The folks in charge have thought of everything – they’ve found the best smoothie recipes, sourced the most delicious pastries, there’s six different kinds of breads available, a multitude of juices, granola, muesli, cereals, oats… the list goes on. Even the egg station, with its abundance of omelette fillers, feels opulent.

So for the first few days of our stay in Chiang Mai we found ourselves scooting back across town once we’d finished yoga to catch the last of the breakfast delights.

Being Kapha, I generally eat a light, or no, breakfast, but this extravagance would be gone in a matter of days when we’d be checking out of the hotel and moving on, so I made the most of it.

And paid the price.

Once you understand the principles of Ayurveda, you understand the effect that different foods will have on your digestion and well-being before you enjoy even the first bite. And after years of paying attention the effect of individual foods on how I felt, I knew what was coming.

But sometimes we know what’s coming and do it anyway. In the early afternoon I would feel bloated and by mid-afternoon I would crave sleep. My energy, usually reliable and consistent, would yo-yo throughout the day, changing constantly. My hunger became erratic and I began to seek the very foods that I knew would not sit well with me.

These are only a few of the short-term symptoms of incompatible food combinations. The long term effect is the formation of Ama and, given enough Ama, disease eventually results.

We can avoid this discomfort by following a few simple rules of food combining. Some of these appear relatively obvious while others are more difficult to appreciate.

The following table comes courtesy of Vasant Lad as it’s the simplest and most easily assimilated guide to incompatible foods. In this list, foods in CAPITALS are the most difficult combinations.

**According to ancient Ayurvedic literature, honey should never be cooked. If cooked, the molecules become a non-homogenized glue that adheres to mucous membranes and clogs subtle channels, producing toxins. Uncooked honey is nectar. Cooked honey is considered poison.

Also, remember that milk is never taken cold.

My indulgence in the breakfast lasted only a few days and I was able to quickly return to balance by making choices which led to better consequences. The breakfast treats were a delight, but only as a short-lived detour from my regular eating.

In Ayurveda, toxins are known as Ama. Ama is a sanskrit word that translates literally as “unidgested food”. According to Ayurveda, Ama forms in the body when our Agni (a sankrit term meaning “digestive fire”) is impaired and we are unable to fully digest the food we eat. This undigested food, rather than being excreted as waste, is absorbed into the bloodstream through the intestinal wall and travels around the body accumulating in places of congenital or acquired weakness.

The qualities of Ama are cold, damp, heavy, thick, and sticky – much like the qualities of Kapha, however, where Kapha has an intelligent function, Ama is turbid, tends to ferment, and brings about suppression of the Agni. When the Agni is affected, more Ama forms and its accumulation in the body disrupts the regular function of the Doshas ultimately manifesting in the form of a disease.

For a practical example of how Ama becomes a problem, let’s assume a fictitious person with an average digestion. They don’t pay attention to the order of eating, they eat late at night, exercise on a full stomach, etc. Despite their lack of attention to eating, this person produces only a single drop of Ama with each meal. Over the course of a year, this person will accumulate over 50ml of undigested food in their body and in ten years the Ama will amount to a highly significant volume: half a litre.

And this is where problems arise, when Ama reaches levels where the body can no longer function effectively. This is a slow process, disease does not arrive in our body overnight, there are warning signs and we ignore them at our peril. Constant headaches, dry and itchy skin, persistent joint aches, pain in the muscles – these are not signs of aging, these are signs of impending disease. When Ama has disrupted the regular function of the body for a long enough period, we fall “ill”.

So, how can we work to reduce the level of toxins we have in our body? How can we “detox”?

Extreme fasting, raw food diets, single food diets, gluten free diets – these are some of the suggestions put forth as a means to “detox” and restore our health. We are encouraged to follow these diets a couple of times a year, believing that the retox/detox cycle isn’t going to cause us health problems later in life. Ayurveda is clear on many of these options: they may reduce Ama in the short term but the longer term effects on Agni will lead to an increase of Ama in the body.

Confused? Given the amount and degree of misinformation regarding detoxing it’s not surprising.

Let’s take fasting as an example. In popular media this is often considered an ideal method to quickly detoxify the body, however, from an Ayurvedic perspective this method generally fails to produce the desired results. Fasting, or even undereating, for longer periods causes us to develop a Tikshna (meaning “sharp”) Agni. This Agni is useful for the removal of Ama from the body and this is the motivation behind many of the popular detox regimes. However, this action sets up an imbalance which persists long after the fast has come to an end. It is this imbalance which leads to an net increase in the amount of Ama in our system.

