Jamie at On the Mat recently posted a nice review of the book/movie event, Eat Pray Love.

I have to say that the book fell a bit flat for me, although I did read it until the end.  I enjoyed the bits about Bali because I go there often and recognized many of the places, but I couldn't really relate to Gilbert's character, and I didn't find myself warming to her.  Maybe that's because I've never been through a divorce.  Maybe I'm just a different kind of person in the way I deal with hardship in my life.  I did like the wise words of the Texan yoga dude though.  I wish HE would write a book!

Anyway, as a spin off to Jamie's post, I have definitely been affected by the side affect of this book that she mentions - the people who are now going on copy-cat vacations and yes, you guessed it, ending up in Ubud, Bali, one of my favourite and often frequented (it's only 1.5 hours away by plane) vacation spots!  Not that there's anything wrong with that - Ubud is a tourist mecca and not exactly private anyway! - but really, there are only so many western women looking to find themselves (and a hot Brazilian second husband wouldn't hurt...) who can hang around in any one small Balinese town! ;)

I guess the thing that bothers me is that some of these visitors are traveling to far-flung places but are not really as interested in discovering those places as in finding themselves.  Now there's nothing wrong with soul-searching, but if you are going to come to someone else's home, why not learn a bit about it?  Get to know some of the locals? Learn about the history and politics of the place, the struggles and joys of its people?  I know Gilbert did this to some extent in her book, and that's great, but I have met people in Bali who don't even know that Bali is part of the Republic of Indonesia!  Really.

Last time I was in Ubud I met a woman on one such soul quest.  When I told her that I lived in East Timor (blank look), an island south-east of Bali, she looked at me and breathily oozed: "oooooooh, is it just PARADISE?".  I hardly even knew how to respond.  The words sort of stumbled out and I mumbled, "oh, it's not as nice as here", and moved off.  It wasn't her fault that she wasn't aware of the poverty, hardship and suffering (or existence at all), of the people in East Timor.   But what I wanted to say was "no... and neither is Bali".

Because Bali, while it may seem like paradise (and I'll be interested to see how it comes across in the film), is just a place like anywhere else.  Behind the glossy tourist facades, there is a harder life, too.  Corruption, harsh political realities and the constant struggle against poverty are just as much a reality here as many other places in the Indonesian archipelago.

Just sayin...  Satya, they yogic principle of truthfulness, is also about seeing the world as it is, in all its multi-layered complexity.  Not seeing only what you want to be true.

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by Nina

Cloud and Sunset by Brad Gibson

by Nina

Anatomical Body India, Gujarat, 18th century

While preparing to write this post, I discovered that I had, uh, completely forgotten about some of the things I’ve written for the blog. (Hey, I’ve been writing at least one post a week—and sometimes two or three—for almost three years.) Yes, I was quite surprised to find a post about how we could use the wisdom of the Bhagavad Gita to heal from an election so divisive that even Big Bird wasn’t being nice (see Yoga Philosophy of the Day, Part 2), another about how I was using yoga philosophy to prepare for a trip to Germany that I was feeling uneasy about (see Yoga Philosophy of the Day), and a third about how we can use wisdom of yoga to change our behavior patterns (see Thinking About the Wisdom of Yoga). But it’s no surprise at all to me that I find yoga philosophy extremely valuable in my every day life. And I’ve written about that in a general overview—which I have not forgotten about—called Why You Should Study Yoga Philosophy.  

