our-yoga

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It's been almost a month since the conclusion of the Encinitas yoga trial. As most of you know, the judge in that trial ruled that there is nothing unconstitutional about teaching yoga in schools; yoga, Judge John Meyer said, "is similar to other exercise programs like dodgeball." Therefore, yoga has nothing to do with religion or spirituality. Therefore, the teaching of yoga in schools does not violate separation of church and state. Therefore, children can go ahead and enjoy yoga in schools without fear of spiritual or religious indoctrination. Yay.

But things are a bit more complicated than that, as most of you know. Many thoughtful observers of this trial have concluded that this verdict represents a Pyrrhic victory; Carol Horton, for instance, has written a very thoughtful post on the implications of such a victory. The victory is Pyrrhic, because while the court has ruled that yoga may be taught in schools (which is great), it has also, by characterizing yoga as being no different from something like dodgeball (along with all the unhappy memories of grade school P.E. classes that this word brings up for those of us who were not-so-socially-well-adjusted non-jocks), thrown out the yogic baby with the bathwater (which is not so great). Yoga, as most of us who have had any exposure to it will attest, is anything but non-spiritual: I suspect that even casual yoga "users" who only attend one yoga class a week at their local gym or health club will readily attest that yoga is more than just stretching (or dodgeball). To simply say that yoga is just stretching (or dodgeball), then, is to seriously misrepresent what yoga is about.

But with the legal-political culture of this country being what it is today, the only way to make yoga kosher within the legal structure is to characterize it as a spirituality-free and all-religion-friendly exercise/stress-reduction modality (this blog, incidentally, has also been lauded as a Transcendental Site for Stress Reduction. I'm still not sure what the "transcendent" means here... but anyway.). The only other alternative, it seems, would be to admit that yoga is spiritual. And therefore religious, according to Candy Gunther Brown. And therefore in violation of separation of church and state.

Something has gone very wrong somewhere. But what exactly? Well, for starters, we get the sense that this kind of (falsely) dichotomistic thinking ("Yoga is either only exercise, or it is spiritual and therefore a religion") fails to do any justice to the richness and complexity of lived yoga experience. I could be wrong here, but I'm pretty sure that the average person who decides to start yoga at her local gym or yoga studio does not walk into her first yoga class thinking, "This yoga is ONLY exercise and stretching. If I should start feeling anything during or after class that cannot be reduced to or explained in terms of the effects of exercise, I'm going to stop doing yoga. Because I only signed up for exercise and stretching; I didn't sign up for any spiritual-religious indoctrination."

Hmm. Or maybe what all this means is that yoga studios need to start getting all new students to sign a spirituality waiver form before they start classes ("I, the undersigned, acknowledge that in doing yoga, I am willingly exposing myself to possible transformation that goes beyond and cannot be explained in purely physical terms. If said transformation occurs, I will accept full personal responsibility for it, and will not hold X Yoga Studio liable for said transformation or any effects thereof.").

But here's something else to think about: What is so bad about spirituality or spiritual transformation in the first place? Well, one might say that spirituality is "bad" because spirituality is religion, and the teaching of religion violates the separation of church and state; or, perhaps, violates the freedom of religious belief of the individual, in the case of the unsuspecting student who walks into a yoga studio or gym expecting to get only exercise, and gets more than what she signed up for.

Hmm... fair enough. But what if one cannot truly be a human being without first being a spiritual being of some sort? To be truly human (as opposed to being only biologically human) is, among other things, to recognize that all these other blobs of flesh and bone that I am surrounded by are persons of moral standing. And it seems to me that no amount of scientific analysis can explain why I should treat these blobs of flesh and bone in a way that accords with their moral standing as human beings: Why, for instance, I should not steal from this particular blob even if I am pretty sure I can get away with it, or why I shouldn't torture that particular blob even if doing so will give me great pleasure.         

So if we assume that the purpose of education isn't just to cram scientific and technical knowledge into students' brains, but to foster individuals who can function productively and constructively as human beings in human community and civilization, and if one cannot function in such a way without being a moral being who recognizes the moral standing of oneself and one's fellow human beings, and such recognition is ultimately a fundamental conviction that cannot be reduced to scientific terms, wouldn't this mean that cultivating a sense of spirituality, far from undermining the goal of education, is actually an important--arguably, the most important--ingredient to any process of education that is worth the name? And wouldn't this mean that cultivating a sense of spirituality that enables the student to recognize and respect the human-ness of everybody around her is (or should be) a key component of educational systems?