Fasting is used in Ayurveda to improve a person’s Agni when it has become Manda, meaning dull. In this instance, a day of fasting will clear away any stagnancy in the digestive tract and kindle the Agni so as to improve the efficiency and strength of digestion. This practice, performed intermittently, will do wonders for reducing the amount of Ama in the body over the long term.

In order to restore balance in the body there is little need to adopt a fad diet, take medication, or deprive the body of nourishment. By following Ayurveda’s principles of eating we can truly understand how our everyday habits and patterns affect our digestion.

Detoxing is not a singular exercise to be practiced in isolation. Embrace the holistic nature of living and eat today how you want to eat for the rest of your life. Make the right choices and a balanced Agni will have you detoxing – removing Ama – right up until your last day, without ever having to follow another fruitless fad eating regime.

Ayurveda provides some relief by articulating eleven relatively simple principles that facilitate a healthy attitude towards eating. Eleven principles might sound weighty, but as you assimilate the wisdom you will appreciate that much of it is common sense.

Healthy eating is a foundation of Ayurveda. But as these principles articulate, healthy eating goes beyond simply adopting a wholesome and nutritious diet. In order to avoid disease it is important for us to look at all aspects of eating and these eleven principles help to focus our attention on what is essential.

1. Mental Attitude Towards Food
   The manner in which our mind approaches a meal determines how well we will digest that meal. If we have anxieties about food, dislike certain foods, feel we are not deserving of sustenance, these thoughts will negatively affect how our body responds when the food is ingested.

   With self-diagnosed food intolerances at an all time high, it is clear we are paying attention to our diet. However, it is important not to create an angst around eating and instead shift some of the focus to the joy of food.

2. Setting
   Do we eat in a canteen, at our desk, or hurriedly in our car? Do we make time for meals, perhaps go to a park for lunch, and relax away from the daily stress?

   Although difficult to achieve, we should aim to eat in an environment appropriate for the proper digestion of our food. Such an environment may be in an office or a cubicle, but perhaps not while reading email or surfing the internet.

   The more comfortable and relaxed we feel in our eating environment, the better (and more completely) digested our food will be.

3. Social Environment
   Do we have complete autonomy over our diet or do we have to compromise as part of a larger group? If we eat in a group is the conversation enjoyable and relaxing? If we are living alone, are we motivated to cook for ourselves?

   The ideal dinner environment is hard to come by but it does improve our ability to digest food. Eating a well prepared, flavourful meal in the company of those we enjoy is of tremendous benefit to our health and well-being.

4. Attention on eating
   Do we eat peacefully and thoughtfully? Do we consider our food as we eat?

   Paying attention to our eating, particularly chewing and swallowing, ensures that the body is receiving the correct signals so as to prepare the stomach for digestion.

   If we sit in front of the TV or have heated discussions during meals, our food will not be fully digested and we will most certainly be creating toxins. If you’ve ever received distressing news at or just after a mealtime, you’ll know just how poorly your digestion responds.

5. Quality of food
   Natural, wholesome food. Simple.

   Buy good quality, cold pressed, organic oils. Avoid buying frozen food and instead opt for fresh. Organic food provides a major health benefit.

6. Kind of food
   This is a more complicated point, leading to the discussion as to which foods are appropriate for our personal Dosha.

   We may be eating organic, well prepared food but it is not beneficial unless it is balancing to the body.

7. State of the food
   Is the food fresh? Are we eating the suitable mix of cooked and raw food?

   Each Ayurvedic type enjoys different combinations of raw and cooked food and too much of one will eventually lead to an imbalance. Knowing what type you are will lead to a more informed diet and a healthier disposition.

8. Order of eating foods
   Certain foods digest more easily than others and it is important to eat them in an order than promotes healthy digestion.

   Failing to eat foods in the correct order will lead to bloating, burping, feelings of heavings, and a lack of energy.

9. Food combinations
   Poor food combinations cause enzyme conflicts in the digestive tract and this leads to the food not being fully digested.

   By being aware of well suited food combinations, you can alleviate digestive problems in a matter of weeks.

10. Quantity of food
    If we eat too much food, even good food, we will not be healthy. Too much food suppresses our digestive fire and this will increase the creation of toxins in our system.