As I mentioned in my post Svadhyaya (Self-Study), Part 1, there are two different interpretations of the meaning of niyama svadhyaya (self-study). In his book The Yoga Sutras of Patajanli, Edwin Bryant says:
Svadhyaya literally means self-study, but it more commonly refers to the study of sacred texts (in a sense the two meanings overlap, since sacred texts typically teach about the self).
So while one meaning of svadhyaya is to cultivate your inner witness to study your own self as I wrote about my first post earlier this week, another is to study the yoga scriptures, such as the Bhagavad Gita and The Yoga Sutras, and—if you’re feeling brave—the Vedas and Upanishads. And this type of study complements your self-study because as you read these texts, you can reflect how to use the knowledge they contain. I consulted with Ram before writing my posts on svadhyaya’s two different meanings, and he recommended asking yourself these questions about the scriptures:

• How do you use the knowledge for self-empowerment? 
• How do you use the knowledge for the betterment of society? 
• How do you grow in body and mind after reading those scriptures? 

This kind of self-study can also include more than reading just the original scriptures themselves. As Ram said:
S(s)vadhyaya =education, study, or knowledge improvement that is gained from studying not just scriptures but any book or any experience that provides deep meaning or interpretation of life (that is, thought provoking).
So svadhyaya includes any books about yoga, whether books that interpret the scriptures, such as the Edwin Bryant book I mentioned above (which I frequently turn to), books about the history of yoga, such as Georg Feuerstein’s The Yoga Tradition about ancient yoga and Yoga Body: The Origins of Modern Posture Practice by Mark Singleton about modern yoga, or modern books about yoga (plus, our blog, of course). Obviously, texts from the religions of the world will also provide you with food for thought, but you should also consider psychology books and books about human behavior. Two of the non-fiction books that have influenced me greatly include Full Catastrophe Living by Jon Kabat-Zinn and A General Theory of Love by Thomas Lewis, Fari Amini, and Richard Lannon. Even fiction that explores the human condition can contribute to your self-study (I read an interesting New York Times article For Better Social Skills, Scientists Recommend a Little Chekhov that explained how literary fiction can help you develop empathy and improve your understanding of human behavior).
It makes a lot of sense that in our studies of the self, we should turn to the wisdom of others. After all, yogis and people of other cultures worldwide have been engaged in self-study for centuries, so we can learn a tremendous amount from their experiences. As a matter of fact, the single piece of yogic wisdom that I keep returning to in my everyday life is over two thousand years old:

by Nina

Tama River in the Musashi Province by Hokusai

One of the most difficult times in my life—and in my marriage—was when Brad and I were fighting over our future. When our children were small, he wanted the four of us to move to New York City because he was interested in a possible academic position at a university there, and I wanted to stay in Berkeley so I could keep my own job—which felt like a special opportunity to me—stay near my family, and raise our children in a house with a garden rather than a small apartment. Without going into details about our arguments, I’ll just say that our desires for our future were so different that it felt like they were tearing us apart. And I became extremely stressed out and anxious. But here’s the thing: although Brad interviewed for the job he wanted, the university decided not to hire anyone for that position after all. So in the end, all the angst we went through was over nothing. I eventually realized that this was a pattern in our relationship—battling over things that hadn’t happened yet. I also realized I had a tendency to be anxious about possible future scenarios. So after that I came up the following motto for myself: Don’t Panic Too Soon. Believe it or not, just having this simple motto has been quite powerful, and I continue to invoke it to this day. 

by Ram

Path at La Cavee, Pourville by Claude Monet

In my post Ashtanga Yoga: Following the Eight-Fold Path Ashtanga Yoga: Following the Eight-Fold Path, I defined Ashtanga Yoga (Ashta=eight; Anga=limbs) as the eight-fold path/eight rungs/limbs/steps of yoga, whose practice helps us to discriminate between ignorance and awareness and truth from illusion which is the means for liberation or enlightenment. I followed it up by discussing the first of the eight steps Yamas  as moral and ethical strategies that guide us to lead a conscious, honest and ethical life.
Today’s article focuses on Niyamas, the second of the eight rungs or limbs. If the Yamas are "don't do" practices," the Niyamas are the “to do” practices. These are personal observances/practices of self-training and deal with how we relate to the environment around us as well as to our own selves. The five niyamas are: 

