The End of An Era, I think

For my non-yoga pals, this post is going to seem kind of dumb. But for those in the know, it's a big "step" (though some might characterize it as a "misstep"). I think I am done with Ashtanga - at least for the foreseeable future. I have struggled with this for almost two years now and it occurs to me that the practice just doesn't serve my body anymore.

Those who knew me as a yoga teacher can attest that I followed the "bible" of Ashtanga. For about seven years, it served me very well. But, my body is in a place where it doesn't work for me anymore. It might be a function of grad school - all the sitting and the stress that I carry in my shoulders. It might be a function of they way it cultivates particular parts of my practice - my abnormal musculature for a gal of my size (really, I'm a powerhouse). But since I've stopped practicing Ashtanga, my yoga teachers, my chiropractor, my shiatsu therapist have independently noted that my body is different in that it is more mobile and free. A softening has occurred.

While this may seem like a "so what" post, this decision has not come without its controversy and some hand wringing on my part. On broader scale, my studio is embroiled in a debate, one that is inscribed on my body - to be or not to be an ashtanga studio, or at least a "traditional" one. For those familiar with the culture, there is a brutality in the taking of sides and I feel like my body is microcosm or a site on which that debate is taking place. I am being pulled aside and asked why I am not practicing traditionally anymore. I am being lured to a gamut of studios promising traditional instruction. I am being asked to confirm my affection for the practice. Yesterday, I decided to practice primary to see how I felt. I stopped at Marichyasana C. I just don't like it anymore. It feels like its doing more harm than good.

That said, by golly I miss it. It is such a wonderful practice. It's a mindset, a meditation. It's a structured subculture. It's beautiful, frankly, a lovely brutality. In a conversation I had yesterday with a practitioner, he said he asked one of the teachers, a follower of the tradition, "when does it stop hurting?" His answer - "Never. It's supposed to hurt. That's how you know you are growing." Yikes.

That said, there are some people for whom the practice is tailor-made for their bodies. People who possess that amazing combination of strength and flexibility who progress in the practice, who move through the series with aplomb, who need no other kind of yoga to cultivate the necessary ingredients for a perfect dropback or a lovely kapotasana (see below).

For me, though, it seems like I am pushing my body in a direction it doesn't have the "softness" to go into these advanced poses. And I don't want to forward fold for the rest of my days, nor do I want to hurt anymore. I want to go into a studio and cultivate a practice that feels right for me, on that day, in that space. But, again, I mourn the loss of this thing that has kept me sane for so many years. Yet yoga, especially ashtanga, is supposed to cultivate adherence to the sutras. I am now really practicing my ahimsa, aparigraha, and santosha. Something about that actually feels pretty freeing.