to travel to Mysore.

Is it as a yoga tourist? In the novel Sheltering Sky Paul Bowles makes the distinction between a tourist and a traveler: “[A]nother important difference between tourist and traveler is that the former accepts his own civilization without question; not so the traveler, who compares it with the others, and rejects those elements he finds not to his liking.”

For example, Chef in Apocalypse Now is a tourist. His mantra becomes "Never get off the boat — there are fucking tigers out there."

Bowles’ idea of a traveler dovetails with Nassim Nicholas Taleb’s reinterpretation/revival of Baudelaire’s “flaneur,” a derived meaning of the French word flâneur — that of “a person who walks the city in order to experience it.”

(From here we move to the Situationists. Christ, that’s a lot of name-dropping.)

I am compelled by the idea of traveling to India and walking the streets of Mysore, not to consume Indian exoticism or escape my own self back “home,” but to purely and simply let yoga in Mysore wash over and through me. Some kind of yogi flaneur.

That said, my understanding of Ashtanga Yoga specifically and Yoga generally is this: it began in India, has greatly developed in the West, and part of its practice is continually reaffirming its relevance in my daily life.

With that understanding in mind, I think it can be said there are now many “hearts” of Ashtanga yoga. But of course I am biased: five years ago this April my wife and I were married by a guy we consider a “heart” (at least a ventricle) of this tradition.

Where are these hearts? Well, the big ones of course: Encinitas, Boulder, Lower East Side … then there’s Hawaii, Los Angeles, Vancouver, Toronto, London, Tokyo, Barcelona … again, you get the picture.

How is the practice of Ashtanga Yoga different depending on geographical location? I have been to Mysore and other places in India (and I tell you, practice with Rolf and Marci in Goa will blow you out of your socks). It is magical to practice there, yes, but no less magical than anywhere else on earth.

  

In a large part this "magic" arises as an aspect of pilgrimage. Someone travels to Mysore and makes a pilgrimage marked by sacrifices big and small — financial, personal, familial, work-related — that are required in order to undergo the journey.

Then there’s the often tremendous distance, discomfort, and cost experienced en route.

Meaning, by the time you get there, you've seen things. The familiar has long since disappeared out the back of the rickshaw window.

During a pilgrimage you’re subtracted from well-grooved responsibilities and roles within family, work, and culture.

Once in Mysore you become part of the coming together of hundreds of like-minded travelers, all practicing together in one room. The shala breathes and pulses with a tidal hum that you can feel in your bones. It’s intense.

Given this understanding, there is nothing intrinsically magical about the Jois Shala or Mysore at all. The walls are not made of candy canes and gum-drops, and Sharath bless him does not levitate into the room and shoot lightning bolts out of his eyes.

(In 2005 he was fatigued and in pain due to back injury, yet still with light touch and quick humor. That is, he was warmly human.)

You can’t cut a piece of the rug off the shala floor, take it home, and expect it to confer the same experience. No saints’ fingerbones or virgin’s tears to collect. 

(You can however purchase logo T-shirts to commemorate your experience and communicate to others your journey.)

Rather, it is the collective endeavor and communal undertaking of practice together that makes it special. The intention of the practitioners and teachers — the sankalpa — is paramount.

  

Danger and trouble appear when the pilgrimage becomes enshrined as the Grail through which all that is unpleasant in your life will magically disappear: the death of a loved one or family member, the bitter break-up, recent job loss, eating disorder, alienating/alienated parents … perhaps even the mundane disquiet or dissatisfaction with current choices in life.

(See: Trungpa’s Spiritual Materialism)

I did one time hear Sharath say, jokingly (half-jokingly), “Do the yoga — now go home!”

There's also a "big" Sanskrit word bandied about as justification of such a pilgrimage: parampara.

"Parampara" generally means lineage, and in Sanskrit takes the flavor of "order" or "succession."

It's often suggested that Mysore is the location of this parampara, which of course begs several questions: I can only receive or take part in this parampara in Mysore? Is my experience of this parampara greater in Mysore than on my home yoga mat?

The experience of taking part in the living, breathing tradition as expressed through its community is very much a vibrant aspect of practicing Yoga in Mysore, so in that regard there is a healthy experience of parampara available there.

Wedded to this idea of parampara is the Vaidika idea of purity (and pollution). From within this perspective, as a practitioner I want to practice the purest form of Ashtanga Vinyasa Yoga, and to do that, I have to participate in parampara, which, I am assured, is an unchanging (and therefore eternal) system of techniques handed down from time immemorial. In this case, from an ancient text called the Yoga Korunta by Vamana. The Indian tendency, as has been noted, is to whenever possible push the dates of teachings, systems and texts as far back in history as possible, as the older (and more unchanged), the better.