1. Saucha=cleanliness
2. Santosha=contentment
3. Tapas=spiritual austerities
4. Svadhyaya=study of the sacred scriptures and of one's self
5. Isvara pranidhana=surrender to divinity 

Santosha (Happiness/Contentment):  To be contented and happy even while experiencing life’s difficulties becomes a process of growth through all kinds of circumstances. Santosha means being happy with what we have rather than being unhappy about what we don't have. Humans are always seeking for more and never seem contented with their materialistic possessions and internal fantasies. This leads to misery and triggers the disease process. However, if we are contented with our wants, wishes and needs, and truly happy with our lifestyle and what we currently have, it will help us in the journey to absolute truth and the highest realization. Your own test for Santosha would be about whether you respond through the five senses and react to the changes in all the circumstances of life or whether you listen to your inner voice and are not swayed by the material instincts. For more on this, read my article Santosha: Happiness and Longevity.
Tapas (Spiritual Austerities): This term is derived from the root word “taph,” which means blaze, burning, discipline, and illumination, and refers to a burning desire or a disciplinary approach to achieve one’s aims and aspirations. Several teachers translate this term to mean austerities; the reason being that in order to reach your goal in life, you need to have motivation, fiery discipline, focus and intense commitment. These qualities help to burn/ward off the mental obstacles and physical impediments that keep us from being in the true state of yoga. The goals of Tapas are:

• stopping being dictated by the five senses
• reigning in the mind
• listening to the voice of intellect
• performing mindful actions

When you act from your intellect and nurture your burning aspirations, you are freeing yourself from the many mindless actions that cause suffering. The effort you use when you engage tapas is directed toward cultivating meaningful and healthful habits whose practice now seem effortless. No longer is it a discipline, but a way of life.
Svadhyaya (Self Study): This term is derived from the root words Sva=Self and Adhyaya= study, education, knowledge, wisdom. I interpret Svadhyaya as education of the self, introspection, and self-realization. Self-study and realization help the mind to become clear or pure and develop deeper mind-body awareness. A clear mind is not affected by stress and produces a healthy body, thus creating a greater connection with one's own pure, essential nature. The path to self-realization is also through introspection and contemplation of our own life’s lessons. Introspecting about our emotions, thoughts, actions, and reactions helps us to learn about our own self and our true nature. When we reflect on our flaws and allow our mistakes to serve as learning lessons, we have the opportunity to grow. By turning a witness to your own self, you begin to notice what’s happening within you—your sensations, thoughts, emotions, and feelings—thus, through the process of self study you are empowering your self. 
Ishvara Pranidhana (Surrender to Divinity): This term is derived from the root words Isvara=state of collective consciousness and pranidhana=presence, dedication, devotion, and surrender to the fruits of practice. When we expand our individual consciousness and merge with the universal consciousness, we experience true self. Our world is a reflection of our own consciousness, and our experiences in the world are determined by what is going on within our consciousness. This individual identity masks the true nature of consciousness. Through the process of awakening and surrendering to the outcome of our actions we have the ability to take actions that do not serve the ego but which originate from our own consciousness. Through study, inquiry, reflection, and awareness, our consciousness is able to pierce through the illusory world, achieve mind-body awareness, and ultimately attain enlightenment. Notice and observe that ultimate state is divine, loving, and peaceful, and gives the feeling of oneness with body, mind and spirit.

Thus, Niyamas help us to perform those activities that not only empower us but the society around us as well. Such beneficial activities do not disturb the Self’s natural balance and the environment around us. Performing these activities assists us in gradually recognizing our true nature. The body is at ease; the mind attains peace.

Yesterday afternoon (Sunday March 24th), I had the great pleasure of interviewing Kino right after her workshop in LA. This interview is about the niyamas, the second limb of yoga. Well, I guess I'll keep my words brief here, and let the interview speak for itself. I hope you will like it.

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The equinox has passed, the Earth is shifting on its axis, and everywhere I look, change is in the air.

