On Teachers and the Practice of Ashtanga Yoga

[Guest guest]

On Teachers and the Practice of Ashtanga Yoga

 

I wrote whatever is below largely, but not exclusively, as a reaction

to what I have seen and heard in the Ashtanga community in the city I

live in. I imagine that what goes on here is not unique to this place

so perhaps some of you from other parts of the world might be able to

identify with what I have written. It is intended mostly with

students of Ashtanga Yoga in mind but perhaps teachers may find it of

interest as well. I have chosen my words carefully but not perfectly.

Take what you will from it all and if you don't understand or agree

with something then simply discard it or set it aside for later.

Apologies if parts of it appear disjointed or awkward; the whole

thing's basically a hodge-podge of thoughts that I've been mulling

over for awhile and cobbled together for this occasion. I'm not

deliberately looking to stir things up. I simply want to give people

cause to reflect. The masculine form is used only for the sake of

convenience. The "he" could just as easily be a "she".

 

 

I'm not very good at remembering or telling stories but this is one

that has stuck to my mind for many years now which I think might be

appropriate to start with:

 

There was once an old wise man who lived in a cave by himself. He

sometimes received visitors who came to him seeking his counsel. One

day a mother brought her young son to see the him. She told the wise

man: "My son has an excessive fondness for sweets. It is ruining his

health. He has much love and respect for you so please tell him to

stop." To which the wise man replied:" Very well but please come back

next week and I will tell him then." The mother dutifully brought her

son back to see the wise man the next week, but the wise man again

declined to instruct her son just then and instead asked her to

return yet the following week. Perplexed as she was the mother still

did as she was told and returned the following week, but only to be

turned away again. The mother was beginning to lose her patience and

was wondering if the wise man was ever going to help her. For the

sake of her son, she decided to try one last time and went to see him

again. "Please tell my son not to eat so many sweets. It is ruining

his health," she implored. The wise man turned to the boy and said:"

Young man, please stop eating so many sweets. It is not good for

you." The boy nodded his obedience and that was the end of the

matter. The mother asked the wise man:" It was such a simple and easy

thing for you to tell him not to eat sweets, why did you cause me so

much trouble by making me return so many times?" The wise man

replied:" I myself had a great fondness for sweets. It has taken me

this long to rid myself of it so only now am I able to instruct your

son."

 

 

 

Nowadays....

 

In all yoga traditions, there is a general rule that the teacher

should have mastered that which they purport to teach and this

mastery should only come through intensive and extensive direct

experience of the subject matter. This ensures that they internally

understand and realize the meaning and value of what they have

practiced. This also ensures that they will know what is desirable,

possible and appropriate should they ever try to teach it. Some of

you may be familiar with the expression "The blind leading the

blind". Teachers of asinine understanding may lead you to presume or

give you an impression that Ashtanga is a performance sport or that

it is a very rigid, strictly defined practice or that it is driven by

the goal of physical perfection. In such cases, I fully believe that

it is better to receive no instruction than blind or dishonest

instruction; a blind teacher will lead you down a hole and not even

know what they've done. The few who do will either not know how to

get out or will even lack the integrity to admit to what they've

done. And following such a blind teacher, you will probably not

realise that you've been led down a hole because you've laid all your

trust in your teacher. Perhaps you may sense that something is not

quite right or that there is something essential missing but you just

won't be able to put your finger on it.

>From what I've seen, there are basically 2 broad categories of

undesirable teachers. The first is essentially a pedant and a

performer. They give you what you want rather than what you need.

