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If you practice Ashtanga, you will know that there are two major obstacles that we commonly have to overcome in order to have a wonderful practice. The first is getting out of bed (for tips on how to overcome the soft seductiveness of your bed on mornings when you just don't feel like getting up, see Angela Jamison's recent post). The second is what I call pre-practice doubt. This doubt often arises from certain physical sensations that we may have, or certain emotions that we may be feeling just when we are rolling out the mat. Common examples include: "I'm feeling a little down/angsty today, and I have, like, a million things to do today... maybe I'll skip practice today", "There is this funny sensation in my lower back. I think doing Surya Namaskars today might just be the straw that breaks this camel's back. Better skip practice today..." You get the idea. There is something very funny about that moment just before we step on the mat: It seems that every possible doubt, every possible reason we could have for not doing the practice surfaces at that precise moment. Wonder why? The simple answer, I guess, is that we are mere mortals who are trying very, very hard everyday to do this crazy practice that seems almost superhuman at times.

But there's hope for us mortals. I just read this very refreshing post by Sarah Hatcher, in which she shares a wonderful solution to pre-practice doubt: Invite your teacher to join you! Sarah writes:

"I too have my own struggles with my practice, yet with dedicated, concentrated, and uninterrupted effort and with devotion, this tears through much of my doubts and struggles... To turn the shakti fire back on, I used chanting to get me focused which set me back on track.

Invite Guruji into the room before you do your practice. And once you have chanted, "Vande gurunam..." and you know he is there, invite other teachers who have inspired you into the room as well. This will create a safe environment where you know you are cared for and not alone. Then it is not just you practicing, it is with them and under their guidance."

Very nicely said. Sarah puts into words what I have been feeling a lot whenever I do the opening chant, but haven't quite been able to put into words myself. I have always felt keenly that doing the opening invocation is a way to set a powerful intention for the practice, to remind ourselves that the practice is not just physical exercise, that the practice is really a practice that connects us to something greater than our intellects and egos. Sarah's words above bring out another dimension to the role of the opening invocation; as she puts it, the opening invocation is literally an act of invocation in which we honor and invoke the presence of Guruji and all the teachers that have helped us embark on this wonderful path of practice, so that with every practice, we are surrounded and protected by their wonderful supportive energies. 

Speaking of the practice being spiritual and more than just physical exercise, I can't help thinking about the Encinitas-School-District-Jois-Yoga-parents-concerned-about-Hindu-indoctrination controversy. My apologies for the long referent here; I just can't seem to find a way to refer to the whole thing that isn't overly sensational or that does not prejudice one party against another (I thought about variously calling it "The Great Encinitas Yoga Debacle", "The Great Jois Yoga Debacle", or better yet, "EncinitasGate", but all this just sounded too sensational; remember, I'm not a journalist who's trying to sell a story...). 

In any case, the Confluence Countdown, our de facto provider of all breaking Ashtanga news, has done a really wonderful job of covering the entire controversy in a lot of detail, so I won't rehearse the latest developments here. I just have two things to say about this whole thing: 

(1) It appears that there is a lot of talking past each other on the part of all the parties concerned. The aggrieved parents charge that Jois Yoga/the school district is indoctrinating their children in Hinduism. Jois Yoga and, more recently, the Universal Society of Hinduism (which has also jumped into the fray) respond to these charges by saying things like, "But yoga is good for your health! It helps with obesity, diabetes, high cholesterol, and all that bad stuff that sedentary modern living does to our bodies."

Now, do these people think the parents are stupid (or--to use a word I've seen somewhere--idiots)? I mean, I'm pretty sure that these parents know that the physical aspects of yoga, like many other physical activities, can help with various health conditions. These parents, as we know, are concerned with the issue of the spiritual/religious aspect of yoga. More specifically, they are concerned that Jois Yoga/the school district have overstepped the Church/state boundary, and are indoctrinating their kids in Hinduism. And yet as far as I can see, neither Jois Yoga nor the Universal Society of Hinduism have done or said anything to address this issue. Or is their silence on this issue an implicit admission of guilt? Are they basically sidestepping the issue by harping on the physical benefits of yoga? 

