Please Can I Have My Ruler Back?

Image by Locopelli

I have avoided, so far, commenting on the scandal-fire raging its way through the Anusara community these days.  I have avoided commenting because, a. I’m not a card-carrying member of the Anusara community, besides being a student of the style (as well as other styles), and a usurper of the alignment principles learned therein and b. because it involves real lives and real people and real vulnerable hearts.  

Some of my own teachers, who are themselves Anusara certified and have devoted their lives to the practice, have been left a bit broken by the whole thing.  And understandably.  When someone sets himself up as teacher, and beyond that, as leader of a spiritual community, it’s hard not to feel betrayed when you find out that said person has been…you know.  Diddling around.  In many senses of the word. And so, I want to be careful, because real people feel genuinely betrayed, and there is nothing simple or blog-digestable about betrayal.

This past Sunday I interviewed the inimitable SuzanneMorrison for the podcast (episode 7 is on its way!), she was in Los Angeles to do a reading from Yoga Bitch, and we spent a good deal of time while she was here, talking about the student/teacher relationship.

A major theme in YB is Suzanne’s hot-then-cold entanglement with her own then-teacher.  A woman she had set up as a paragon of wholeness, of yogic fix-ed-ness, who eventually (spoiler alert!) revealed herself to be…merely human.  And flawed and f’d up and messy, in the way that all humans are.  And it was a blow to 25 year old Suzanne.  Because f’d up and messy is what she thought SHE was supposed to be…not her beloved teacher.

And we talked about this—about how easy, how natural it is to project on to our teacher (or boss or partner or cooler-than-thou friend) whatever it is we want for ourselves.  How we need, sometimes, to have a person in our life who seems stain-free, so that from that person we can receive and imbibe unfettered guidance.  We need it because it is a great simplifier.  Find perfect person, do what perfect person says.  But, as soon as that person, that paragon—as soon as it’s revealed that maybe he or she is not making the best choices in his or her own life, that guidance…that treasured trail-marker, is going to get…sullied.

And we are left adrift.

It’s like what happens with parents.  As a child it seems like their advice, mom and dad’s advice, must be THE advice.  It must be THE way to go, because, come on…have you seen what they can do?  EVERYTHING, that’s what.  They are the whole big world—and the arbiter of its rules.  And then…as you get older…veils start to fall away.  You see one or the other of them act badly or choke in a big moment, or just reveal their own scared-ness, and it’s—it’s devastating.  Your measuring stick, the one you’ve been carrying around, the one given to you by them—you’ve just come to discover that the inches on it aren’t really inches at all.  They’re off.  The whole system, all the measurements you’ve been making—it’s all deeply, intrinsically, flawed.

And it’s a terrible moment, because for a while there you feel…stranded.  The ground has been taken out from underneath you and here you are, no way to figure how far you are from your destination.  But also, and we all know this now, because we’re all adults with lives and many of you with children of your own—also it’s the best moment of your life.  Because, it’s the beginning.  It’s the beginning of the process of developing a new and hopefully truer—north.  It’s the place from where we start that very first walk towards ourselves.  Because the mystery rises up.  Where do I go now?  What do I believe in?  What do I want for myself?  How will I get there?

At the reading Suzanne talked about how she no longer expects people not to be human.  That she no longer requires of her yoga teachers perfectly stain-free personal lives.  She has wised up.  Now, she says, she goes to class to be with herself.  It is less, she says, about the bright-eyed guru at the front of the room, and much more about the bright eyed guru that lives right there in her own chest.

None of the people involved in the Anusara controversy are children, and John Friend wasn’t anyone’s father.  Most of them will probably, if they feel unmoored at all, be only temporarily so.  But, for those who are struggling, who feel like they’ve been let down and let down hard, I would say, just remember…that this is the place where a new path opens up.  This is the moment where you get to throw down the ruler-markings of the old system, and find something new.  And those new measurements, you can be sure, are going to be truer and hold steadier, than any that came before.

So much love for my own teachers...and their teachers...and the teachers of those teachers.  May we all get better, breathe more, and forgive. 

Coastal Opposites

Shanti-towners!  I'm here!  I promise!  The big day is fast approaching (zee wedding), and things are getting a little nutso in the Aprile/Willis household, so please forgive my sporadic blog absences.

Last week we were in Brooklyn, taking care of some business and having our respective bachelor and bachelorette parties.  All I have to say about that is that at one point during the evening I was being paraded down the streets of NYC wearing a red feather boa, some body jewelry that made me look like I'd broken out in a cubic zirconia rash, a "Miss Bachelorette" sash, my very man-ish sunglasses, and a crown of plastic penises.

Yes, you read that right.

At one point during this delightfully humiliating journey, a woman entered the elevator we were giggling in, took one look at me and said, very demurely, "do you realize you have falluses on your head?"

