Perhaps it was the thick blanket of fog that rolled in and covered my neighborhood, obscuring the previously sunny blue sky over the tips of the Golden Gate and the Marin Headlands outside my window yesterday. Or maybe it is the thought of yet another year tacked on to the age I associate with this body, an impending calculation scheduled to come approximately a month from now. Whatever the reason, I have been reflecting with a sense of melancholy on what this all means – this yoga practice, this life. Because of my immersion into the Advanced Studies program at the Iyengar Yoga Institute of San Francisco, I have been asked to ponder what it means to pursue this practice with body, mind, heart and soul fully integrated and this seems like the perfect opportunity.

In order to try to answer this question, I continually come back again and again to sutra II.1: tapah svadhyaya Isvarapranidhanani kriyayogah – the acts of yoga are burning zeal in practice, study that leads to knowledge of the self, and surrender to God.

Stuck in the mire of the day to day, I see that those who are recognized and rewarded around me are not necessarily those who follow this path of yoga – a path that asks the practitioner to seek sauca (purity) and santosa (contentment), among other things that seem at complete odds with how modern society operates. Is it possible to be successful in society and also follow the guidelines set out in the yama (societal discipline) and niyama (individual discipline)? To surrender to God? Do I even want to be deemed successful in the way society prescribes?

Perhaps more to the point, can I truly live in and of this world and find cohesiveness within myself?

In elucidating the practice of asana in Light on Yoga, B.K.S. Iyengar writes:

Where does the body end and the mind begin? Where does the mind end and the spirit begin? They cannot be divided as they are inter-related and but different aspects of the same all-pervading divine consciousness (41).

The way that I interpret this statement is that it is not some lofty goal to reach to integrate body-mind-heart-soul in practice. Through my attempts to maintain tapas (burning zeal in practice) by creating space for asana and pranayama daily, I gain a greater sense of calm in my life. Through my time spent on the mat, I have glimpses of understanding that I can be content, no matter how society defines success – I have great friends and family, a loving husband, a roof over my head, and teachers who help guide me on this journey. Moreover, because I have begun to mine my consciousness for a deeper understanding of what this existence is all about, I have found a spiritual side of myself I never knew was possible before. This kriya yoga (yoga of action) is what allows me to understand that I am already whole within myself, to recognize and celebrate this journey; to be content with what is and what is to be. It is this experiential art that helps me to realize that success in my view is not how other people see me, but how I learn to see myself.

Yoga is the Cessation of the Fluctuations of Consciousness (YS I.2)

Patanjali begins the second chapter of the yoga sutras by further defining yoga for the sadhaka (practioner of yoga), stating: tapah svadhyaya Isvarapranidhanani kriyayogah - the acts of yoga are burning zeal in practice, study that leads to knowledge of the self, and surrender to God (YS II.1). He goes on to say that this practice reduces the five klesas (afflictions) which disturb our consciousness and lead to samadhi (profound meditation or absorption) (YS II.3). So what are these afflictions? Leave it to Patanjali’s highly organized and succinct text to help us out; according to the great sage, the five afflictions are avidya (spiritual ignorance), asmita (ego or I am-ness), raga (attachment to pleasure), dvesa (aversion to pain), and abhinivesa (fear of death or clinging to life) (YS II.3).

Patanjali teaches us that these afflictions bind the seer with the seen. Indeed, for him, they are at the root of this human bondage. Through spiritual ignorance, man is unable to realize his true nature – the soul is eclipsed from view by the false identification of this bodily experience with eternal reality. The sense of “me” as intrinsically linked to the body-mind is problematic, as it directly engenders the last three klesas. If I am only what I see and feel, why should I not want to seek out only desirable experiences and avoid anything that I consider distasteful? What is the point of this life, if not to create a cocoon surrounding this body, to dwell in complete comfort, to protect it from harm and, ultimately, from death? The sage and the adept yogi know, however, that there is more to the cosmos than what our mind’s eye can see.

As sadhakas, our work is to restore balance and equanimity in order to transcend the cycle of human experience. The path of yoga is not an easy one, however, and the klesas creep up on a daily basis in every aspect of our lives, even in our own practice. Each klesa feeds the others, helping the karmic wheel turn again and again.