They try to impress you by pandering to your desires and aversions in

a variety of ways. Sometimes they may give you comforting or

attractive answers when there are none but only because you want to

hear them. Such essentially vacuous answers usually arise when the

questions themselves are frivolous or misdirected. They may regale

you with intellectually-titillating but ultimately irrelevant Iyengar-

speak discourses that only distract and mislead you from the

fundamental principles of the Ashtanga method; or doling out new

poses that are not appropriate for you but because they can see that

you want them. Perhaps they will make you laugh or even cry or by

their words and actions cause you to feel good or bad about

yourselves. They may seek to manipulate your emotions to create a

certain experience, not dissimilar to the experience of watching an

entertaining movie, the purpose of which has little reason and

substance behind it other than to endear themselves on you. Such

teachers are not terribly concerned about you or your yoga practice

but more concerned about themselves, their teacher-egos and how well

they are perceived.

 

Somewhere lurking in this category are the worst kind of teachers:

the ones that lack integrity and honesty; the ones who pretentiously

market themselves as authorities in order to create a demand for the

product they are selling. But Ashtanga is such a simple method to

understand that it belongs to all and to the individual and it cannot

be taken away or owned by any single person. Unfortunately, these

people will convince you that they have some unique angle to Ashtanga

that only they know and you need to or should know in order to

quickly "improve" your practice or to avoid injury and pain or any

other such meaningless tripe. They might package the Ashtanga method

with some other product to make it appear more attractive to the

buyer, but such packaging is by it's very nature superfluous and

tenuous and can add no real depth to your practice. Unfortunately

many buy into the hype these people create about themselves and the

product they hawk. They may act the talk and appear genuine, their

adjustments might be wonderful (but that could just mean that they're

a very well-trained monkey) and you may be utterly enraptured and

convinced but at the end of the day, having given them your trust,

you naively accept their instruction, according great respect to

their philosophy and their views and are thus led astray. Here's a

little secret about social psychology: act like you know what you're

talking about, speak with absolute confidence and everyone will

believe you. Many, many teachers know this all too well and cynically

take advantage of your gullibility because it's highly unlikely that

they'll ever be challenged (if you thought you knew better than them,

than why would you pay good money to be in their class?). Such

salespeople can be found in regular classes and among those who ply

the workshop circuit. Even well-known teachers are not above such

sales strategies. Perhaps they are not quite dishonest, maybe they

just got ahead of themselves and started to believe that they know

all that is important to know about Ashtanga and more, perhaps this

delusion is further compounded by belief in their own hype. Perhaps

they are simply ignorant to the severe limits of what they know of

Ashtanga or whatever else they're selling and hence can't quite gain

a perspective to what they don't know and what can actually be

usefully conveyed. Regardless, such teachers are invariably motivated

by ignorance, greed, or the teacher-ego and knowing their

characteristics, I hope you will be able to recognize and avoid them.

It's far better to tread your own path alone than engage a clueless

or false guide.

 

The 2nd type may be a little more common and easier to identify. They

tend to be inexperienced as teachers and especially as practitioners.

They teach mechanically with little internal understanding of what

they're doing or why. They even adjust mechanically following a rote

formula lacking in intelligence, sensitivity or depth. (Just to be

sure, any monkey with a single digit IQ can be taught to push and

pull on someone's limbs) Their own practices are lacking in clarity

and depth, their motivations for teaching are spurious or at the very

least vague and vacillating. Fear clouds their natural intelligence,

which effectively blocks their understanding. They are either still

at the elementary stages of earnestly exploring, through Ashtanga,

their own psychological and physical natures or perhaps haven't even

understood how to do so but yet they openly, blatantly encourage and

guide others in this method.