In times of change, we ourselves shift on our axes. Perhaps, unawares, we simply begin moving to a different rhythm, but it may be that we find ourselves questioning, doubting, or resisting the shifts in our bodies and minds. Perhaps we are clinging to the way things were before. Perhaps we are grasping at a future that has not quite manifested.

The changing of the seasons brings changes to our routines. As householder yogis, a change in the season will almost invariably bring about a change in our asana practice. We may find ourselves unable to practice as much, or practicing in a different way. As I browse around the blogsphere, I notice a degree of anxiety about these changes. I read words from bloggers who are hard on themselves, who judge themselves, who "beat themselves up" in their minds if they don't practice long enough, hard enough, if they don't do that pose. Now, we have all been there, and maybe this is part of the process that we all have to go through in order to let go of our egos, but it makes me think that it is easy to get too attached to our asana practice.

Now, wait, isn't that what yoga is all about? Well - no. In times like this I remind myself that asana is only 1 of the 8 limbs of yoga. I remind myself that the fundamentals of yoga are the yamas and the niyamas (the restraints and the self-restraints). They are like the roots of the tree, the soil that nourishes the soul, and they are a practice in themselves.

The yamas and the niyamas ground us when the road is smooth, and guide us through the bumps of transformation.  Like all ethical codes, they are there to help us handle hard choices. Most of all they are a lens through which we are asked to see ourselves - and this, of course, is the hardest journey of all.

The inspirational Nadine Fawell is no stranger to hard journeys. She has had to confront the emotional scars of childhood abuse and the damaging cycle of fear and self-sabotage that it left her in. She dug deep, and emerged on the other side with a profound insight into how to use the transformational power of yoga to "cut through your emotional B.S., get strong and comfortable in your body, and learn the art of radical self-acceptance."

And the best part? She wants to share it with YOU.  She has taken what she has learned and created a 4-week e-course called Light Up Your Life.  Combining yoga, yoga philosophy, journalling, healthy eating and relaxation techniques, Light Up Your Life is designed to help you identify the areas of your life, or yourself, that you want to shed light on - and to realise that desire.  I think what she has put together is amazing, and I am super-proud to be an affiliate of the course.

Does lighting up your life sound like just what you need this fall/spring? Head over to her website and bring on the light!

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I am not usually one to re-post old posts. But I came across this one from my archives the other day and couldn't help but re-post it.  

When you begin to dive deeper into the philosophy of yoga, some of the first things you encounter are the ethical principles that serve as guidelines to a 'yogic life'. Known as the Yamas (abstinences) and the Niyamas (self-restrictions), these principles are the foundations of any practice of yoga that goes beyond the physical body.

As a person with no religious upbringing, the ethical code of yoga both inspired and daunted me. And since I have never had the inclination to devote myself to a deity or God, I initially struggled with many of the devotional aspects of yoga philosophy, and with teachers who are on a devotional path. It wasn't that I didn't respect their views - I simply couldn't relate to their journey or understand their explanations of things. One concept in particular that stumped me was the requirement, as expressed by the Niyamas (which every yoga teacher must sort of 'swear' to uphold) of "Ishvarapranidhana" - Devotion to God.

So if you, like me, struggle somewhat with this concept, perhaps the following story about a loveable, big-eared elephant will speak to you, too...


Ishvarapranidhana: When elephants fly

Yoga is about transformation. In yoga philosophy, the five Niyamas, or "self-restrictions", teach us how we can prepare ourselves to receive this transformation, to become the change in our lives. By cleansing our bodies and our environment (saucha), we get rid of what is unhealthy, making space for positive growth. By accepting ourselves as we are and feeling gratitude for all our blessings (santosha), we are able to appreciate even the smallest transformations in our lives as a gift. By being disciplined and putting in effort (tapas), we turn wasted energy into the fire of transformation. By studying ourselves (svadhyaya), we strip away the ego and allow our True Self to manifest.