Several examples come to mind when thinking about the klesas and their role in my own life. In my yoga practice, I tend to gravitate towards asana that come readily to this body I inhabit and attempt to avoid those that do not. I dye my hair, not only for the aesthetics of the lovely colors, but also to hide the grays – a sure sign of my eventual descent into old age and death. In my career, I am fortunate to be treated to fabulous food and wine, which in the moment may be a delicious treat, but create hours of pain at the gym to keep additional pounds at bay. I could go on and on.

Does this mean that I should stop doing asana I prefer to do or stop coloring my hair or forgo the Champagne and caviar? Perhaps. But I am far from an ascetic and, believe me, I would have a long way to go to get there. Yet, yoga has brought about a profound change in me, even though I am still firmly rooted in society. I work on the poses that do not come so easily and seek out the teachers that challenge me. I worry less about the grays and try to keep myself from worrying about my eventual demise (something Patanjali acknowledges is even difficult for the wisest of men). I attempt moderation even during the most delectable of meals.

Through this physical, psychological and spiritual practice, I have come to a deeper understanding of my body and my mind, to find moments of quiet, to know that the vrttis (fluctuations of consciousness) can be stilled. Balance in asana translates to balance in life, reminding me throughout the day that although this life is fleeting, my essential nature is of one at peace. The philosophy is not intellectual, but experiential and it is that experience that keeps me coming back to my mat day after day.

“What do you like doing best in the world, Pooh?” [asked Christopher Robin]

“Well,” said Pooh, “what I like best —” and then he had to stop and think. Because although eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called (110).

The Tao of Pooh, Benjamin Hoff

My physical yoga practice has admittedly lapsed over the course of the last two weeks. Between birthdays, family visits and work, among other things, I have just not made time for asana every single day, as I promised myself I would. I could choose to beat myself up over not taking an hour out of my day for something that is so integral to my emotional, physical and spiritual well-being. Or I could choose to look at all the other aspects of the teachings that I carry with me off of the mat and be content with what is, instead of what I wish would be.

In Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, B.K.S. Iyengar writes “As yama is universal social practice, niyama evolves from individual practices necessary to build up the sadhaka’s own character” (144). The five niyama are translated as:

• Sauca: cleanliness, purity
• Santosa: contentment
• Tapas: religious fervor or zeal, a burning desire
• Svādhyāya: study which leads to knowledge of the self
• Ishvara Pranidhana: surrender to Ishvara (God)

Of all the niyama, santosa is something that I strive for everyday in all aspects of my life. This can be difficult, as our culture does not support the value of contentment. We are taught from the very beginning of our lives that we should strive to be the best, to make the most money, to have bigger and better things. Indeed, we are rewarded for not being content. If we get good grades in high school and participate in extra-curricular activities, we can go to a top university to get a more highly recognized degree, which theoretically leads to a more successful career path. If we work hard and make goals to get the bonus money, we can buy a new car or house or the latest iGadget. There is always something to be gained in society’s eye by not being content.

Sometimes, however, taking a step back and looking at the abundance around us is a necessary task. There is always something more out there to aspire to, particularly in the internet age, where we are wired and aware of seemingly endless possibilities for consumption. Designer clothes, a “better” body, vacations to exotic locales – our fetishistic society leaves no stone unturned when it comes to creating desire. Trying to keep up with the Joneses (or the Kardashians) very rarely leaves one feeling content with their lot.

This practice of yoga teaches us to have burning zeal (tapas) in our practice, but according to Guruji’s explanation of sutra II.42, santosat anuttamah sukhalabhah, this cannot be achieved without purity and contentment:

From contentment and benevolence of consciousness comes supreme happiness.

Through cleanliness of the body, contentment is achieved. Together they ignite the flame of tapas, propelling the sadhaka towards the fire of knowledge. This transformation, which indicates that the sadhaka is on the right path of concentration, enables him to look inwards through Self-study (svadhyaya) and then towards Godliness (155).

Thus, it is not our desire that leads to the stoking of the flame in our practice, but our ability to be content, which is driven by purity of thought, word and deed.