 

It can be said that many teachers are merely responding to the overt

or tacit demands of students so perhaps it's the students who should

shoulder some of the blame for the circus that frequently masquerades

as yoga practice these days. There is a great deal of truth in that

argument but for the present moment I would like to focus on the

teacher's side because they have, presumably, wittingly assumed this

position of substantial responsibility. The teacher needs to dig deep

and find the courage, the integrity to lead and not be led, to adhere

as closely to the method as possible with as little ego-investment as

possible, all while resisting the temptation to be driven by the

market demand to embellish and to entertain. Yes, the teacher needs

to earn a living and in order to do so needs to maintain a certain

influx of students, but there are a fair few shining examples in the

Ashtanga community all over the world, of teachers who have remained

steadfast to teaching Ashtanga as it is, as Guruji would have it,

without ostentation, adulteration or extraneous digressions. These

teachers, popular as they are, are testament to the fact that

catering to the lowest common denominator is utterly unnecessary as

long as the teacher has his heart in the right place and is not

motivated by ambition or greed. There is something inherently good,

spiritually uplifting about a person who leads by example, who has

risen above the baser human instincts and works according to the

higher principles he believes in, a person whose words and actions

are supported by a strong and clear ethical framework. Such teachers

by their very conduct and philosophy will always, given time, attract

many students and these students will often be of a high quality -

sincere and focussed. Money or a fan club are not the driving forces

behind such teachers; during the inevitable lean times, principles

uncompromised, they will do whatever decent work is necessary to make

their living.

 

Beware of teachers who adjust excessively or all too readily. Be

especially wary of teachers who plough right into someone whose

practices they are not familiar or out of touch with. Beware of

teachers who adjust for effect, however skilled they may be, for

circus antics have no place in Ashtanga. Beware of teachers who

adjust inconsistently or imprudently for no rhyme or reason. Teachers

who adjust injudiciously tend not to take into account the situation

of the student with regards to what is desirable and what is

possible. Beware of teachers who frequently invite and engage in

unnecessary, frivolous banter during class for external dialogue

creates internal dialogue for all those within earshot. Be especially

wary of teachers who like to parade their technical knowledge of

gross anatomy and kinesiology or who use that as their primary

language to understand the Ashtanga practice and to instruct you in

it. Such knowledge is poison because it conditions the mind to see

the practitioner as a discrete package of bones and muscles when the

human being is so much more than that and when the Ashtanga method is

intended to affect far more deeply and subtly than the mere

biological organism. Such a teacher would be so severely and

intractably limited in their understanding of the Ashtanga method as

to render them wholly unqualified to teach it to anyone. Worse, they

would infect the practitioner with their erroneous approach to

Ashtanga. Be especially wary of teachers who adjust according to

fallacious ideas of alignment based on concepts of aesthetic appeal

such as straight lines and symmetry, for in Ashtanga correct

alignment is absolutely individualised and is not a matter of

perfection of form. It naturally arises from an unmoving gaze, from

correct engagement of bandhas, from steady and calm breathing. It

cannot be taught by someone's hands or words but developed over time

with earnest practice. The body and mind have their own rhythm and

processes that will unfold naturally on their own. As such, an

adjustment being an intervention in that process, the teacher had

better be clear about the how and why of what they're doing. If the

teacher doesn't have the right reasons or motivations to adjust, then

it is unlikely that the teacher has the student's best interests at

heart. The adjustment is corrupt and insincere; it has no intrinsic

integrity and hence will not have any lasting benefits. For such a

teacher the means becomes the end, for the means is now the means by

which he gains ego-mileage, the means by which he gets to feel good

about himself, to prove what he can do.

 

Adjustments are not equal in purpose and value since each person is

unique and all the asanas have a different purpose and dynamic by

themselves and within the series. Having said that, people are

commonly adjusted far more than necessary, far more than is helpful,

to the point where it is detrimental to their practice. Unnecessary

adjustments are a distraction for the recipient and even the people

around. They pull the practitioner's awareness away from the breath,

the demands of the asana and of course drishti. For optimal benefits,

adjustments are best done sparingly, with competent consideration and

ideally for pyscho-spiritual reasons. The way I see it, there are

five fundamental reasons to adjust someone: to counter laziness, to

remedy ignorance, to assuage or confront fear, to encourage and to

build rapport and trust. The best teachers will usually be able to

see not just the general personality of a practitioner but also the

state of mind that the practitioner is dealing with on that

particular day and thus be able to teach the person accordingly.