    This is an important principle for those people who are considering going on a diet in order to lose weight. We don’t need to eat different foods in order to lose weight, we just need to eat less of them.

    Of equal importance is ensuring that we are sufficiently nourished. In undereating we will suffer from diseases of the same magnitude as overeating.

11. The Act of Eating
    Do we eat on the run? Do we “snatch” lunch between meetings? Do we eat when we’re not hungry because of our schedule?

    The act of eating is as important as the food itself. Eating a wholesome, organic meal while walking hurriedly to a meeting is not an ideal.

In the coming installments I will discuss some of these points in more detail, clarifying how we can promote a healthy digestion. Among the topics will be an explanation of the often misunderstood concept of Ama, or toxins, and why “detoxing” often does not mean what we believe it to mean.

The problem had come on slowly, almost surreptitiously. I was in Sri Lanka at the time, teaching a two week retreat. The lead up to the trip had been a very busy time for me and I stubbornly practiced without considering the effect this hard-pressed time was having on me, both physically and mentally.

At the end of the first week I began to perceive a twinge in my shoulder, nothing too troubling – but it was there, I could feel it. Within two days the pain had become so great that practice became impossible and by the third night I couldn’t sleep due to the torturous discomfort.

Once I arrived back in London the discomfort in my shoulder had subsided greatly. Despite this I made arrangements to see my osteopath to discover the source of this pain. I was also convinced, rightly so, that despite the lack of pain, something was horribly wrong.

He confirmed my worst fears. Five separate and usually unrelated “tweaks” had engineered a debilitating tendonitis in the shoulder. What he didn’t tell me was that he expected 6 months of intensive rehabilitation before I would be doing anything close to a regular yoga practice.

In the days following I heeded his advice to the letter. He talked about how active meditation and mental imagery had helped him to speed up the healing process. I was very sceptical, but I also deeply missed practice so most anything was an option.

The results from the meditation were astonishing and I felt that it was having a real and moving impact. My shoulder was loosening up and I no longer felt the same level of discomfort that I had been feeling only a few days earlier.

But I still missed practice. I missed the movement, the physical effect of opening up the body, I missed the breath.

I was under strict instructions not to do any form of physical activity but I chose to roll out my mat nonetheless.

And I sat.

And I breathed.

Ekam, inhale. Dwe, exhale. Trini, inhale.

I sat, without moving, and breathed through the practice. I breathed the entire primary series. I breathed the sun salutes, standing, the seated poses, even finishing.

I understood where I was holding tension in my regular practice. I realised where my breath was shallow, where I took two breaths instead of a single long breath, where I held the breath to bind deeper.

I finished, took savasana and felt fantastic.

I did the same the next day and continued for a month. This “practice” became my practice. And although I wasn’t moving, I could feel the bandhas engaging through the practice, holding the energy, allowing the energy to build with the breath. It was truly a powerful experience.

I remember the first time I tied (re-tied?) the breath with the movement. The first time I lifted my arms with the inhale… the practice felt entirely new, as though the movement was secondary and almost lacking in importance. Everything was led with the breath, the movement followed, never instigated.

I feel as though I’ve been given a new perspective, a fresh view on a solid love in my life. I had this feeling before I left for Sri Lanka that I hadn’t been working at my practice, it was just something I “got through” every day and the purpose seemed more vague than usual.

Part of the problem was that I had been focussing on the wrong practice. The injury had forced me to fully appreciate where the practice begins and where it ends. No movement until the breath begins, no movement after the breath is complete.

David Williams says that:

If you’re not getting healthier with the practice, you’re doing it wrong.

Sometimes doing it wrong is more than the physical movement. Sometimes we need to correct the breathing in order to be doing the correct practice.

In the weeks following I had slowly started practicing again, being aware that the enjoyment and wonder of practice was no longer there. I was deeply in need of some wisdom and guidance.

Work determined that I was headed to Koh Samui and the Yoga Thailand retreat centre. I hadn’t planned on spending time with the visiting teachers but the advice of a friend led to me spending two overwhelming weeks with Ron Reid.

It’s worth mentioning again that my time with Ron was serendipitous – I was tired, lost, and in search of direction. I had desire and was completely open to learning (a new thing for me). With Ron, as with any teacher, being open is the first step because:

Practicing with Ron will change your beliefs, perceptions, and physical understanding of the practice.

In short, he will blow your mind.

