I’ve noticed an interesting pattern, one that has revealed itself in yoga class.
When an instructor introduces a new pose, as a practitioner, you have a choice: Do you want to attempt the pose, or as one instructor humorously puts it, would you rather watch-asana?
For me and my fellow Type-A yogis, we tend to try, sometimes doggedly, to achieve the next level of a pose. I’ve written before about how yoga is, among other things, a practice in patience. Your body won’t do what it can’t do. Sometimes you have to step back and spend months working on the basics before you can successfully move on to the next level. No amount of forcing or pushing will enable your body to twist or hold that which it isn’t flexible or strong enough to do. At other times, a pose that was accessible yesterday is elusive today. Such are the vagaries of a yoga practice.
What I’m coming to realize is that yoga is ultimately a practice in letting go of your ego. Do I push myself into certain poses because it really enhances my practice, or because I want to prove (to myself or to others?) that I can do it? Yoga makes me feel good and I love the challenge of trying something new, of taking risks in a place where the stakes are low. If I never achieve a handstand hold without the help of the wall, will my life be worse? Would it be better if I could? No. It’s just something to do for fun.
Sometimes, the view of a mountain from a distance is as breathtaking as the view from the peak of that same mountain. Neither view is necessarily better than the other, it’s just a matter of perspective. Part of my practice–on the mat and off the mat–needs to involve deciding what I want to accomplish and what I’m capable of letting go. Some poses will never be accessible to me. I’ll need to be content with watching what is possible for someone else, and taking pleasure in that view, even if it’s a view I’ll never know firsthand.
I love the physical practice of yoga. I love how it makes me feel and I love the strength, balance and flexibility that I’m achieving through a daily practice. This is the first time in my life that I’ve ever enjoyed–craved–a physical activity to this degree. I’ve lost over 50 pounds and I feel like I’m in the best shape of my life. But I’m not in my 20s anymore. I’ve got limitations and I’ve never been particularly good at acknowledging them. Yoga is forcing me to do this, albeit grudgingly.
Intellectually, I know that yoga is about the journey. It’s not about achieving every pose, it’s about exploring your body and your mind as you attempt new things. It’s about getting to know yourself as a learner, a student. It’s about experiencing frustration, risk, satisfaction, discomfort, space and openness in a zone of safety. In many areas of life, we are too invested in the outcome to experience these things because we believe, rightly or wrongly, that if we “fail” (whatever that means), that we’ll let someone down, be perceived as stupid or incompetent, feel embarrassed or ashamed. Yoga is a place where we can experiment with only our own egos as the judge. When we see our egos rear up and take center stage, we are also confronted with the fact that we have the power to let go of it and just enjoy the practice.
For me, this means that I need to treat letting go of my ego as a “pose” in my practice. In other words, something to work on, just like I’m working on my handstand or forearm-stand. I need to practice backing off. Giving myself permission to accept that some poses are not possible in my body–and that some, while perhaps possible with a lot of time and practice, are not ones I need to experience.
Sometimes that mountain is even more stunning and awe-inspiring from a distance than it is from the top.