As I return to my daily asana practice (starting today), I will carry this knowledge with me. I will accept what I cannot change with equanimity and continue to pursue this path with single-minded focus. I will seek the higher self within me, while recognizing that life continues around me. I will attempt to be content with what I have, with who I am, and with what is to be. Perhaps most importantly, I will try to find contentment in the interstitial spaces, where there is time for reflexivity; a moment to be grateful for what is happening in the present moment, regardless of what is to come next.

“Illuminated emancipation, freedom, unalloyed and untainted bliss await you, but you have to choose to embark on the Inward Journey to discover it.” (B.K.S.Iyengar)

I have been practicing yoga off and on for about eight and a half years now and have explored a range of styles. Anusara, Ashtanga, Bikram, Hatha, Iyengar, Kundalini, Para-Yoga, Power Yoga, and Vinyasa are all familiar to me to varied extents. The mat became my friend soon after moving in with my now husband, then boyfriend, Jeremy. He had suffered a few minor injuries and was looking for something to help ease pain in his neck and back. We took our first class together while visiting his father on Lopez Island in the San Juan Islands off the coast of Washington State.

Though I could not pinpoint the exact reason why, something kept me coming back to my mat over and over and over again. When I found myself straying from one yogic path, another path would make itself known to me. Unlike other activities I have taken up in the past, yoga has been a mainstay. About two years ago, I started taking classes in the Iyengar tradition in San Francisco. Through this particular form of practice I found a community that started to help me understand why I was so deeply drawn to yoga. I began to gravitate toward certain teachers, to push myself to take a 200-hour Teacher Training at a local studio, then to commit myself to the two year, 500-hour Advanced Studies program at the Iyengar Yoga Institute of San Francisco (IYISF) – the first of its kind in the United States, established in 1974.

For our final project in Asana I at IYISF, our teacher asked us to write a piece reflecting on a moment when we caught a glimpse of what Patanjali, the compiler of the Yoga Sutras (aphorisms on the practice of yoga), called citta vritti nirodhah. This sutra is often translated as the cessation of the fluctuations of consciousness. Through this practice of yoga, we are seeking to still the thoughts and patterns created by our mind, our ego and our intellect. For a beginner, this may seem like a thankless task.

Personally, my most recent moments of inward movement within my asana practice have come during Salamba Sirsasana (supported headstand). It is a challenging pose for me for so many reasons – not the least is balancing on my head! But it is also a pose for quiet reflection and using the body to still the mind. When I fold my mat in the middle of the room and set up my forearms parallel to each other, taking care to keep my shoulders up the entire time, I find myself letting go of the to-do lists I have been writing in my head, my worries over whether or not I will make my bonus this year, my pestering thoughts about the extra five or ten pounds I would always like to shed, because as soon as I take those trains of thought back up, I lose my pose.

This leads right into her second question of how I would share this experience with a beginner. Obviously a true beginner to yoga is not going to be lifting into headstand in the middle of the room; indeed they may not even be able to kick up to the wall. But I think the experience is truly there in all the poses, even ones that some people would consider to be less advanced. If I am standing in Prasarita Padottonasana (wide-legged forward fold), a pose taught to beginning students before headstand, I have to maintain many actions to keep my balance. I must keep my legs straight and strong without locking my knees, maintaining balance between the two sides of my body and my place in space. I also have to be patient, taking care to extend my spine, lift my chest and sternum and lengthen my neck without straining to do so. If I practice svadhyaya, study that leads to knowledge of the self, I know that I must continue to assess and reassess my pose, because if I falter I will no longer be in the pose, I will be off dancing with my vritti.

In all honesty, I still consider myself a beginner at this yoga practice. Although I head with burning zeal into more advanced classes, workshops and other trainings, I will likely remain a beginner in this lifetime.  I have to constantly remind myself to remain present, to be patient, yet reflective, and to continue to do the donkey work. If I ever take up the task of teaching beginning yogis, I will gently remind them that it is a constant struggle, but a worthy one. I take solace in the fact that I now have my community and my teachers to help lead me along this inward path (and with that pesky headstand, too).

Looking for a fun event to participate in? Wondering what tax-deductible donations you should be making this year? Look no further!

