Over the last few days, I have been playing and experimenting with some of the finer points of floating in the Surya Namaskaras. If you are not familiar with floating, here's a short video (complete with very powerful drumbeat) of David Robson demonstrating this technique:
Not to brag or anything, but I have actually been floating more or less successfully for the last year or so. What I've been working on over the last couple of weeks is to achieve that little movement where I hover with my legs more or less straight, with my feet hovering a couple of inches above the ground, just before I touch down in Uttanasana. If you need a visual of what I'm talking about, here's the Patron Saint of Home Ashtangis demonstrating this finer point of Surya Namaskara:
Over the last week, I would say that I have been getting the hover about 7 or 8 times out of every 10 times I do the Surya Namaskaras. To be sure, there is something very aesthetically pleasing (not to mention ego-boosting) about being able to float and hover. The very first time I saw somebody float and hover was as a neophyte yoga teacher at the campus gym in Florida, where I went to grad school (for more details about my brief tenure as a yoga-teaching charlatan, see this post). One of my fellow yoga teachers at the time was this spindly guy who could float and hover effortlessly in Surya Namaskar "as if angels were lifting and moving his legs", as his girlfriend at the time would put it. And while I wasn't quite as devotionally awestruck by his floating abilities as his girlfriend was, I nevertheless couldn't help comparing it to my rather heavy-limbed movements in Surya Namaskar, and longing wistfully for the day when I myself would be able to float and hover so effortlessly, with or without angelic support.
Well, I am happy to report that I am finally getting closer to that day, after all these years. But being able to float/hover isn't just about looking good or boosting one's ego. Being able to move so lightly demands refined control of the bandhas, breath and movement (in other words, the tristana, minus the drishti). Thus, I believe that the ability to float/hover is something that comes more or less naturally and organically as one attains more control and refinement in one's practice. So much so, that after a while, floating and hovering actually becomes easier than just flopping and throwing one's limbs around in the Suryas--or in the rest of the practice, for that matter.
Besides floating and hovering, I've also been experimenting with the straight-legged jump-through (SLJT). As I've mentioned a couple of years ago, I've more or less settled into jumping through with cross-legs (CLJT) over the last couple of years. I think Sharath said somewhere that he always does CLJT, because that's the only way he's been taught. And I figured that if CLJT is good enough for Sharath, it's good enough for me. Case closed.
But nevertheless, over the last few weeks, I've gotten curious about life on the SLJT side of the fence. What would it be like to be able to SLJT with perfect control? Well, here's Kino's model demonstrating this:
As Kino points out at the beginning of the video, it is neither correct nor incorrect to jump through with straight legs or crossed legs: The important thing is to make it to the finish line, one way or the other. But I still can't help being curious about what life is like "on the other side". And besides, I was also thinking to myself: Now that I am finally getting close to being able to hover, surely some of that hovering ability would translate to being able to SLJT with better control (as opposed to the "sliding into base" kind of SLJT)? So during practice yesterday, I gave the SLJT a shot during the one of the first couple of postures in primary series. I bent my knees in downdog, took off... and landed on my feet! And then I had to awkwardly make myself sit down. It turns out that my body has been doing CLJT for so long, that the only way it knows how to jump forward with straight legs is to land in standing/Uttanasana!
Oh well, maybe I'll have to find a way to "reprogram" my body/mind if I want to switch over to SLJT. Or maybe I'll just stick with CLJT. No harm done, one way or the other.
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On a different note, I'm presently in the process of putting together a Skype interview with alt-rock musician and fellow Nichiren Buddhist Ife Sanchez Mora. You know, the kind of Skype interview where both our faces appear side-by-side on screen as you watch the interview? I don't usually do interviews on this blog (the only person I've interviewed so far is Kino), but Ife, who also practices Bikram yoga, is a person who is so full of life and passion for her art, that I think it can only be a good thing to share her work here on this blog. To give you a taste of her work, here's a music video from her recently released album:
Pretty freaking awesome, wouldn't you say?
But there's a slight problem here: I have never done a Skype interview, nor do I have any experience with posting it on my blog (obviously). I know, I'm a bit deficient technology-wise. But I also know that at least some of you out there have experience with doing and posting Skype interviews. If you do, and wouldn't mind giving me some technical assistance in this area, please get in touch with me; you can find my email in the "Greetings" section of this blog, in the top-right-hand corner. I won't have much to offer you in the way of material reward, but you will at least have my eternal, eternal gratitude and over-whelming respect. So yeah, do give this a thought, if you happen to possess the requisite expertise.
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Especially when it comes to the Ashtanga practice. During yesterday afternoon's session here at Randa's workshop, Randa gently informed me that I have been taking an extra breath to set up for jumping back after each posture in the primary series. For instance, in, say, Janu Sirsasana A, I would let go of my foot after the five breaths in the posture, and extend my legs into Dandasana before I lift up to jump back. For more details about what I'm saying, see my, ahem, famous primary series practice video below:
Well, according to Randa (and according to Guruji and Lino, according to Randa), this is not supposed to happen. You are supposed to stay in the pose when Sharath (or whoever) tells you to inhale and exhale there. Then when he says "up", you simply lift up while still in the asana, and then jump back into chatvari position. In other words, the whole straightening the legs into dandasana thing, while a nice strengthening posture and fancy to look at and shit, is not necessary (and also possibly not "correct method", if you are the Ashtanga police :-)).