What does all this mean for the doctrine of separation of church and state, that doctrine which we Americans--no wait, you Americans (I've lived in this country for so long, I often forget I'm not a citizen)-- hold so dear? Well, it probably means that spirituality can and should be taught in schools, even if it violates the separation of church and state. After all, what is more important: Fostering true humans beings, or adhering to some abstract doctrine? But this is probably not going to fly. After all, what self-respecting parent would willingly risk exposing her kid to the dangers of Hindu indoctrination in the guise of spirituality cultivation?

But maybe there is another alternative, one that would, admittedly, require us to get outside the only-exercise/only-religion dichotomy box that the legal system has put us into. Maybe, just maybe, there is such a thing as non-denominational, religion-free spirituality? But to have this kind of spiritual, we--or any rate, the legal system--would have to accept that there is such a thing as spirituality that is not religious; we would have to accept that something can be spiritual without being religious. Are we ready for this?    

P.S. It just occurred to me that there is actually yet another alternative. Maybe exercise in itself is spiritual. Which means that dodgeball is spiritual. Come to think of it, there are probably important spiritual lessons to be learned from being terrorized by your more socially-well-adjusted grade-school peers during P.E.. Dodgeball as spirituality? Zen and the art of dodgeball maintenance? Somebody should write a book...   

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Lest I be accused of plagiarism, I want to come right out and say that the title of this post is directly lifted from a very enlightening and illuminating post of the same title that Sarah Hatcher (Durney) wrote on her blog earlier this year.

I will say more about Sarah's post in a little bit. But I want to begin by making a few totally useless sociological observations about the different ways in which this question can come up in polite (or not-so-polite) yoga society. Let's face it: Whether we like it or not, this "spirituality question," as I call it, is one that many of us Ashtangis will probably face at one time or another in the course of our lives if and when we venture out beyond the confines of the shala into the broader yoga world. Most often posed by detractors or skeptics of the Ashtanga practice, this question can come up in many ways in the course of yoga conversations. As such, I think it would be interesting to spend a little time here cataloguing a few of the ways in which this question can come up in conversations in the yoga world:

(1) It is sometimes posed directly to the Ashtangi in a curiously passive-aggressive kind of way. As in, "Oh, you practice Ashtanga. I hear that it is a very physically demanding practice that is practiced mostly by ex-gymnasts/ex-dancers/ex-whatevers. You must be so strong and fit to be able to do this..."  
Translation: "Since only ex-dancers/ex-gymnasts/ex-whatevers who are super-fit can do this practice,  and everybody else can't, it must not be for everybody. And since spirituality is for everybody, Ashtanga must therefore be a totally unspiritual practice..."

(2) But more often than not in our ever-so-polite and ever-so-politically-correct and pristine yoga world, the question comes up in a less direct form. For instance, you may encounter a yogi who practices another supposedly more "spiritual" style (I won't tell you what these supposedly more "spiritual" styles are...). Upon hearing that you practice Ashtanga, a knowing smile will appear on the face of said yogi, who will then say something along the lines of, "Oh, that's great. But I prefer to practice a gentler, less aggressive style. " Translation: "Unlike Ashtanga, which is so aggressive and therefore not spiritual, I practice a style that is way more spiritual than yours."    

(3) This often comes from people who know you well, like closed friends or loved ones. Because these are people who know you well (or at least think they do), the usual velvet gloves of polite conversation are taken off. In this manifestation, the question is usually posed in the following form: "How come you are still so X even though you do yoga everyday?", where "X" can be anything that your friend or loved one happens to observe about you which they dislike. Examples of "X" include: "hot-tempered", "rigid", "uncompassionate", "asshole-like", etc. Whether or not X happens to be true of you is, of course, another question entirely.
In any case, the translation here seems to be: "If you do this Ashtanga thing everyday, and you are still so X, then Ashtanga must not be helping you to become less X. But any spiritual practice should help you become less X. Therefore, Ashtanga must not be spiritual." 

Of course, (1), (2), and (3) by no means exhaust the many many ways in which this spirituality question can pop up. Do you know of any others?