For more information, go to http://erinkennedyyoga.com/community-events/

I am very excited to report that my cohort and I have officially completed the first quarter of the 2013 Advanced Studies/Teacher Training at the Iyengar Yoga Institute of San Francisco. I am excited to be a part of this diverse group of committed yogis pursuing the honorable path of yoga. I am already learning so much from them and am excited to get to know each of them better throughout our two years together at the Institute.

Many thanks to Jito Yumibe for her teachings on Asana I and to John Hayden for his course on the Yoga Sutras, which will continue on next quarter. Both classes have been illuminative and inspiring in different ways. Though, Jito will be missed as we move on to another teacher for Asana II, her zeal for this practice will remain with me as I continue my progress toward certification.

Stay tuned for posts on Teacher Training, asana, philosophy and so much more!

Human societies have long laid out rules of moral and ethical conduct in order to maintain harmony within and among social groups. For a modern day yogi, this is important not only because most of us still reside within society, but also because our behavior toward ourselves and others is critical to following the eight-limbed path Patanjali lays out in the Yoga Sutras. In B.K.S Iyengar’s Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, the yama are translated as “the great, mighty, universal vows, unconditioned by place, time and class.”

The five yama are as often translated as follows:

• Ahimsa – non-harming, non-violence
• Satya – honesty, truth
• Asteya – non-stealing, non-misappropriating
• Brahmacharya – continence, chastity, religious studentship
• Aparigraha – non-attachment, non-grasping, non-possessiveness

These precepts are multi-layered, applicable to all dimensions of our lives; from everyday interactions with each other, to how we support and maintain our mental, physical and spiritual health. There are so many questions to ask in relation to the yama: Am I kind to strangers? Am I truthful to my friends? Have I taken what is not truly mine? Am I faithful to my spouse? Do I hoard or covet possessions?

From a yogic perspective, the yama are as critical out in the world as they are on the mat. Growing up, I heard the concept of the Golden Rule often – do unto others as you would have done to you is an oft-quoted phrase in a family with four children – but rarely was it applied on a more individual level. Through feminism and yoga, I have come to more fully embrace the fact that, in myriad ways, how you nourish yourself every day is as important as how you treat others. In my yoga practice I have learned to question whether or not I am truly applying the yama on the mat and, quite frankly, it is more difficult than one would imagine.

To illustrate how the yama can be applied to life on and off the mat, I will use the example of the fifth yama, aparigraha (non-grasping, non-possessiveness). I am typically a very focused, goal-oriented person. I like to win and can be very competitive in certain arenas. Though this personality trait has served me well in certain parts of my life, my drive also stems from a desire to possess the fruits of my labor. I worked very hard in school so that I could get good grades and be accepted to graduate school. I strive for promotion in order to get a raise in pay or more esteem in my company.

On the mat, I also find myself working toward goals. Two years ago, I could not lift up into Urdhva Dhanurasana (upward bow pose). I needed to work on my strength, as well as flexibility to finally be able to get off of the ground. Initially, I used props to help me work my way into the pose, practiced different ways of lifting up and dropping back, finally finding the ability to straighten my arms and leave only hands and feet on the mat. Similarly, in Sirsasana (headstand) I could not balance in the middle of the room. Being relegated to the wall was frustrating to me. In the Yoga Garden Teacher Training last year, I was finally forced to attempt standing on my head in the middle of the room and discovered I had already been able to do so, but was holding myself back out of fear.

While striving toward degrees, getting promotions at work and advancing my asana practice may seem like worthy objectives (and in and of themselves are not inherently problematic), these examples provide an insight into how I have been taught to reach for the end product, rather than staying present. There is a value judgment latent in certain goals: Am I a “true yogi” if I practice handstand against the wall? Have I grown in my career if I do not get a pay raise or promotion every year?

What observing aparigraha means to me in this context is that I should continue to do what I have been doing all along, but without expectation that I will get some sort of reward when all is said and done. Instead of attaching importance to the results of my actions, I am trying to practice for the sake of my practice and work for the sake of my work. The effort is what is important; it alone will lead me to freedom.

