Advancing into Grace

Lately, I have heard many people discussing “advanced” yoga classes; more specifically, I have received inquiries from people who express interest in the studio, but wonder why we do not offer advanced classes—likely their question is based on the studio’s level designations 1/3 or 2/3 on the schedule, but no solid ‘3’s. While this numeration supports the studio’s philosophy to encourage everyone to feel welcome to explore all classes, this notion of an advanced class begs the question of what “advanced” means and how to safely engage in an advanced practice.

A common delineation for an advanced practice is that a person can perform wheel and can kick into handstand. Yet subtleties abound and not all who can perform wheel can perform it safely. So then how is “advanced” evaluated, and by whom? Is a twelve-year-old who can fall into wheel and windmill her light-as-a-fairy self into handstand an advanced yogini? Or, perhaps, is an advanced yogini the one who has explored how to spread her awareness to all parts of her being in an asana so that she simultaneously “poses” and “reposes” (Iyengar)? True, she may not be able to bend into wheel, but she has an amazingly balanced and graceful triangle pose. A gymnast is not a yogi.

Let’s face it: many “advanced” poses are stunning. But when we decide to attend an advanced practice, which part(s) of us are ready? Are our physical bodies prepared with strength, flexibility, and knowledge of proper alignment? Is our mental body prepared to approach an honest practice filled with “faith, courage, determination, awareness, and absorption” (Iyengar)? Is our spiritual body able to breathe through our practice and experience that our breath is so much more than a respiratory action? Too often, it’s our ego that unfurls the mat in an advanced practice—this ego that allows us to soar when we serve it well, and feel small when we cannot do its bidding. There is a fine, and sometimes indistinguishable, line between appropriately challenging our whole being and the natural advancement of poses that follows and the ego wanting to inflate itself through perceived successes. But within our practice, we know what is true; the rub is whether or not we honor it. When I teach English, there are always people in my class who love to write creatively and they feel confined by grammatical rules and style guidelines. But as a writing teacher, I want them to know the basics so that they have a strong, solid foundation and from that place they can make creative, more personally expressive choices. The same can be said for our approach to asanas. Can we practice the patience of establishing a strong foundation in dolphin to avoid potential injury from extending ourselves too soon into headstand? When we understand and inhabit structural guidelines, we inhabit grace.

“Advanced” is a nebulous word brimming with so much potential integration, and injury. Much like there is Yoga and then there are branches of Yoga; there are asanas and then there are branches of asanas. Each branch can lead us toward integration. Patanjali says, “When an asana is correctly performed, the dualities between body and mind, mind and soul, have to vanish.” Certainly the duality does not vanish when it’s our ego that wants to light up in firefly. Our practices can be authentically advanced, in body, mind, and spirit, if we honor the asana as a method of healing and engage in an honest practice. Iyengar writes, “[The asanas] should be performed in such a way as to lead the mind from attachment to the body towards the light of the soul so that the practitioner may dwell in the abode of the soul.” But this will ask for many things, one of which being an honest reckoning within our practice and the trust that there are many ways to find the light of the soul—and they may or may not include firefly.

--Autumn