The final Niyama is "Ishvarapranidhana", or "devotion to God". It is a concept that I have struggled with, not being, or ever having been, of any religious creed. So for those of you who may also struggle to untangle this concept, I offer you the story of Dumbo. Yes, Dumbo - the baby elephant with the enormous ears.

Because of his huge ears, Dumbo is a social outcast. When his mother tries to protect him from a judgmental mob, she is imprisoned as a mad elephant. The people who run the circus make him an object of ridicule, dressing him as a clown and forcing him to fall from a high platform into a vat of pie filling. But then, Dumbo is given a magic feather and told it will make him fly. Desperate to change his situation and get his mother released, Dumbo grabs the feather and flaps his ears. And sure enough, he flies!

The next night he takes the magic feather to his act, but at the last minute he loses it. As he plummets down, Dumbo finds out that the feather has no magic at all, and, finally believing in himself, he opens his ears and soars through the air. The audience is thrilled, the circus loves him, and his mother is freed.

The moral of the story is that the feather never had any magic powers - it was the power of Dumbo's belief that allowed him to go beyond the limitations he was stuck in, and perform miracles.

Ishvarapranidhana, then, for me, is not about devotion to God, but about devotion to the Self. It teaches us that if we believe in transformation, it will happen, if we open our minds to the possibility of new patterns, we can manifest them. If we have faith in ourselves, walls can crumble, barriers can come down, and we can be free.  If we devote ourselves to the process of change, then miracles can happen and yes, even elephants can fly.

Readers, how do you interpret Ishvarapranidhana in your yoga practice?

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A very interesting thing happened to me after practice this morning. After savasana, I got up from my Mysore rug, and was floating around the house in my post-practice lightness/glow. I really love that post-practice almost-unbearable lightness of being. For me, this almost-unbearable lightness typically lasts for about 20 to 30 minutes. After I take a shower, the lightness mellows somewhat, to be replaced by a feeling of contentment. And then I step into the hustle and bustle of the "real" world. And then the dust--both physical and mental--of the "real" world settles over this feeling of lightness-contentment, and the rest of the day becomes a battle to retain and remember this feeling as much as I can.

But I digress. As I was saying, after practice this morning, I was moving around in my post-practice lightness/glow. While I was enveloped in this glow, my fiancee came up to me, and asked me what my plans were. I replied that I was going to take a shower, and then go downstairs to the coffeeshop to have an espresso (I have my own special interpretation of Sharath's famous "No Coffee, No Prana" dictum: For me, this means that if you practice and then drink coffee, the ability of the caffeine to circulate prana throughout the system is greatly enhanced. But I understand that many Ashtangis--and probably Sharath himself too--differ. But it's okay. Whatever works for you :-)...).

And then my fiancee said, "How about vacuuming the house?" I smiled sheepishly, hemmed and hawed a little, and then... I agreed! Now this may not strike you as anything out of the ordinary or even interesting. After all, Saucha (cleanliness) is one of the niyamas. So cleaning the house ought to be something that comes naturally to an Ashtangi, right? Well, yes, probably. Except that I have always disliked cleaning, and basically try to get away with cleaning as little as possible. Which means I probably don't score very high in the Saucha department... actually, here's an idea: Maybe this is something that Yoga Teacher Training Programs out there can implement. You know, have the teacher trainees live in some kind of residential setting for a certain period of time, and have the trainer rate each trainee on how he or she performs in each of the yamas and niyamas. But then how would you assess somebody's performance in Brahmacharya? Maybe have a fairly attractive fellow trainee of the opposite sex (or same sex, if the trainee is homosexual) parade naked in front of the trainee who is being assessed, and see how well he or she holds up under temptation? But then the stakes are probably too high here; who would want to volunteer himself or herself to be the "temptation"? And this is probably sexual harassment, anyway; the studio or yoga school holding the training will probably get their pants sued off (talk about Brahmacharya...) and be forced to shut down.