In so many ways this thread leads back to the other yama, one of those lovely tricks of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras. By not grasping for the end result, I am also not harming myself through self-reproach or physical injury; I am being honest in my practice by working at the level I am at now instead of coveting the practice of others; I am following in the steps of my teachers, rather than taking their teachings and utilizing or branding them in my own way; and I am being faithful to my practice, to my teachers and to my community. There is reward in following the values set out in the eight-limbed path. Results will come, but the journey is even more important and (dare I say?) more fascinating.

Right Ways of Living According to the Sages (and My Grandma)

Yoga is an ancient experiential science, a way of connecting to the divine while experiencing life in human form. While I did not grow up in a Hindu or Buddhist household, yoga was in the water here in the Bay Area – in my house there was reference to breath work, chakras and other aspects of developing the self as if it were part of everyone’s daily life. One of my first experiences with yoga was in the late 1980s and early 1990s, with deep breathing and meditation – concepts gleaned from two books I borrowed from my mother’s shelves: Our Bodies, Ourselves, by the Boston Women’s Health Collective and Going Within: An Inner Guide to Transformation, by Shirley MacLaine. I tried to emulate the experiences discussed within these texts, knowing that there would be some kind of positive result from my practice. We did not call it yoga when I was a child, but once I started practicing regularly in my late twenties, I was already familiar with some of the language and concepts of yoga.

According to the sage Patanjali, there are eight limbs of yoga. In my current understanding, grounded in the knowledge imparted to me by my teachers past and present, these limbs, when practiced regularly, are what bring our human nature closer to our divine soul. They are variously translated in the following ways:

• Yama: self-restraint; control; universal moral commandments
• Niyama: right observance; precepts; established order; self-purification by discipline
• Asana: right alignment or posture
• Pranayama: regulation or restraint of breath; rhythmic control of the breath
• Pratyahara: withdrawal of the senses; withdrawal and emancipation of the mind from the domination of the senses and exterior objects
• Dharana: concentration; focus
• Dhyana: meditation; contemplation; reflection
• Samadhi: free attention; absorption; a state of super-consciousness brought about by profound meditation, in which the individual aspirant (sadhaka) becomes one with the object of his meditation (Paramatma or the Universal Spirit)

The second limb of Astanga (eight-limbed) yoga is concerned with what Ravi Ravindra terms “right observance” in his translation and exposition on the Yoga Sutras. These are the niyama, of which there are five, and they are listed as thus in Sri B.K.S Iyengar’s Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali:

• Sauca: cleanliness, purity
• Santosa: contentment
• Tapas: religious fervor or zeal, a burning desire
• Svādhyāya: study which leads to knowledge of the self
• Ishvara Pranidhana: surrender to Ishvara (God)

There are many interpretations of the niyama, both within the yoga community and in in other spiritual disciplines, however there is a general consensus that these observances are requisite on the path to spiritual enlightenment. Indeed, these precepts are also familiar from many of the faiths that I have encountered as a Westerner.

Though I personally was not raised in a religious household, school, friends, family and popular culture have all acquainted me with the moral and ethical deeds that would bring me closer to God, or at the very least help me become a valued member of society. One very base example of the similarities between Western and Eastern moral and ethical guidelines is the glaring parallel of sauca to the oft-spoken phrase “Cleanliness is next to Godliness,” something that I heard from people of religious and non-religious backgrounds (even self-avowed Atheists, to my delight).

In my own practice, both on and off the mat, I find the niyamas to be very challenging. In asana in particular, I find myself tensing up, discontented with my abilities, unable to find the reason why I cannot perfect my headstand or downward facing dog pose. Sometimes I just do not feel like practicing and would rather go out for pizza than subject myself to an hour and a half of my teacher’s examining eyes or roll out the mat and salute the sun. But then I remember that yoga is indeed about practice and practicing the niyamas – I must remember to utilize self-discipline to forgo that pizza and work on asana in order to be clean of body, I must walk the line between being content and yet work with zeal to help myself understand what challenges there are in each posture. Most importantly, I must be secure in the knowledge that I have dedicated my practice to Ishvara, to my teachers and their teachers, and ultimately to myself in order to find my higher self.