Yes, I told her. Yes, I am.

But, this is not my point, Shanti Towners! (though it was a great night, and I'm very thankful to everyone who was there and who made it that way).

Ahem.

There were two things, outside of all the wedding festivities and the sweet time with my mister that I was most excited about for the trip to NY:

1.  A visit to my beloved Laughing Lotus.  For weeks leading up to my trip I was fantasizing about whose classes I would take--salivating over the prospect of moving and breathing and sweating in the way only Laughing Lotus can get me to move and breathe and sweat.  And;

2.  A visit to the new Anusara studio that has opened up in my DUMBO neighborhood.  Anusara is just now starting to make it's way into the yoga forefront in New York, and I was really looking forward to taking a class at this new studio (a block and a half from our apartment, no less!  Where was this place 2 years ago?!).

The class at Abhaya Yoga, the anusara studio in DUMBO, came first.  The studio itself is GORGeous.  It's on the 6th floor of one of the big warehouse-y buildings in the neighborhood, and the windows of the room look out over the east river and the manhattan bridge.  Ah, sigh. Right away upon arriving the teacher introduced herself to me, which bode well, and I set myself up in the back-ish row of the class, prepared for some Anursara, east-coast style.  It was a small group in the class--just five or six people--which I'm familiar with from my own teach-ifiying at newer studios in Los Angeles.  And she seemed sweet, the teacher, and knowledgeable...

I'm hesitating a little here, because this teacher obviously knew her stuff, obviously cared deeply about the practice, and even though I spent the first half of class being annoyed by the way she was cooing at me, and everyone else, like beginners (Moi?! A beginner?! I think noooooot!)--even with all that, she was relentless in her likeability, and I knew that I was just being kind of piggy anyhow, silently demanding to be acknowledged.  (Very yogic, I know.)  So, I didn't dislike her (not by the end, at least), and she did this great splits-up-the-wall thing that I am immediately stealing and adding to my repertoire.  So it was by no means a baaaaaaaaaad class.

But I still walked away disappointed.

The practice, while smart--I could tell she was opening up the body in the right away and building up toward something--was so...herky-jerky.  It was my least favorite kind of sequencing: Do a pose.  Stop.  Do another pose.  Stop.  Do another pose.  Etc., etc., etc.  There was no linking together of movement, whatsoever, no transitioning from one place to another--just: do this...and then that...and then that.

I know that this isn't uncommon, and is a totally valid way of teaching, but for me...for my little over-active brain...I need the fluidity of movement.  I need to feel like I'm traveling through my practice.  I need something to connect me really fully with my breath, and to get me to start actually feeling the movement of energy in my body, and the movement of my body in my space.

There was none of that.  And I missed it.

So, the next day, when it came time for Laughing Lotus-a-rama...I was even more excited for class.  (My excitement was only slightly dulled by the hangover from my bachelorette party the night before.  Thank you late-night tequila shots.)  I was ready to moooooooooove.  To floooooooow.  And, though I was disappointed that my NY schedule was only going to allow me time for one class, and only an hour-long one at that, I managed to time it out so I could take with one of my favorite teachers at the Lotus.  Ali Cramer. Fire-y goddamn goddess that she is.

The class was packed--not uncommon for a late-afternoon Friday Lotus class--there might have been close to 50 people in the room, and we were mat to mat to mat.  Which, I know drives some  people bonkers about popular studios, but I kind of love it...especially when we're moving.  And move we did.  Ali is a genius sequencer (later that night I actually lulled myself to sleep by re-remembering some of the best transitions from the afternoon's class).  I get a lot of deep visceral joy from moving the way we move in a Lotus class and unlike the teacher at the Anusara studio, Ali is someone I feel particularly SEEN by.  Even with that many people in class, I know she knows I'm there, and I know she's reading my joy and she likey.

So, it was great, people, it was a great class.  No surprise there, because Ali is an amazing teacher.

But...

Oh gosh.

I still left a little...disappointed.

I mean, SO MUCH of what I love is contained in those classes...so much creative, soulful, graceful, rockin' expression.  But, I also have this new hunger that I didn't have before...something that's been nurtured since living in LA...and that's the hunger to slow down and to go deep.  To take real time in some of the poses and explore and breathe and tinker.  And when it's not there...I miss it.

So, for the last few days I've been thinking about these two classes--each of them on exact opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of what I'm exploring and interested in--thinking only, THIS is the gap I am trying to bridge.  And wondering...is it possible to create a class that is both creatively sequenced, rhythmic and hypnotic AND one which contains slow deep alignment work?

It seems to me that the goal of a Vinyasa class, like the kind taught at the Lotus, is not so much about the body as it is about the spirit.  The breath, the chanting, the ceaseless movement...it's really about liberating a body FROM the body and putting him or her right in contact with prana.  With the flow--with that mysterious movement of that even more mysterious life-force.