But I didn't mean to go on this tangent about Brahmacharya. Can't seem to keep my thoughts straight today. As I was saying, I've always disliked cleaning, and probably don't score high in the saucha department. But my fiancee picked the right time to ask me to clean; if she had asked me later in the day, I probably would have found some excuse or other and put it off indefinitely. But, as things stood, she asked me when I was in that post-practice blissed-out state, when the reading on my Asshole-meter is at its daily lowest. What Asshole-meter? You may be thinking. Well, some years ago, at a workshop in Florida, David Williams said something along these lines, "Everyday, you get on your mat and do whatever practice you can do. And then you go into savasana. When you come out of savasana, you are in this blissed-out state. Today, you may be able to stay in this state for 10 minutes after savasana. And then you go back to being the asshole you are. Maybe tomorrow you will be able to stay in this state for 11 minutes before lapsing back into being an asshole. And so and so forth."

These weren't the exact words that Williams used. But I think they are pretty close; I'm very sure he actually used the word "asshole." The idea is that, over a period of time (10 years, 20 years, maybe one lifetime, or even two) of consistent practice, the amount of time in the day when you are blissed out will slowly equal and maybe even surpass the amount of time you are an asshole. Finally, you will get to the state when your "asshole time" is very short, even negligible to the point of being, for all intents and purposes, non-existent. And maybe this is when you will finally achieve Self-realization. I don't know for sure, but I think this is the idea.

But all this is just me. Maybe none of this really applies to you. Perhaps you love cleaning and score very high in the Saucha department. If so, more power to you, and please ignore everything I've said above. But maybe you will still find all this entertaining, in some way, in which case you would still have gotten something good out of reading all this. :-)

In other news: Several Ashtanga bloggers have written a few wonderful posts on how to start an Ashtanga practice (at home or at a shala): Check out these posts by Grimmly, Maya Lassiter, and New York Yogini. Maybe I will also write a post about this in the next couple of days: I'm too blogged out right now, and also have a few other things to get done today.

Speaking of home practice... As you will know if you read this blog regularly, I practice mostly at home. Sometime last year, a studio near my home started a once-a-week Mysore program on Saturdays. For a while, it was quite well-attended. I also attended whenever I could (see this post). But since the beginning of the summer, the owners of the studio have suspended the Mysore program due to personal things going on in their lives. And as far as I can see, there are no plans to restart the program.

None of this really affects me; I still happily do my daily home practice. But in some corner of my mind, I feel this urge to do something to get some semblance of the Ashtanga flame burning again in my part of the world. And recently, a friend also remarked to me half in jest, "What good is having a beautiful practice if you don't do anything with it?" Hmm... are you supposed to do anything with a beautiful practice? But maybe he has a point. And besides, as I mentioned, I do feel this urge to contribute in some tangible way to spreading the Ashtanga practice, beyond blogging about it.

But due to my present circumstances, actually starting an official Mysore program myself is not feasible. I live in an apartment, which means opening my house is not an option, as there simply isn't enough space. My finances are limited now, which makes renting a space unfeasible. And besides, I am also trying to devote more time to getting more research done, with the aim of eventually landing that thing called a tenure-track position. All of which makes taking extra time out beyond my daily practice to teach not a very viable option.

I have toyed with some ideas here and there. For instance, I have thought about going out to a park nearby on some mornings to do my practice, and maybe, in this way, attracting interest in the practice in an organic fashion and teaching whoever wants to learn it. But I wonder if people will just look at me and think I'm some kind of a Chinese Yogic Freakshow ("Welcome! Welcome to the one and only Chinese Yoga Freakshow in the Upper Midwest! Featuring the One and Only Ashtanga Fundamentalist in these parts..."), and then just walk on. Then again, maybe this is what David Swenson and his brother Doug had to contend with in their early yoga days, when they practiced in a park in Texas...