 

A quick side-step to clarify a point made earlier: I'm not condemning

the Iyengar method; I happen to think that Iyengar himself is a bit

of a genius but his whole approach to Yoga has its own unique

methodology, philosophy and intelligence and so does Ashtanga. The

corrupting combination of Iyengar's ideas and principles with

Ashtanga by many, if not most, Ashtanga teachers, wittingly or

otherwise, that seems to be so ubiquitous these days doesn't mean you

get the synergistic best of both worlds. In reality, unless the

teacher is a genius himself, he'll almost certainly end up with a

hollow and impotent understanding of both methods and hence be unable

to deeply convey the essence of either to students. As I said before,

a pedantic obsession with detail and form draws one's focus away from

what is important in Ashtanga.

 

 

99% Practice.....

 

As Guruji is apt to point out, the Ashtanga method is for the

internal purification of Prakriti, the material matter of life which

includes our ego-personality and our physical, subtle and causal

bodies, and for promoting the control of our sense organs. The

internal purification arises as the breath, drawn up correctly using

the appropriate technique, stokes and fans our esoteric sacrificial

fire, which consumes the impurities, the obstacles that reside in the

Prakriti. The control of our sense organs arises from the long

practice of channelling the focus of our various sense organs,

including our mental processes, from the external to the internal,

from the diffuse to the particular. So, it's not how deep he can bend

or what advanced series he's doing that is the hallmark of someone

who has understood and practices the internal mechanics of Ashtanga.

It's not about the how-much-pain-can-you-take game either. In the

context of the Ashtanga asana practice, a good way of determining the

quality of a practitioner is how steady, how sharp and sensitive he

or she can stay in a pose, how they are breathing and connecting

internally. It's about calmly but keenly watching and listening

because the body has it's own intelligence that is infinitely

superior to the intellect and transcends all emotions. By

courageously exploring one's boundaries can one discover and learn

from that inner intelligence.

 

In my opinion, only a person who has practiced long and deep, who has

maximally explored the parameters of their mind and body within the

context of Ashtanga would be in an honest position to teach others.

Only they will even know what to watch out for when they are teaching

you. They're able to connect with what you are doing and experiencing

through their own insights and experiences. So conversely, a suspect

teacher would be someone who still has much fear and manifest

ignorance in their own practice or who has stagnated in their own

lifeless, mechanical practice because they're motivations are

misguided and erroneous. You can hear it from their breath, see it in

their movement, infer it from the incongruencies between their

thought, word and deed.

 

There is a simple tradition, that has practically evolved to an

ideal, that is often heard within the Ashtanga community: practice

before teaching. This holds true not just figuratively but for very

good reasons, literally as well. Firstly, to practice before the

class itself clears the mind and allows the teacher to focus their

attention on the student with as little ego-investment as possible.

Secondly, practicing before a class gives life to the tradition of a

teacher being well-versed in the subject and to continue studying it

on his own before instructing another. The student will also have

greater confidence and faith in the teacher and in the subject matter

because they know that their teacher is coming from a place of

experience, knowledge and integrity. Thirdly, it sets an example for

the students, that they themselves should practice as regularly,

diligently and sincerely as the teacher. The student will more

likely practice unwaveringly and sincerely as a result. Finally, it

honours the efforts of the students who are already doing so.

 

How many teachers out there still follow this tradition? From what

I've seen and heard, relatively few. Those who do often resort to

dramatically watering down their practices to "save" themselves for

the class. The funny thing is practice becomes even more important

than ever when the person is teaching others. Relatively few have the

foresight or tenacity to maintain a consistently high level of

practice while fulfilling their teaching commitments or prudently

paring down their teaching and other commitments to a more manageable

level. The teacher must find a way to maintain the highest possible

level of commitment to their own practice as long as they are able-

bodied and fulfill their family responsibilities because once a

person starts teaching, he no longer practices just for himself but

also for his students. Too many teachers lackadaisically and

irresponsibly allow their practices to slide through the course of

time for no other reason than laziness, arrogance or some other form

of egoism. The irony is that they should be redoubling their efforts

in their own practice whilst they still continue to instruct others.