Setting aside the issue of whether the Korunta is apocryphal, this idea of the purity of Ashtanga Vinyasa is important because it's what determines value and meaning in this system — by agreeing on behaviors, attitudes, techniques, sequences of asanas performed like this (and not that) (foot to the side, not in front, etc.) value and meaning are created, and following from those agreed-upon values, what naturally follows are notions of identity and place in society, family, and culture (dharma).

I think it's also useful (cynical?) to observe the idea of parampara from a power dynamic perspective. That is, lineage holders often do just that: hold or maintain the lineage. In order to do so and for reasons altruistic or otherwise (see: Bikram), it's in their interests to maintain control over their system or school of Yoga. This expresses itself through maintenance of purity, authenticity, values, etc.

This is an obvious observation; the corollary that follows is that those who receive their authority from this authority then have a vested interest in maintaining the parampara — a byproduct or residue of fostering the importance of purity and authenticity also insures their authority (and often prosperity).

As someone who teaches Mysore style Ashtanga Vinyasa, I try to be very transparent when it comes to the presentation of this system. It's had a tremendous impact on my life (to it I owe my wife, daughter, and current peace of mind), so I try to be cognizant of what I understand to be the tradition, why it works the way it does, and most importantly, when it needs to flex (and when to remain firm) to meet the needs of the person on the mat in front of me.

I also hope to invite conversation on the subject, too (that is, I'm too blabby). These sequences and techniques aren't tablets handed down from the mount. But they work, they work for me and they'll work for you.

To return to the issue of parampara: to paraphrase Del The Funky Homosapien, what is my parampara, and how do I know if I'm shaking it? What does it mean, really, to take part in parampara?

For my part, it means to quite simply have a heart connection with a teacher who has a teacher within the Ashtanga Vinyasa tradition; in this case, Tim considers Pattabhi Jois his teacher and I consider Tim my teacher. I'm lucky in that I know Tim, and more importantly, Tim knows me. There's something vital about that relationship and conversation. It's at once intimate yet politely distant.

Finally, do I think you should go to Mysore? It depends largely on the context — I wish I could just give an orthodox answer (yes or no) but I really think it depends on a person's situation in life, such as your family obligations, work commitments ... even your interest in travel generally and travel to Asia specifically.

I know for example Tara had a great time in Mysore but doesn't really care to go back. She had a great time at the shala and she liked Sharath, but she's just not compelled to visit India — she'd rather see Europe (we still haven't been together).

More t importantly, many years ago she "came home" to the idea of Tim as her teacher. The interest to find other teachers is just not there. For her, taking part in the parampara occurs in our bedroom every morning when she practices and in Encinitas.

When I told Tim I planned to visit Mysore on my first trip, I asked if he had any advice. All he said was, "Go, and have a great time." He was pretty laid back about it.

Still: India will blow your fucking mind. Just don't run away from your life. Be a yogi flaneur.

'ASHTANGA YOGA: Stories from Beyond the Mat' IS OUT NOW

 Friends,

'Ashtanga Yoga: Stories From Beyond the Mat' is now on sale at Amazon: http://amzn.to/wQsTsL

It's a collection of stories, essays, sketches, how-tos, and comedy bit-lets, all written during the last 10 years, and all relating to the practice of Ashtanga Yoga.

It's one of the first of its kind in the Ashtanga community: no asana photos or "Intro to Yoga Philosophy 101," just writings about Yoga filled with reverence, humor, and the occasional artfully employed f-bomb.

(Also, perhaps the occasional gratuitously employed f-bomb.)

The practice of this Yoga has profoundly changed my life --- I hope I shared a glimmer of that in the pages of this book.

QUICK UPDATE:
1. International Amazon
Unfortunately, at the moment I'm unable to list it on Amazon's international sites. This means it's still available to those outside the U.S., though you have to pay shipping.

HOWEVER: I have just found that Amazon UK does print-on-demand, and so I'm gonna get this ball rolling. 

Please note: I am not changing any "whiles" to "whilsts" for my UK audience, though maybe I can work in "havin' a slash" or "dogs bollocks" somehow.

2. Kindle, eBook, Versions
There will definitely be one. But not until March.

INDIA 2008.

Just unearthed some pics from our trip to practice with Rolf and Marci in early 2008. I am the one wearing glasses.

Also, with regards to my wife, I believe the saying is that I am "punching above my weight," or that she is "dating down." My secret: constant yet mild hypnosis coupled with blackmail.

This is Rowan at the local Goan market, which was around the corner from our first house. The kid is such a ham. During our last few weeks in Goa, I was purchasing and consuming copious cans of Pepsi from this shop, driven by some strange but deep culture-shock homesickness-impulse only mitigated by an ice-cold can of brown sugar syrup.

COHEN'S DARKNESS

"I caught the darkness/ It was drinking from your cup/ I asked, 'Is it contagious?/ You said, 'Drink it up.'"

Guy's 77 and only getting BETTER.