If you let him.

For first few days it was back to basics. I had expected this to some extent. What I didn’t expect is that a week later it was still about the basics – with insight. Ron communicated the understanding that it’s all basics.

We all know that upward dog is a backbend but how many of us are encouraged to work as hard in upward dog as we would in a backbend? How many of us work as hard in downward dog as we would in a hand stand? How often do we switch off during practice, only to work at the end, with:

The pose that we’re working on.

Ron taught me that we are always working on the pose that we’re working on. Standing, sitting, lifting, floating – the basics lead to the integrated pose. If you work on the simple poses, you work on the “advanced” poses.

But this understanding comes at a price.

Ron is clear that you have to want to work in order to practice this way, because:

If your body doesn’t have to do the work, it probably won’t.

Initially I struggled with the effort required, it took me out of my “meditation” through the practice and I found the incessant effort to be, well, hard. But then I realised the poses I was “working on” were getting easier. I had more strength through the practice and my body felt more open, more able, and ultimately more willing to put in the effort.

I began to feel great – physically and mentally. The strength of the practice began to settle my mind.

In practicing with Ron one of the shortcomings of Ashtanga became more evident to me, for in Ashtanga sometimes:

The end is more important than the means.

This can lead to a machiavellian practice whereby the practitioner makes the bind/twist/catch the focus, the drishti, of the pose. With open hips in Marichyasana D, long hamstrings in Supta Kurmasana, a hinged back in Kapotasana… the practitioner need not focus on the means, the end has won.

Ron returns the focus to the process.

Ron’s mind has a unique ability to deconstruct poses into their component parts – he turns poses upside down or 90 degrees to figure out the movement and work required. Having figured out the individual parts, he then brings the sum of all the parts into the union of the pose.

Ron may even break your stride by suggesting that you don’t need to do a particular pose every day and instead offer you an alternative opener from another series, again leading you to focus on the basics.

Then there’s his insightful quote that I think of every time I take my hands back, lift my head, and open my chest:

You are high jumping, not back bending.

Ron is an instrumental and wonderfully generous teacher. I was fortunate to spend time with him when my practice was at a difficult place and I was open to fully appreciate the wisdom of his years of practice. To study with him is to realise what it means to practice with awareness.

1. LIFESTYLE, NOT DIET
This is not a short term fix; it’s a way of life.

Eat today the way you want to eat for the rest of your life. It will take you longer to reach health but the lessons your learned along the way will keep you healthy once you get there. Dieting is only useful in the case of chronic disease.

2. GET ORGANISED
Structure your life and you’ll structure your food.

The body loves regularity, no matter which type you are. Regular eating will create regular digestion – eating at the same time every day will lead the body to be ready for food at the same time every day. Try this, it works.

3. EAT WHOLESOME FOOD
You are what you eat – junk food creates a junk body.

Does this need to be explained?

4. LEARN TO LEAVE FOOD ON YOUR PLATE
This helps you take control of compulsive eating.

My culture taught me not to waste food. When you eat at home, take only what you need. When you eat somewhere else, don’t believe that the chef knows how hungry you are.

5. LEARN TO COOK
We do it every day – cook your own food, you’ll eat and feel better.

Learn simple recipes, learn what goes into each meal. Not only will you change the way you perceive food but you’ll have an appreciation for the wise adage:

Restaurants cook for taste, not for health

6. MAKE A MEAL OUT OF IT
Make a ceremony out of every meal, so that you’ll really appreciate what you’ve eating.

Prepare the table, use the good plates, eat together. Sure, you can’t do this in your lunch hour but you can come close – go somewhere quiet, digest what you’re eating, take your time.

7. EAT SLOWLY
That way, you’ll feel satisfied before you’ve eaten too much.

Give your digestion a chance to ready itself for the food you’re eating. Eat slowly and the taste will signal the right enzymes to be made available. If need be, examine why you’re eating fast.

8. ENJOY YOUR FOOD
It’s one of life’s greatest pleasures, not a punishment.

Commit to three months of healthy eating. After this your tastes will change – reduced sugar cravings, little interest in junk food, and knowing how your eating affects how you feel.

9. MOVE IT!
Exercise if a key essential to being healthy.

Find an exercise you enjoy doing and commit to doing it often. Make sure it gets your whole body moving, your lymphatic system depends on it.