In the context of Ashtanga, the teacher would hopefully have had

many, many years of uninterrupted, intensive practice at a high level

before undertaking substantial teaching commitments. With that much

experience, hopefully they would also realise that they no longer

practice for themselves but for the duty of honouring Guru, God and

the people who look to him for guidance. To maintain a high quality

practice before early morning Mysore-style classes can be a test of a

teacher's mettle. It requires a certain amount of discipline and it

calls for a clarity of purpose and a commitment that most teachers

would need to dig deep to find. Having said that it must also be

added that conducive domestic conditions are usually necessary to

support such a lifestyle so needless to say those with families will

have to take them into consideration. Those without have little

excuse to recuse themselves from this tradition.

 

Even something as deceptively simple as teaching the opening and

closing mantras should not be overlooked. The opening mantra is

composed by the divinely-inspired personage of Shankaracharya. The

closing mantra is from the Rg Veda which is considered to be divine

revelation. The sounds produced by Sanskrit mantras have an intrinsic

power by themselves and it manifests only when chanted properly

according to the correct intonation and metre. The teacher needs to

appreciate and respect this and should only teach it if they

themselves, at the very least, understand the nuances of the

Devanagari script, how to correctly pronounce it. It would be best if

they also understood the meaning and intent of the words used.

Anything less than this is, understatedly, demonstrating severe

disrespect to just about everything that is held sacred in the

tradition of not only Ashtanga but Yoga as a timeless field of

profound knowledge and earnest endeavour. It is also tantamount to

dishonouring Guruji and his life's work considering that the study

and teaching of Sanskrit and the scriptural texts has been an

extremely important part of practically his entire life and that it

has inestimably directed the way he has taught and continues to teach

Ashtanga Yoga. It isn't a tall order by any means but so few make the

effort to learn the basics.

 

 

Finding a Teacher.....or not

 

Try to find a teacher whose actions and words in class are not

motivated by arrogance, bravado, showmanship or ignorance. Their very

motivation to teach should not be predicated on how it makes them

feel or what they want for themselves. Their motivations can be

discerned by simply and astutely observing how they conduct

themselves in class. What they try to teach you or how they adjust

you should be governed by the answers to 3 simple questions: What is

possible? What is desirable? What is appropriate for you at that

point of time? To answer these questions presupposes that the teacher

has your welfare at heart and that they are thinking of your

development before acting. They genuinely care for the development of

your whole nature, both material and spiritual. They will give you

what you need, that is, what is beneficial and appropriate for you,

rather than what you want.

 

These questions also presuppose that the teacher possesses a deep and

expansive view of the Ashtanga method, both theoretical and

practical. That means they have both extensive and intensive direct

experience of the Ashtanga practice. They have explored their own

physical and psychological edges and understood the nature and the

effects the Ashtanga practice and the way the breath, mind and body

respond to it. Such a person is most likely to have understood how to

breathe correctly and still listen internally at the same time.This

experienced knowledge is supported and continuously developed by the

instruction of their own teachers and the insights of the great yoga

text. Their instruction, verbal or physical, is motivated by a desire

to address the student's shortcomings such as ignorance, fear, doubt,

dullness or laziness. The best teacher is like a chameleon changing

their tone, their approach to suit the developmental needs of the

individual. He will repeatedly rub your nose into the lesson if

necessary to ensure that you understand it. He will seek to iron out

your emotional and mental fluctuations through the asana practice. By

various ways and means, he will help you to understand the nature of

your mind by forcing the fear and ignorance that reside within to

manifest during the course of long-term practice. I emphasize the

imperative need for intensive and extensive direct experience because

that alone ensures that the teacher truly understands and appreciates

what they are asking of you, that their knowledge and teaching is not

based on vicarious observations of someone else teaching or

practicing or from only having made a few weak, irresolute attempts

themselves or on second-hand conjectural hearsay fed by their

imagination.