Anyway, I'm just thinking aloud here. If you have any thoughts and/or suggestions, I'll love to hear them.

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I usually don't weigh in on the heavy yoga debates, and I'm not about to start now. I have the curse of always being able to see both sides of an issue. But this article about how a woman quit yoga after an injury has been making the rounds and caught my attention.

A few bloggers have criticised the author of the article for quitting, but personally, I don't see that as an issue. Yoga is a personal practice, not a panacea. It's not right for everyone and not everyone will like it. Some people will quit.  So what? The author of the article made her choice, learned something about herself in the process, and found a physical practice that she thought suited her better. It sounds like a happy ending to me.

The issue that I have is that this woman was medically diagnosed with high blood pressure and was not aware, or made aware, of the potential impacts, or told that she shouldn't be doing inversions, especially not intense inversions like headstand and handstand.  The resulting injury she suffered led her to quit yoga, rather than to quit inversions - which is her personal choice and it's really not my place to judge, opine, or argue with that. It's a free world, as they say.

From my perspective, reacting to tales of yoga injuries by denying them, defending yoga, or attacking the injured person or their teacher is not a constructive response. Yoga-asana is a physical discipline and the possibility of injury is always there. Find me one yoga practitioner who has never felt the twinge of over-stretching a muscle, fallen over while attempting a balancing pose, received a bad adjustment, or simply wound up feeling dizzy or nauseous while practicing. I think it's our responsibility to acknowledge that the risks are there and to do our best to become safe and knowledgeable practitioners and teachers. We need to remember that the principles of Ahimsa (non-harming), Aparigraha (non-grasping), and Satya (being truthful), among others, are more important to a yoga practice, or teaching yoga, than the asanas.

Being a pragmatist, I have tried to draw out some lessons from this story, and here are a few that I can think of.

1. If you have a medical condition, discuss it with your doctor and your yoga teacher, and do your own research, so that you can make safe choices - and then make them! (Ahimsa!) Don't make the mistake that this woman made, of keeping silent about her new medical condition and finding out the hard way what the consequences were. If neither of them know what to tell you, find a new doctor or a new teacher! And of course, do the research yourself - including drawing on your personal practice - so that you can make safe choices. Everyone is different - it's ok to explore and test your boundaries and find out where your personal limits are - but don't ignore them (Aparigraha - let go!).

2. If you are a teacher, know your contra-indications and always state them. (Satya!) In the reality of teaching large-group classes, we can't always know the medical histories of each and every one of our students. But we can take 10 seconds to make sure we talk about the contra-indications of the classes we are teaching and the poses we are instructing.  Especially with "higher-risk" poses like inversions. [I say higher risk because in a person with untreated high blood pressure, holding a long inversion could potentially lead to serious medical complications, possibly even a stroke. And that deserves to be taken seriously.]

• Because students often come in late, what I have found best is to make a short announcement after the opening meditation or when I bring the class to standing for the first time. I talk about the level of the class, and if it's a physically demanding class (as I usually teach), I warn people that it might not be appropriate if they are pregnant, or have medical conditions or injuries. 
• When I talk about contra-indications, I often say "please". As in, "were going to do shoulderstand now, but if you have high blood pressure, please don't go into this pose straight away - just relax until I can come around to you".

This also means learning about conditions that might affect your students as they age - more and more people are practicing or even starting yoga in their golden years, and it's worth the extra study to find out about osteopenia/osteoporosis, high blood pressure or Type II diabetes, for example.
 

3. If you are a teacher, create a safe space, and actively encourage people to acknowledge their bodies' limitations and explore alternatives.  This doesn't mean you can, or should, force people to stay within artificially drawn boundaries. But you should be able to set the foundation for your students to make informed choices, and create an atmosphere where nobody feels pressured to go too far. (Ahimsa again!)

I'd love your comments and thoughts... Readers, from your experience, what would you add to these suggestions?

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