10. GET ENOUGH SLEEP
Structuring your sleeping patterns will regulate your body.

Go to bed within 15 minutes of when you went to bed the night before and wake up within 15 minutes of when you woke up the morning before. Irregular sleeping is as bad as jet lag. So is under and oversleeping.

11. GO OFF PISTE
Don’t be fundamentalist about it.

Break the rules every now and again. Just don’t make a habit out of it.

Should I go to Mysore?

Students spend large amounts of energy debating the merits of making the costly and time consuming trip to the “source” of Ashtanga Yoga – Mysore, India.

Some feel that coming to Mysore is a rite of passage, an unquestionable pilgrimage made if you are in any way a serious practitioner. I overheard a conversation where an authorised teacher was discussing another teacher who had not made the trip to Mysore:

He is not a teacher. He has not come to Mysore, to the source, to pay his respects. He is not an authentic teacher.

But I have experienced teachers who have chosen not to make the trip. Teachers who have finished the unthinkable fourth series and have paid their respects each morning by rolling out their mat and continuing the tradition. Are these teachers frauds?

Some might ask how it is possible to know the tradition if you have never come to Mysore? I would answer that it is possible to be Buddhist without having met the Buddha, and it is possible to be a Christian without having met Jesus Christ. You can commit, surrender, and know the tradition. A pilgrimage does not the student make.

However, the lessons that Mysore has the capacity to teach can not be overlooked.

A great number of practitioners come to Sharath in search of something. We want to be the special student, we want to make progress, we want to impress. But Sharath is being shared by an extraordinary number of students and the bottom line is that only a small measure of students develop a relationship with him. To be a part of that group you need to commit to his teaching – he needs to watch your practice, he needs to get to know you, you need to come back, more than once.

Sharath has the enviable position of being the source. We don’t question his ability as a teacher because the river begins here, without this spring of knowledge there is can be no downstream understanding. And so if we don’t surrender, or choose to go elsewhere, hundreds of students line up behind us willing to surrender in our place.

And in Mysore we learn that we are not special, or we learn that we are special. We learn that we have to stop here and be humble, or we can go on and be confident. We can spend hours at the coconut stand gathering friends for a Pose Pity Party that begins with:

I’m so frustrated, why won’t he let me go on?

It might be a succession of trips to Mysore and still we don’t move on. Sharath wants us to grab, to bind, to bend. It doesn’t seem fair, it seems impossible, how painful and defeating.

But it’s a reality. And we can only break ourselves against a reality. When we reject gravity we find ourselves scratched and bruised. When we reject reality we find ourselves frustrated and defeated.

Sharath, like most exceptional teachers, stretches our ability to be content with what is, not to long for what is not. We find ourselves raging against the unfairness of it all – how can this be? And then we accept, we find space and settle. Then, as with the onion, a new layer is peeled and we rage once again. Find contentment and peace. Rage. Contentment. With each layer we go deeper and experience a new level of discomfort, we laugh at how difficult things used to be and long for the ease of the old days, as we wrestle with the pains of a newfound depth.

And there is more to Mysore than what goes on inside the shala. A friend noted that:

There is a pecking order at the main shala but the struggle is the great equaliser. What’s missing is that we are all struggling. The superficiality of the pecking order has taken over the reality that we are all struggling together.

The collective struggle is replaced by individuality, the Ego. We see ourselves are separate – this is my struggle, I am in this pose, I am stuck here, I am going to led intermediate. A cursory glance around the KPJAYI shala during practice allows us to see the struggle as a united one – we are all suffering. The superficial flexibility and the pose we are in my differ, but we are all suffering.

And separately we come to the practice each morning to seek collective liberation from the suffering.

Sharath encourages us to think that:

We are all beginners.

Otherwise we have nothing to learn, we will mistakenly believe that we know it all. We will break ourselves against reality believing that we know better. But we don’t, we have much to learn, we are all beginners.

If we see ourselves as beginners, how is it possible to judge the approach, practice, lifestyle of another? How can we possibly know better if we ourselves are mere beginners? Suddenly our Ego falls away and we seek to learn from a perspective that is not our own, a perspective that is unfamiliar, a perspective that is even uncomfortable.

The lessons that we learn in Mysore are taught by the collective wisdom of the universe. We have chosen a path, the Ashtanga tradition. We have chosen this path from many paths leading to the identical source – liberation. To be smug or self-righteous in any part of our decision – to think we need to enforce the tradition, to chastise others for their decisions – shows that we are not learning, that our Ego has not given up the fight, that in reality we are ignorant of being a beginner.

