Why I practice and teach formidable poses.

"True fearlessness is not the reduction of fear, but going beyond fear. 

...fearlessness comes from working with the softness of the human heart."

                                                                             The Sacred Path of the Warrior, Chogyam Trungpa

Recently a dear student emailed me to share how excited he was about his practice. He thanked me for preparing the body effectively in order to explore difficult peak poses with more successful outcomes. His comments were generous and thoughtful, while also inspiring a deeper contemplation.

Why do I choose to practice formidable poses? Why do I teach them? Of course on the surface layer, it's because asana is a process. We start with basic poses and move towards more difficult poses. It's simply what we do as practitioners, and as teachers. It's the expected natural course.

But every now and then I can't stop myself from asking, who really cares if I ever get my leg behind my head? What does it say about me that I can go from Vasistasana to Hanumanasana and back? Does it make me a better person? Am I more enlightened?

A few awarenesses bubbled up in thinking about my student - the expansion and evolution of his practice. First, I saw myself reflected in his eyes. And it gave me pause to take yet a deeper look. I continue to practice, engage and explore challenging poses because on the initial surface level it's fun! And if I look underneath that layer, it truly does build a solid foundation for life. I've learned that no separation exists from on the mat to off the mat. Subsequently, life is yoga and yoga is life.

Sometimes my mat is a play ground, where I either play alone, or I gather with friends and students, and we encourage one another to attempt something new, or to go further. We place our mats so that we are able to see one another, and yes at times we still even applaud. Whether they, or I, "get" the pose or not, is often beside the point. We support each other in the practice because we inspire one another to delve deeper inside our physical home, and our energetic home. We learn to laugh at ourselves and at the craziness of what we are doing. We become mirrors for one another so that when our stuff comes up we can see ourselves more clearly, more honestly, and with compassion.

Yet, at other times, my mat in not a playground. It becomes "The field of Kurukshetra", my personal battlefield. It's here where I often come face to face with my dharma, with my demons, and with whatever is ripping my heart wide open not only with joy, but with sadness or despair.

A few years ago, as I was living through the most incredibly painful and frightening time of my life, I saw my practice in an even more purposeful light. Intellectually, I understood that the practice is preparation. And it did help me through what I naively considered difficult times. But until I was faced with a nightmare of such outlandish proportions I had no real clue what this practice truly offers.

Reflecting back, some days all I had the stamina for is what I call Slugasana. Rolling myself around on the mat, maybe a few standing poses, and a long held child's pose. Honestly, even today, now living on the other side of that terror filled time in my life, I don't care a whit about standing drop back. Yet, those Slugasana days flow one into the other and the next thing I know, I'm back at it. Full force. Hatha yoga after all is the "forceful" yoga.

What I received on a deeper level, is that the challenge of unpacking, playing, struggling with formidable poses, poses that exposed a deep seated fear, cultivated an inner strength that I never really believed I possessed. Building those muscles on my mat, in my head and heart, built the muscles of fortitude and fearlessness, while firing up my will so I would never give up.

Equally important for me is to balance out the hatha yoga, where I practice one of the most formidable poses of all; the seat of meditation. Meditation can be equally challenging, and equally asks a lot of the practitioner. Which may be a contemplation for another day. Yet, what I know to be true, is that without the mat, without the cushion, I would have been a goner.

I have witnessed and lived through the intensity of hatred and vengeance that quite possibly can burn one alive. And I have been embraced with love, compassion and spaciousness. Each day I live on the other side of my experience is a precious fragile jewel. My capacity to live and love more fully, and arise each sunrise with gratitude has exponentially expanded.

When I see myself reflected back in my dear student I see the reflection of the difficult times and how they have reshaped me. The times I've wondered if I literally would live through, the times that have shattered me into fine little pieces, I see have shifted me in deeply profound ways. The gift of the unraveling is that I bring this new me to the mat and to the cushion, and my practices are forever changed.