Well, I find this a bit hard to accept, probably because I have been doing this dandasana lifting thing for, like, forever, and find it a bit hard to let go of. But I'll see what I can do. Speaking of which, morning mysore is coming up in a few minutes here at the workshop's last session. We'll see how my attempt at no-lifting-up-in-dandasana goes. Will keep you posted on this :-)
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I just watched the above video in which Kino responds to a student's question about how to achieve a floaty practice. As I understand it, the student has been practicing for three months, and wants to know if three months is enough to achieve such floatiness.
Kino's answer, in a nutshell, is: In Ashtanga yoga, there is no fixed amount of time that is needed to achieve anything. Some people take longer, while for others "achievements" like being able to jump back or lift up into a handstand come relatively quickly. The key is to keep working on the practice with patience, persistence, dedication, and an attitude of surrender, and things will happen when they do; whether they happen sooner or later, they happen when they happen.
I have written quite a bit about floating and jumping through and back (see, for instance, this post). I agree with Kino: You just have to keep working on it, and it will happen when it happens. I might also add that it really helps to have a playful attitude towards the whole thing: Try to have fun trying, and it will make the whole journey lighter and quite possibly, more fulfilling and less angst-inducing.
But in a way, this might be easier said than done. I may be speaking only for myself, but I have the feeling that many Ashtangis have a "Holy Grail" posture on their practice horizons: Basically, this is the "Wow, how can any human being possibly do this" posture that first got you intrigued about Ashtanga, enough to start the practice and begin the journey down the waking-up-at-stupid-o'clock-to-do-funny-things-to-your-body road that many practitioners (including myself) find themselves traveling almost without their being aware of it. What the Holy Grail posture is varies for different individual practitioners: For Kino (and probably many others), it appears to be having the ability to jump back and also to lift up into handstand.
My Holy Grail posture happens to be tic-tocs. At least, I think that's what it's called: You know, the one where you drop back into a backbend, kick up into a handstand from there, and then drop down into downward facing dog. And then reverse the process from there. Come to think of it, I've had a fascination with backflips since I was a kid. But as a kid, I lacked the proper training to be able to execute a backflip. And then I got into my teens, started practicing Tae-Kwon-Do, and wasted a few good years doing high kicks and trying to kick other people's faces without getting my own kicked... Anyway, to cut a very long story short, soon after I discovered yoga in grad school (see this post for the sordid details), I bought myself a copy of B.K.S. Iyengar's Light on Yoga. I flipped through the asana section of the book, saw those pictures of Mr. Iyengar doing tics-tocs (I think he calls it Viparita Chakrasana), and re-kindled my childhood fascination with backflips. I also found it really intriguing and cool that somebody in his forties (that's probably how old Mr. Iyengar was at the time he published the book) could actually do that. I remember thinking to myself: If what they say is true, that you are only as young as your spine is flexible, then yoga must be the freaking fountain of youth! I was sold on yoga from that point on, and started a daily practice immediately. I mean, think about it, the fountain of youth: Who doesn't want to be forever young?
So yeah, as you can see, my motives for starting yoga weren't exactly the noblest of motives. But really, we only have so many years on this planet, and whether we like it or not, gravity is pulling down on our bodies every single moment. We can let this gravity pull our bodies closer and closer to the earth with each passing year, resulting in sagging skin (and sagging everything else), brittling (is this even a verb?) bones, and atrophying muscles. Or we can find a way to work productively with gravity, slow down this atrophying process, and in the process, age a little more gracefully and, with some luck and a little bit of grace from whoever's or whatever's running this whole cosmic show, die a little less painfully. How is this an ignoble or bad thing?
Well, as usual, I see that I have seriously digressed from what I set out to say in the beginning. Before I got sidetracked by my own thoughts (talk about chitta vrtti), I meant to say something about how most Ashtangis probably have a Holy Grail posture or two on their practice horizon, and that because jumping through and back was never my Holy Grail posture, I wasn't particularly attached to nailing it either. It took me a couple of years of practice to be able to jump back, and when it happened, I was, like, "Wow, my body can do this? Nice." And then I just moved on. And if you must know, I still can't do tic-tocs (then again, I haven't really been trying that hard either). But it's okay; do your practice, and all is coming, no? :-)
Maybe I'll end this post with a few questions for you. Do you have a Holy Grail Posture or two on your practice horizon? Have you achieved it, or are getting closer to achieving it? If you are not, how do you feel about it? Please feel free to share. I'll love to hear from you.
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I just watched the following video of Kino teaching the jumpthrough to all levels of practitioners at her ongoing workshop in Koh Samui, Thailand. I think this video really speaks to her ability to break down and teach what is probably the single most ubiquitous (and perhaps, to some, also the most intimidating) move in Ashtanga Yoga to beginners in a way that is accessible and non-threatening. Enjoy!
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