Well, I don't have any answers here. But I can certainly see why these parents are pissed. I would be too, if I keep asking a particular question, and keep getting answers to a different set of questions.Oh well, but what to do? In this funny land of America, it seems to be common practice for politicians and public figures to avoid answering questions by deliberately talking past each other. Maybe this is what they teach politicians and public figures in Political Survival 101... who knows? 

(2) We keep talking about the spiritual and religious aspects of yoga as if they are one and the same thing. But are the spiritual and religious aspects of yoga really one and the same thing? I consider my practice to be spiritual in nature (I do the opening and closing invocations, I refer to the postures in Sanskrit, I see the practice as (hopefully) bringing me to a place that is beyond my ego and intellect, etc., etc.), but I haven't become a Hindu (at least, I think I haven't) just because I see my practice in this spiritual way. 

In any case, I really do believe that one can participate in something in a spiritually engaging way without being a part of the religious tradition from which that thing arises. As an example, consider works in Classical or Baroque music. Many of the works of Bach, for example, were originally commissioned and composed to be played or sung during church functions, and Beethoven's "Ode to Joy" contains clear references to God. But most people today, I take it, would have no problem with accepting that we can enjoy, perform, and be profoundly moved by these pieces of music without having any particular religious beliefs. And if being profoundly moved by a piece of music is not a spiritual experience, well, I don't know what is. 

In a similar manner, perhaps we can also see doing the Ashtanga practice as being akin to playing a piece of music (actually, PJ Heffernan once used precisely this analogy to explain the practice to a group of beginners at the beginning of led primary). The primary series (or any other series, for that matter) can be seen to be a song which is composed of individual "notes" (the individual postures). And the vinyasa count is like the musical notation which tells you how long to sustain each note. And just as musicians often feel the spiritually transformative effects of the music they are playing even if they themselves have no particular religious beliefs, in the same way, Ashtanga practitioners also feel the spiritually transformative effects of the practice that is linked together by the vinyasa count and which opens and closes with the opening and closing invocations, even if they themselves have no particular religious beliefs.

In this way, Ashtanga, like music, is spiritual without being religious. Now I'm probably being very immodest here, but I really can't help wondering: If the Jois Yoga Foundation had conducted an information/dialogue session with the parents before implementing their yoga program in the school district, and had explained why yoga is spiritual but not religious in the way I described above, would things have turned out differently? I really don't know... I like to think they would have, but I'm also not inclined to be optimistic about this, with so many people being as emotional and set in their own views as they often are today, and with the prevailing anti-intellectualist climate in this country today ("Who has time for your fancy scholarly distinction between the spiritual and the religious? Besides, how do we know the spiritual isn't just a "gateway drug" to the religious? You know, start the kids out with yoga or Hinduism Lite, and then slowly bring them into more and more hardcore Hindu stuff; by the end of the year, they'll all be performing pujas to that elephant god, like any good Hindu...").

Hmm... I really don't know how to end this post, so I guess I'll just end here. (Moral of the story: If you don't know how to end a post, simply stop writing. Right now.) As always, if you have anything to say, I'll love to hear your thoughts on this.              

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This morning, I did full primary to Sharath's led primary CD. Sharath's led, as many of you know, is done in strict accordance with the traditional long vinyasa count; which means that in Supta Pangusthasana, for instance, he counts all the way up to Chatur-vimsatihi (twenty-four), and he gets through the whole of primary in a brisk 65 minutes.

This morning was the first time I had done Sharath's led in more than a year. After I injured my left knee around this time last year, I didn't dare to do Sharath's led again for a long time. For one, I didn't think my knee would appreciate trying to get into lotus or half-lotus in one or less vinyasa count in the state it was in; of course, I could have modified and did all that good stuff, but I figured that I might do better modifying while not going in strict accordance with the vinyasa count, to give my knee a little more space and time to heal.

But this morning, I finally mustered the courage to take Sharath's led CD out of its place in the cabinet and put it into my computer. I was a bit nervous, and told myself I'd do my best to keep up with the count, and maybe modify here and there if necessary.