Thus, while the language of the Yoga Sutras is relatively new to me, the concepts are old friends. From my grandma to the sages, the ideal has always been maintain cleanliness inside and out, to be content with our lot in life, yet strive to be the best we can be and to always seek our internal truth in order to bring ourselves closer to perfection.

As someone who reads articles upon articles about yoga and is constantly discussing yoga with friends, family, and (quite frankly) anyone who will gab with me about yoga, I am fed up with the abundance of talk about yoga as a tool for weight loss or getting the famed “yoga butt.” This may not make me very popular in the world of Lululemon, but the purpose of yoga is not to attain physical beauty. Current research even shows that yoga will actually slow your metabolism. Yes, you read that correctly.

Now, I will not sit here and proselytise about yoga being a spiritual practice (which it is) with strict codes of ethical and moral conduct (also true). I am not here to tell you that dropping into a yoga class once a week will not get you that famed “yoga butt” or help you find enlightenment (it won’t). I will, however, tell you that I think all the talk about the aesthetic benefits of yoga not only misses the forest for the trees, but also perpetuates a culture in which the cult of thin is valued over all else and “beauty” is measured by an ideal most of us will never attain. In the odd chance that we do arrive at this culturally accepted state of perfection, it will be for a very short period in our lives, because we all (hopefully) grow old. And, guess what? Old, for some crazy reason, is not considered beautiful by the folks that crank out magazines, movies and advertisements.

*Deep breath*

Full disclosure: I have been guilty of “selling” yoga with the same taglines. I even look in the mirror now and again (every day) and think, “Why does my ______ not look fabulous? Are those endless _______ not working at all?”

And then I look up or turn around and peer into my own eyes and remind myself that it is not my inner yogi talking to me, but a whole lifetime of having the beauty industry tell me I am incomplete without a wrinkle creme or a cellulite treatment or the perfect conditioner.

Recently, I was in a class in which the instructor told the students that if we stood a certain way, we would “look thin.” I bristled at the statement. I got mad. I thought about all the women and men who have suffered from eating disorders, some of whom died for the cause of getting thin. I thought of all the people, mostly women, who have gone under the knife in their quest for physical perfection. Then, I asked myself why I was so upset about what the teacher had said. I realized it was less about the teacher’s statement, which was probably really made with good intentions despite the insensitivity, than the fact that deep down I needed to deal with my issues about the body and the impossible expectations that have been set up in our culture. And that yoga + (my) body does not always = thin/perfect.

So here I am. Am I always happy with my body? No. But am I thankful for all it does for me every day? Heck, yes!

The above quote by Naomi Wolf should teach us all something about the cult of thin and, interestingly, about yoga. She observes that society is attempting to control women by creating a culture in which we diminish ourselves voluntarily. I would argue that men are increasingly engaged in the same pursuit, due to the almost never-ending emphasis on physical perfection in the media, which is so often equated with being thin. I am not saying that thin is wrong, but that in our yoga practice, we should not be seeking a way to make ourselves invisible or less than what we are. Fixating on how a certain part of our body looks is not the purpose of yoga. We should be seeking a fuller, more healthy, holistic worldview through our practice. We should be finding peace and joy within ourselves. And if we develop a few lovely curves and even lovelier wrinkles in the process, so be it!

I have recently been exposed to a great deal of radio programs and articles about the act of practicing gratitude in your everyday life. There has been an abundance of research that shows the positive affects of giving thanks. The research is something to be thankful for indeed – overwhelmingly showing that people who are consciously grateful for what they have are happier and more healthy (mentally and physically) than their non-practicing counterparts.

One of the main suggestions I have seen and heard repeatedly is to keep a log of what you are thankful for on a regular basis. That means daily, folks. And this mindful recording of gratitude is not only supposed to ward off depression and other ills, but increase intimacy in personal relationships and satisfaction at work and in life more generally. I don’t know about you, but it sounds like a good thing to try. Free, simple and a relatively small amount of time and energy for what seems to be an especially great return on investment? I am sold.

Today, I am starting my own gratitude project. I am going to start by thanking all those folks who have been grateful all along. They have provided a path for us all to follow. Take a peek at my Twitter feed for all the things I am grateful for and please share your thanks, as well – we’ll all be happier for it!