In the end it doesn’t matter if you come to Mysore or not. If you are working to release your samskaras, if you are doing the tapasya, your liberation will continue without the Mysore pilgrimage. However, if you’re not working, if you’re not surrendering, then coming to Mysore is of little consequence.

Given the relatively unsteady nature of Vata, it’s important for Ayurveda to provide the means to bring about balance when the inevitable happens. And it does. There are two easily accessible solutions: Abhyanga and Pranayama.

Pranayama is widely discussed in both Yoga and Ayurveda circles, however, it is often the power of simple pranayama that is overlooked. Much focus is given to Kumbacha (retention) and advanced pranayama techniques as a means to clear the nadis and liberate the Kundalini energy, thus becoming an enlightened being.

Pranayama has several unique properties, one of the most important of which is the ability for us to control an autonomic (involuntary) function – breathing is an unconscious function of the body that can be made conscious with great ease.

Pranayama provides a link between the mind and the body. Yogic texts refer to the mind as the Manomaya kosha (mental sheath) and the body as the Annamaya kosha (physical sheath). The link between the two is the pranic, or vital, sheath called the Pranamaya kosha. These koshas are not simply fancy names or concepts without practical application. The texts go on to explain how we can use this pranic link to settle the mind and balance the body.

Sri O.P. Tiwari says:

Know your breath and you will know your mood.

As an Ayurvedic Physician I carefully observe my own breathing and that of my patients, knowing that shallow, irregular breathing indicates a tense, anxious, or depressed mood. While deep, expansive, even breathing is indicative of an open and relaxed mood.

Try this for yourself – next time you find yourself feeling emotionally heavy or anxious, bring your attention to your breath and without changing it, observe it. Do the same when you’re relaxed. You will find that your breath is communicating with you.

And the most wonderful aspect of the Pranamaya kosha? You can communicate with your body through the breath, it’s a two-way relay. When you find yourself troubled, go to the breath for relief – deep, diaphragmatic breathing with equal inhaling and exhaling will result in a regular and slow heartbeat, calming the thoughts and so the mind.

The practical aspects of this involve the subdoshas of Vata and can be easily understood without much training in Ayurveda. Three specific subdoshas are involved – Udana, Prana, and Apana.

Udana Vayu governs the upward movement of Vata and is responsible for exhaling in the process of breathing. Udana Vayu is also responsible for moving energy towards the brain when we need to think deeply about a particular subject. However, when Udana Vayu is too strong we experience excessive rumination and an inability to quiet the mind.

Prana Vayu governs the inward movement of energy and is responsible for inhaling in the process of breathing. Prana Vayu helps us to bring food and nourishment into the body and balances Udana Vayu.

When either Udana or Prana Vayus are too strong the energetic movement in our body is affected, impairing the natural function of the body and resulting in excessive thinking, anxiety, constipation, indigestion, etc.

Performing simple, deep, equal inhales and exhales restores the balance between these two subdoshas. As we inhale we strengthen Prana Vayu and encourage a downward movement of energy, as we exhale we strengthen Udana Vayu and encourage an upward movement of energy. And so with a knowledgeable teacher it is also possible to extend either the inhale or exhale in order to correct a chronic imbalance, bringing mental clarity and tranquility.

The third subdosha involved in pranayama is called Apana Vayu. Apana is considered the most important subdosha of Vata as it provides grounding and holding for the body and for the other Vata subdoshas. Therefore without a stable Apana Vayu, the body struggles to function appropriately.

The Charaka Samhita reads:

Apano apanagaha pakvadhanalayo apanaha
(Apana is the root of all the vayus)

This is why it is important to focus the mind on the pelvic floor and anus when performing Pranayama. By contracting the anus, Apana Vayu is strengthened and so they body becomes grounded providing a stable base for the remaining Vata subdoshas to perform their tasks.

Next time you find yourself searching for a Pranayama teacher, consider forgoing the teacher who promises liberation through intense yogic practices. Electing instead to study with the humble teacher who imparts knowledge of “basic” Pranayama will provide serenity through a balanced body and cessation of the thoughts… which some might feel is the ultimate liberation.

Coming to Mysore has been like visiting my mom’s gravestone – I have seldom felt further away from my practice, both physically and spiritually.