It turned out that no modification was necessary at all. I think that over the last year of healing, my body/mind had somehow found a way to open and engage the necessary muscles while getting into lotus or half-lotus, so that this morning, I found that I could get into half-lotus in all the relevant postures without feeling like I was pushing or rushing myself into them, and still somehow keep to Sharath's count. I also tried out my floating techniques in Suryas A and B, with very interesting results. It turns out that if I lift my feet off the ground in Trini first before floating back into Chatvari, I actually have to stay suspended in that position with my feet off the ground for an entire breath while waiting for Sharath to call out "Chatvari" (duh...). Now, a full breath might not seem a long time, but it kind of is if you are really engaging your bandhas to generate the lift necessary to keep your feet off the ground.

But there is an upside to this as well. While lifting off (and staying lifted) in trini position may seem like a lot of work from an observer's point of view, from my point of view, engaging the bandhas so intensely so early in the practice actually sets a good rhythm of moving from the center for the rest of the practice. As a result of this early bandha engagement, the rest of the practice comes quite a bit more easily even at Sharath's pace, because it becomes easier to keep the bandhas engaged and to continue moving from the center once you start doing so from the very beginning.

Still, not having done full primary to the strict vinyasa count for such a long time, there were a couple of things that threw me off for a loop. For instance, in Marichyasana C and D, I forgot that according to the traditional count, you are supposed to get into the posture immediately after you jump your legs through in Supta, whereas in almost all the other postures, Supta is when you jump through into the posture, and then you have Ashtau to try to get your legs and hands snugly into whatever position they need to be in before Sharath starts counting. Come to think of it, I don't think I have ever been able to get into the bind in Mari D on the Supta count; I always need an extra breath to get the bind. Which means that by the time I am actually in the posture, Sharath has already counted "one". And in my experience, different teachers kind of find different ways to deal with the strictness of the vinyasa count. For instance, the few times I have done led primary with Kino, she always kind of fudges the vinyasa count a little when it comes to Mari D, and gives you an extra breath or two to get into the posture before she starts counting. I know a couple of other teachers out there who do this too. But Sharath is Sharath: He is the lineage-keeper, so he has to be strict about the count, even in Mari D; whether or not I can keep up with him is well, my problem.

But all in all, Mari C and D aside (actually, even these two postures were wonderful... so what if I can't bind Mari D within the Supta count?), the rest of the practice was very refreshing and brisk, like a double-shot espresso. When I first started doing full primary to Sharath's count a couple of years ago, I always felt really winded at the end of the practice. This morning, a couple of years later, I was still a little short of breath after Uplutih, but there was also this general feeling of being refreshed and recharged, just like the sort of feeling one gets after downing a double shot of espresso. I think the single biggest difference was the fact that I had engaged the bandhas more and moved more from the center from the beginning of practice. Ha! This gives a new twist to Sharath's famous saying: "Got bandha, no need for coffee!"

So all in all, even though I didn't make it to Mysore this year, I like to think that if and when I do, I'll be a little more comfortable doing led primary with Sharath :-)

There is another interesting thing about doing led primary with Sharath. At the beginning and end of practice, he doesn't just do the opening and closing invocations. Before practice, he also does this invocation honoring the guru (can' t remember how it goes) before launching into the opening mantra. At the end of practice, after the closing mantra, he also chants "Sahanah Vavatu" and this other chant to Ganesh (I also can't remember how exactly this goes; there is "Ganapati" in it). Which is very nice. I did whatever chants I could follow (the opening and closing mantra, and "Sahanah Vavatu"), and just listened along to the other chants that I didn't know.

All of this brings to mind this recent post by Steve over at the Confluence Countdown about the complaints launched by a group of parents against the Encinitas Union School District concerning the new yoga program launched recently in schools within the district as a result of a $533,000 grant from the Jois Foundation. Despite statements from district officials that there was no religion or religious indoctrination involved, seven district parents and a lawyer have insisted that the program pushed Hinduism on children and violated religious freedom.