As I mentioned earlier, Sarah has some very useful and illuminating things in response to this spirituality question, which are worth quoting at length. She writes:



It may appear to someone who does not practice ashtanga vinyasa yoga that it may not be a 'spiritual practice' since the practice appears asana-based.

Practicing six days a week with the foundational elements of ashtanga:

vinyasa (breath-movement system),
breath (ujjayai),
bandhas (internal locks),
drishti (gaze), and
dhyana (concentration)

is a GIANT SPIRITUAL INVOCATION because each foundational element brings the practitioner INSIDE themselves, closer to their deeper selves...

Often in the beginning, coming to a daily ashtanga practice isn't a 'spiritual' decision to start. When or how one's ashtanga practice becomes a 'spiritual' practice varies from person to person. It is each person's specific relationship to their practice which makes it special and unique. Some people focus on the Divine during their entire practice, others the breath. Some people count through their practice, some people use one foundational element the entire time - like a specific bandha. Some people use all the foundational elements the entire time! All of these are strong tools that the ashtanga practitioner uses to sustain a concentrated state during their practice...

Then, with the guidelines suggested by Patanjali, you will have a sadhana because your daily practice will turn into something much richer than just an asana practice. It will develop into something very 'spiritual' because you will have developed a relationship with yourself. This is worth all the effort to get to know, as this bond will bring you closer and closer to the Divine which always surrounds you."

Ashtanga, then, is a spiritual practice, even if it doesn't look that way from the outside. The outward, seemingly unspiritual elements of the practice (the asanas) are simply tools that one uses to go within oneself and forge a relationship to one's inner being. But there is one caveat here: Just because a practice is spiritual doesn't mean that everybody who does the practice is not an asshole. It may take a long time (or maybe not at all) for the practice to help one overcome one's own asshole nature (for more of my thoughts about this issue, see this post). But I prefer to look at it this way: If I am such an asshole even though I practice, imagine what I would be like if I didn't practice? 

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I just watched this video of a conversation between Geneen Roth and Eckhart Tolle that Claudia posted in her most recent blog post. A couple of things really struck me about this brief video:

(1) Roth remarked at the beginning that she had for many years made a subtle separation between spirituality and making money in her life ("spirituality is fine, and then... there's money"). She had for many years believed that it is not possible for her to become fully awakened, to become "fully alive to the aliveness" in this lifetime.

This is really interesting. I think many of us (well, maybe I can't speak for others... but this is at least true for myself) have this tendency (at least I do) to erect a separation between whatever it is that we do in our spiritual practices and the "rest of our lives." We do whatever it is that we do in our spiritual practices (yoga, meditation, whatever), and then we go out there and revert to being the assholes that we usually are. After all, we might say to ourselves, "The world is very harsh, you know. All this yoga/meditation/whatever is fine, but how can I get ahead if I am not assertive/asshole-like?"

Actually, if you think about it, this is precisely why difficulties in life and practice are so important: They serve as valuable teachers that really force us to make our practices "real", to bring our practices closer to the grimy reality of life as it is. For Roth, it was Bernie Madoff that came into her life as such a teacher. For the rest of us, it may be a crisis at work, some difficulties in our relationships with people close to us, or even an injury that happened within or outside the yoga practice. Anyway, all of these things, as sucky as they may seem in the beginning, are valuable for us, because they force us to pause and ask ourselves: Who am I? Am I just my life savings/my job/my favorite asana that has now been taken away by injury?

(2) Watching the video, I am also deeply struck by Eckhart Tolle's humble yet dignified bearing and his posture of sincerely listening to everything Roth has to say. Frankly, I don't know much about Tolle; for many years, listening to so many people rave about Tolle and The Power of Now, I really couldn't understand what the big deal was with this guy. Honestly, before I watched the video, I half-expected to see this self-important new-age guru spouting all kinds of feel-good platitudes.

But seeing Tolle's earnest attitude of sincere listening really bowed me over. I personally believe that you can learn a lot about the kind of person somebody is simply by observing how he listens to others. As Confucius would say, "The gentleman is exalted and yet not proud. The petty person is proud and yet not exalted." Along the same lines, the thirteenth-century Japanese priest Nichiren also says, "The purpose of the appearance in this world of Shakyamuni Buddha, the lord of teachings, lies in his behavior as a human being." Watching Tolle in this video, I really feel that Confucius' and Nichiren's words describe him perfectly.

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