Rising at 3:30am, queuing for sought after mat space, contorting in a room with sixty-plus students, seeking a share of a busy teacher’s time, crowding at coconut stands discussing practice… it appears unquestioningly devout.

But Richard Freeman says:

If you practice a system unwaveringly, something will remain unaddressed or unresolved and there is likely to be residue from the practice and some aspect of your life that remains unconscious.

Being in Mysore is perhaps less about the practice and more about personal growth. We come for the asana but soon realise that it’s a sideshow, the main event has far more potential for change. In Mysore, if you’re open to it, the mirrors come up and you see all sides of yourself.

Are you the yogi who is first at the gate? Do you allow others ahead of you when entering the shala? Do you shift the mats of others out of the way so you may have a “nicer” practice spot? Do you pause your practice to provide others with room for the prodigious poses? Do you define yourself by your level of “expertise” in the practice? Do you hasten towards western eateries to keep up with the social happenings? Do you live an existence of contemplative solitude?

The questions are specific because, if you listen quietly, these are the mirrors that come up. And when looking into these mirrors, as the practice fades into the background, your true self rises and the magic of Mysore becomes evident.

It’s not about what pose you’ve been given (it never is), it’s not about where you think you should be in the practice (does it even matter), it’s not about the attention you believe you got from the teacher (we are all special)… it’s far deeper than this and if you pause for long enough, the light of the authentic practice begins to shine.

India has the ability to strip away facades, to mirror the divergence between who we think we are and who we are shown to be. The gap is not the obstacle, it’s our unwillingness to accept the gap as a reality that creates our suffering. Be open to the suffering and the joy of liberation waits patiently for you.

When I told friends of my plans, many asked why I was going so early to Mysore – Sharath wasn’t going to be back from his world tour yet. And in the first few days of my stay, many of the local people asked me if the main shala was open and, if not, when Sharath was arriving. These conversations, along with the incredibly low numbers in the shala, gave me the impression that the focus of attention has not been spread evenly across the Jois family.

All of this would have somewhat concerned me but Nancy Gilgoff‘s evident affection for Saraswathi reassured me. Having known her since the 1970′s, Nancy was the first person to encourage me to spend time with Saraswathi.

My first practice in the main shala felt strangely uneventful, helped by the quietness of so few people and the lack of elbowing for mat space. I took the total number of students up to eight, so space was not at a premium and any nervous energy could easily disperse. This stillness remained during my time with Saraswathi, and when Sharath arrived I would realise how special this time was.

Because of the personal attention, the unexpected often happened… at the end of my first week Saraswathi came over to my mat after Setu Bandhasana, the last pose of primary and asked

How many poses you knowing?

I was unsure how to answer so she followed up with

You know second series? Okay, next week second you doing.

I was very surprised by this as most people had told me that one’s first trip to Mysore is spent largely practicing the primary series. I was also pleased as I had begun to miss my regular practice and the opportunity to do it with Saraswathi made me very appreciative.

Through the weeks with Saraswathi she would adjust me in the same poses each day, however, the adjustments themselves changed over time.

In Kapotasana, Saraswathi initially let me do the pose a number of times on my own to allow my back to open sufficiently before she would take my left arm to my heel followed by a somewhat uncooperative right arm. A few weeks later she began taking my right arm into the pose first, followed by the left. It wasn’t long after this that she would show up in front of my mat just as I jumped into the pose, thereby not allowing me to “warm up”.

Through this process of intelligent and intuitive adjustment, Saraswathi showed me that the student needs to be assisted but also challenged. Adjustments are not rote, it is not the same for everyone and it is not the same adjustment repeatedly. In this way the student can be supported in a pose but still do the work necessary for growth.

Saraswathi is one of the few teachers who have been able to fully adjust me in Kapotasana and Karandavasana – her age and height in no way affecting her exceptional ability.

A month ago, it was a tremendous surprise when I found out that we would be with Saraswathi for her birthday. I arranged a cake (eggless, Indian vegan style) and we sang to her after the Saturday led class, the day before her 70th birthday. In the quiet season, with so few students, the memory of this is very special to me.

I am now practicing with Sharath with many, many other students. Saraswathi arrives in the shala around 6:30am when she has finished teaching her class at a shala a few roads up and on some days I am fortunate enough to be adjusted by her in backbends.

My experience has thus far provided me with the best of both worlds – the bustle of the full shala along with the intimacy of the quiet shala.