Given that I wasn't actually present when the yoga classes for the children were conducted (duh!), I probably shouldn't be saying anything one way or the other about this situation here. But I'm going to, anyway, because I love sticking my head (and neck) into all things Ashtanga :-) This is what I think: If the teachers teaching the classes (who, I take it, are probably sponsored and affiliated with the Jois Foundation) were teaching it in the exact same way in which they would teach a regular led Ashtanga class at Jois Yoga or some other traditional shala (with the opening and closing chants, and all that good stuff), they would be crazy and naive not to expect any push back or resistance!

I know, this is Encinitas, but Encinitas is still in America, and America, as we know, is a place where people take the idea of separation of church and state (or in this case, separation of church and school district) very seriously. To get a sense of where I'm coming from, imagine this: Suppose a bunch of Kabbalah followers were to invent a series of exercises that they claim were very good for your mind and body. Let's call this system of exercises "Kabbashtanga." Suppose, further, that Kabbashtanga were to become the next big thing in the spirituality business, becoming even bigger than Ashtanga, because Madonna has now switched allegiances from Ashtanga, and has become the poster-girl for Kabbashtanga; presumably, she now has a Kabbashtanga body:

Now suppose the Kabbashatanga exercises also open and close with some obscure chants in some ancient Hebrew tongue that had long been lost; a group of senior Kabbashtanga teachers claim that this tongue was revealed to them in a collective vision as a result of their dedication to the Kabbashtanga practice. They require everybody to do these chants at the beginning and end of every practice, in order to honor the spirit and tradition of Kabbashtanga. However, they also claim that doing these chants is not religious, and does not mean that you are converting to Kabbalah. It's just, well, honoring tradition.

Now suppose you live in Encinitas (or anywhere in the United States, for that matter). Your child is enrolled in the local school district, which has started a Kabbashtanga program as a result of a generous grant from Madonna and her fellow Kabbashtanga enthusiasts. Would you feel secure that the doctrine of the separation of church and school district has not been breached? I don't know, maybe you would; maybe you are one of those very open-minded people who are perpetually generous of spirit and mind, and who is willing to put your faith in the good sense of the school district officials. But surely we cannot expect every single parent to have this same attitude; surely it would be understandable if at least a few parents were to become a little suspicious and uneasy that Kabbalah may have been force-fed to their children...

I'm guessing you can see the parallel here with the Ashtanga program in Encinitas. Like you, I know that yoga is not a religion, and that chanting the opening and closing chants does not turn one into a Hindu (is Hinduism even a religion, in the first place? Well, I can't go into this here; this would be too much of a digression...). I have also had my share of frustrations with getting people to do the opening and closing invocations in the practice (see, for instance, this post). But let's face it. We live in this funny land called America. And in America, if you try to get people to chant something which is not in English in a secular setting (which, I'm almost certain, is what transpired in that yoga program in Encinitas) and which, to add insult to injury, translates into something along the lines of prostrating to a serpent with a thousand white heads, I'll be damned if you don't get any resistance. In fact, I'm actually a little surprised that only seven parents complained.

So what to do? In the grand tradition of offering unsolicited advice that this blog has increasingly become known for, let me suggest this: When in Rome (or in America), do as the Romans (or Americans) do. Or more to the point: "Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's" (Matthew 22:21)

Why am I quoting the bible here? Well, replace "Caesar" with "the state", and "God" with "Ashtanga" (even though Ashtanga is not a religion), and you will see my point. If making a few changes and removing a couple of things (like, for example, Sanskrit chants about a serpent with a thousand white heads) makes Ashtanga a little more accessible and palatable to people in a secular setting and avoids unnecessary conflict, why not do it? If these people then want the "full" Ashtanga experience, they can then go on to take classes at a traditional shala, and maybe listen to Elder Miller expound further on thousand-headed serpents and that funny little snake that lies sleeping at the base of the spine, waiting to be awakened by our wonderful practices. This way, everybody wins. What's not to love about it? 

Well, I guess I should sign off now. When I start quoting the bible on a Saturday afternoon, I know I've gotten into a serious sermonizing mood. And who wants to hear anybody (even an Ashtanga Fundamentalist) go on and on like this on a beautiful Saturday afternoon? So I'll leave you with these thoughts. If you have anything to say, I'll love to hear from you, as always.             

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