 

If you're fortunate enough to find a good teacher, someone who

possesses to a fair degree most of the qualities that I have

mentioned, then stick with him as long as you reasonably can. Each

teacher has his or her own method of guiding you and they may likely

take their time about it since Ashtanga is a long-term practice. Too

often students frivolously hop from one teacher to another in the

hope of learning or realizing something new and novel and instead

they end up scattered and confused, understanding only a little of

many insignificant things and nothing substantial of anything.

Hopping from one teacher to another is disruptive and confusing to

your own practice and disheartening for the sincere teacher. It takes

a certain amount of time and energy for a teacher to get to know you

and determine what is the best way to guide you. You will also need

time to understand the teacher's methods and develop a stronger faith

in them. Thus this relationship can also be seen as an exchange of

time and energy that is confirmed by history, trust and respect, an

exchange whose fruits are only appreciated through a long period of

regular contact.

 

If you are not able to find a good teacher, have you thought about

just practicing on your own? I know that can be quite a difficult

thing to do but I honestly believe that it is a good idea for

everyone who takes Ashtanga seriously to occasionally spend extended

periods of time practicing without a teacher. Some of you might

wonder how you'll know you're doing the right thing or how you'll get

into the difficult poses without help. If you are already regularly

attending a Mysore style class, you probably already know more or

less what to do and what you need to work on; all you really need is

to believe in yourself. If you're still just trying to remember the

basic sequence of postures, you may need to stick to classes for

awhile until you feel reasonably confident and that you've got enough

on your plate to work on; but almost certainly, sooner or later, if

the desire to delve deeper arises, you'll realise the need to work on

things on your own. Those of you who think you might need adjustments

probably have just never spent an extended period of time working by

yourself on whatever pose you're having difficulty with because

through that process of exploration, you will understand the nature

of the pose as it pertains to you and thus discover what is possible,

desirable and appropriate for you. As an entirely personal process of

self-discovery, it is certainly the most meaningful and fun way to

learn.

 

As a long term endeavour, self-practice is especially good for those

of you who don't need or want much attention and are fairly

independent, self-learning sort of people. Having a yoga teacher

prancing and preening all over the class can be a major distraction

from what should be an internal focus. It is very difficult to focus

on honing the basic precepts of Ashtanga when there is an external

source of physical and verbal direction. Going to classes everyday,

you also tend to relinquish the responsibility for your practice to

the teacher, but there are almost no teachers in this city who are

honestly fit or capable of shouldering that kind of responsibility.

One can also become too dependent or attached to a teacher as an

external source of motivation and encouragement. Practicing on your

own will force you to seek within the reasons to practice which can

only lead you to a deeper understanding of yourself, what is Ashtanga

and what it means to you. As a fair compromise, practicing with

friends is also an excellent alternative as it provides peer support

while still allowing you the independence, quietude and freedom to

explore and learn.

 

Practice that is fueled by sincerity will, over time, open all the

right doors for you because sincerity bespeaks of faith, humility,

patience and determination - all the qualities that are needed in

abundance to succeed in any sadhana. The most and arguably only

important thing about Ashtanga is a daily practice done sincerely

with a devotional attitude. Once you've got that pegged down,

everything else that matters will follow over time. The plain and

simple truth is this: if you practice sincerely everyday, especially

if you're alone, you'll inevitably come to realize all the important

things that the Ashtanga method has to teach, things that no teacher

you're ever likely to encounter will be able to directly impart to

you. However if you're not practicing sincerely then well, no teacher

on earth can teach you anything of any value. Perhaps this is what

Guruji means when he repeatedly emphasizes: "Do your practice and all

is coming".