And, if the Vinyasa is a telescope, moving one through the practice in order to get a bigger and bigger view of the universe, then Anusara is a microscope, just honing deeper and deeper in on the little machinations of the body.  Sure, yes, the ultimate goal is still freedom, but in the Anusara, it's deeply rooted in the proper alignment of the flesh (in the hopes that alignment will then consequently align the mind and the heart). And it's not so much about the ecstatic devotional joy like the Vinyasa.

I find myself often in my teaching moving in one direction and then the other, trying to find a middle ground...moving and then restraining.  Going slow and deep and then revving back into movement again.  I think it's possible, it must be, to taste both the wide expansive view and the deep subtle interior in a single class.  Because, this isn't an unfamiliar struggle.  Even the planning of our wedding has felt like this at times--a movement between big bold strokes of creativity and the quiet subtle changes that come from deep conversation and silent soul-searching.  It's just a movement between these two things...trying to let one inform the other, in the hopes that, in the end, something will arise which will contain both.  The quiet and the wild.  The still and the rhythmic.

Is it possible, Shanti Towners?  I sure hope so....

Do You Like It Fast or Slow?

 Alright, so now that I'm a teeeeeeeacher, I have become very, very fancy.

(I got enlightened for my birthday, did I tell you all that?  Yes, it's finally happened.  I don't like to talk about it much, since I no longer have an ego and have no need to pump myself up in any way, but let me tell you...it is AWESOME.  See you on the other side, suckas!)

Hmm, that's two references to a "sucka" in two blog posts.  That's not right.

Anyhooooooo...what I was actually going to say is that now that I've become a teacher, I just spend a lot more time talking about yoga, and in particular, talking about styles of yoga.

"what style do you teach?" "what style of class is this?" "what style of studio do you work at" etc., etc., etc..  And it's been an interesting thing for me in Los Angeles, because although there are a lot of "flow" studios and classes around ("flow" is technically the style that I teach.  Though now that I'm enlightened (and 30) I don't much care for laaaaaabels) but there are NOT a lot of classes or studios that really teach in the style that I am trained in, which is...ROCK STAR YOGA!!!

(insert slammin' guitar riff here)

I'm kidding.  Sort of.  Because actually a big component of what I teach involves music and creativity and (I hope) a kind of celebratory approach to the practice that can be a little free-form....  This is the kind of style that is par for the course in New York but very difficult to find in Los Angeles...which can be a GREAT thing for me as a teacher and/or it can get me greeted with looks of horror and disgust from students and acquaintances.

THEM:  What style do you teach?

ME:  (explains style).

THEM:  (just-smelled-something-rotten-face) Oooooh, I don't like that.

I'm taking a small amount of artistic license here, but I have had several interactions in the past couple weeks where people have proclaimed with fierce distaste: "I don't like to move fast" when it comes to yoga class.

Well, I have the following things to say about that:

1.  ME NEITHER!! A good flow class shouldn't be "fast"...it should flow.  The idea of Vinyasa, or any flow style, is that you're threading poses fluidly together...the idea is not to move "fast".  In Power Yoga maybe you move fast, but Vinyasa should be...flowing.  It should be rythmic.  It should move at the pace of the breath.

2.  Taking into account #1 above...the other thing about flow is that the intention is a little bit different than with a more-alignment based style.  Part of the intention of flow is to hypnotize the brain with that ceaseless fluid movement AND to get the body (and the spirit) lined up and in tune with a larger pulsation.  The pulsation of the universe, actually, is what we're trying to line up with (if I may be so bold).

So...

3.  Flow classes MUST be approached with a different expectation.  No, you are not going to spend as long in any one pose.  No you are not going to be doing a ton of deep anatomy talk, though depending on the teacher, you very well might.  I've got a whole class planned about the hands.  So there, suckas!

What I'm trying to say is that of course we all have preferences...I have preferences.  My god, I have a really serious Anusara practice in addition to my flow practice and sometimes all I want to do is go slow, go deep, stay immersed in a pose...but I think that the "flow" often gets a bad rap among students who maybe have never even really given it a fair shot.  And I want to say, in defense of flow teachers and students everywhere, that it is JUST as valuable and JUST as deep a practice as any other.

(As I'm writing this I realize I have to apologize, silently, for all the judgy things I've thought about Bikram yoga in the past.  Sorry, Bikram!!  We're all in this together!)

Pairs of Opposites...

I'm a Libra, let me just start by saying that. And I think I'm, like, a hardcore Libra. I think probably if someone looked at my chart (which someday I'm going to do, because I love that stuff--any system that attempts to explain even a little bit the mystery of who and what I am, I'm all for it.)--that if anybody looked at my chart everything would just line up to form a picture of two perfectly balanced scales.

