"The most important thing
is always the least apparent.”
James Hillman
I didn't know when I walked
into my first yoga class in 1968 at the age of 16 that yoga would become one of
the guiding forces of my life. I only knew that when I came out of those
classes I felt more alive than I'd ever felt, and that I wanted more. In a
small loft studio in Boston, which held 10 people maximum, Carol
Nelson (she
still teaches today) guided us through classical Iyengar yoga. We held the
poses a LONG time. There was no such thing as flow, or warm-up or cool down. We
would practice a few poses, get some props, do some poses, put the props away
and get a chair. And repeat. The
idea of putting music on would have been laughable. We wore baggy cotton yoga
pants or tights and leotards. Men wore "yoga diapers," shorts with
elastic around the legs. The shapes we made with our bodies were linear and
strict and strongly defined. There was an order to things and the order seemed
to have mystical importance. For me, it was a joy to rest into the structure of
the teaching and the asanas, and feel my body as a body for the first time. In the burning and intense moments I spent
in poses, something softened and unlocked inside me and it was extraordinary.
Yoga Journal 1977 |
The world was in turmoil. It
was the summer of love, but there was an ominous
undercurrent to things:
Vietnam, the Manson/Tate murders, talk of revolution, the National Guard hosing
and tear gassing demonstrators, Kent State, assassinations, riots. We were the
generation who spoke of ending war and poverty, racism and inequality, and of fostering peace and love. It seems incredibly naive to me now, but I truly thought war
was going to end before I hit my 30's.
My yoga practice was a place
where I could rest into focus and joy: a quiet, holy feeling of connection and
peace that I found nowhere else. Outside, the world might be burning, and I
would be marching in demonstrations, full of passion and righteousness. But in
the yoga room, my heart was always safe and could expand. Yoga practice
accompanied me through career transitions, moves, and heartbreak.
One thing led to another, like
a river over the rocks. War didn't end. I became a yoga teacher. My classes
were small at first, 6 or 8 souls, and we were deeply mindful and serious in
our practice. And then, I don't know, something
This is where I got bitter for
a while and judgmental about what yoga really is, as if I knew. I was also
often just plain worried about my friends who went into ridiculously heated
rooms and did the same movements over and over. (Repetitive stress syndrome,
anyone?)
Then my little boat of reason
righted itself once again and I came to remember that there are seasons of life
(probably hot yoga is a better outlet for youthful aggression than getting drunk
and driving fast), and that we hopefully each learn to know our tendencies and
how to balance them.
So now, as yoga becomes a
worldwide phenomenon, what I'm most devoted to is the hand to hand,
heart to heart, soul to soul teaching and learning that can never be
commodified, dumbed down, branded, glamorized, or taken away. I recommit to
seeking and teaching yoga that is not about extremes, that is slower, body wise, intelligent, community honoring, and respectful, that is not aggressive, and
is strong-hearted. Although I respect whatever yoga path anyone may choose,
mine is sourced out of these values.
Peace.