I used to think (heh) that Libras were Libras because they were sooooo balanced. What I have come to find out, as my life marches unflaggingly into Adulthood, that Libras are endlessly SEEKING balance, which, if you carry that thought just a little further--if they are seeking it, it probably means they do not have it, i.e., ergo...Libras are probably endlessly, endlessly out of balance. Or else what fun would the seeking be.

But, I'm sorry, this is a blog about yoga, not about astrology. That would have to be called Celestial-Town or something and my sign-off name would be AstroLia. (Hmmm. AstroLia...that either makes me a pet on the Jetsons or someone who lives in a pink-painted house on Pico with a neon "Psychic" sign out front...). Anyhoo...what this has to do with yoga is the following:

I have, over the past few months in La-La-Land, been practicing obsessively at a studio called Still in Silverlake. (Which you will be hearing more and more about over coming weeks and months, I promise). This is my first intimate acquaintance with Anusara Yoga and, folks, I'm in love. I can tell you the following, upfront, about Anusara:

1. It was started by a guy named John Friend, who is apparently a Texan and names poses things like "Wild Thing". Also, apparently you can either say he started Anusara, or you can say he "downloaded" it. (Yikes!)

2. John Friend is still alive and he looks very friendly. (pun intended)

3. It's based on 5 principles, of which I am not totally clear, but it's a very very detail-oriented practice when it comes to alignment.

4. To become an Anusara yoga teacher you have to study like a maniac. It's something like 4 years of hatha practice, 2 years of Anusara, 500 hours studying with Mr. Friend or another master teacher, a written exam (that's like 30 hours of work), a video exam...it just goes on and on. Needless to say...the teachers know their sh--stuff.

5. Anusara is a lot about the heart. It is a heart-based practice, one might say, and this is what draws me to it. As my life, I am learning, is also a heart-based practice...

6. I can almost do a handstand without the wall, my backbends are rocking, my shoulders are finally opening the way they should and I have about 3,000 times the alignment knowledge I had before studying at Still. Before now the only "inner spiral" I knew anything about was the one that happened in my mind on a really bad day.

7. Twice I have been moved to tears by the practice here.

8. While not a vinyasa practice, there is a definite flow-y-ness to Anusara that feeds my need for speed.

(That's it I guess. Those are the 8 things I know about Anusara. That list will grow as time goes on, I'm sure.)

But, what was the point of all this? Balance. Ah, yes. Balance. So, as I begin to learn more and more about proper alignment in this thing called Anusara, the following themes keep appearing:

that, in order for there to be inner freedom there must be strength in the structure. Meaning, the pose has to be set up properly in the periphery (hands and feet and head), and in the big muscles, everything aligned properly, in order for the heart to be free.

that both rigor and softness must exist in the pose. Meaning, if you are only technically minded, there will be no place for the heart to soften. But if you are all ooey-gooey soft and lovey only, there will be no structure and the pose will fall apart.

and,

that you must first hug to the midline in order to expand. Meaning, muscle energy must draw in to the midline of the body and the core or focal point of the pose in order for expansion to be possible*. Both the drawing in and the expanding out then and must happen simultaneously.

*any Anusara teachers reading this PLEASE feel free to correct misinterpretations!

Sense a theme here? B-A-L-A-N-C-E. Apparently, it's everything. And I cannot help but think of how often in my life I play either one end of this spectrum or the other...I am either muscling through my life, attempting to get everything done and done perfectly, or I am just completely loosey-goosey, claiming "openness" but really just allowing things to get sloppy and out of hand, and how much I long, long, long for the middle path. (Libra, I told you) And I see this message repeated, of course, in every form of spiritual thought I am interested in: you must not be too hard and you must not be too soft--you must, you must must must must must must must find the midline. And it is this way in art making too, isn't it? You must have structure to have freedom, and it is impossible for one to function well without the presence of the other. Art without structure is a mess, and art without heart is, well...empty. And this practice, this Anusara practice and this constant daily reminder has been so necessary, as I am in this new city, embarking for the first time maybe ever in my professional life on a path of true focus, and every week I am struggling with myself and the seductiveness of clinging to one extreme or the other: WORKING HARD or GIVING UP and finding that in-between place is difficult, to say the least.

But this is what I love about yoga, people! This is the one thing I am trying always to wrap my mind around--that the poses are metaphors, that the practice is just the physical map of what it is like to journey towards steadiness, open-heartedness and grace. It is amazing to me, the gift that yoga gives in that way--that you can have a teacher lecture about alignment, speaking only about the anatomy and the specific lining up of muscles, head, feet and hands, and that contained within it (whether they know it or not) are these really large lessons about how to live your life.

Line up.

Find the heart in the pose.

First go in, before you expand out.

Breathe.

You know this. I know you know this. It just breaks me up, over and over again.

All for now...

YogaLia