I just finished reading Gregor Maehle's new book Samadhi. In it he describes the eighth and final limb of Ashtanga Yoga. 

It is becoming clearer to me that asana (postures) are a small part of yoga. They are certainly not its goal. They serve the vital purposes of bringing health to the body, allowing us to sit for long periods of time in stillness, and strengthening the body to tolerate the intense energetic effects of Kundalini meditation and samadhi.

Yoga directs us toward understanding the nature of the mind and of consciousness. The 8 samadhis allow us to experience them firsthand instead of simply thinking about them theoretically.

As a yoga teacher in the USA, my teachings are focused around asana. I think this needs to change.

Living in India for a month was a life-changing experience. The act of living in another place, immersed in another culture for more than a few days cannot fail to change a person. It would have changed me equally to live in Ethiopia, China, Russia, Chile or even England.

The most profound of changes occurred because I am a yogi, and I had many preconceived notions of India, the birthplace of yoga. I had my own ideas of what India might be like, how the people might act and live, what it must be like to spend time there. Of course, I was wrong about all of it.

​I thought that India would be a sacred, holy place, full of humble, spiritual people so much closer to God than me or any of us materialistic westerners. What I found was a place similar to my home for the simple reason that it is populated with humans. We are linked by our humanity: our need to survive, care for our family, and find purpose in this life. These human needs link the richest king and the poorest beggar, the sublime holy man and the criminal.

​I thought that everyone in India would practice yoga or at least know what yoga is. This also turned out to be false. Their lack of physical health rivals that of the US. Poor posture, poor breathing, poor nutrition, poor hygiene. I thought they would all be spiritual and holy, unburdened by earthly want. Instead I saw eyes riveted to television 24 hours a day, and daily religious offerings punctuated by the smashing of a chair over another man's head.

Three times I felt afraid for my own safety and that of my loved ones; I was a foreigner whose white skin was offensive and provoking, whose wife's bare shoulders were an outrage.

I thought that poverty was the worst of all fates. How can one live without work and money? How can one be proud without possessions? But I met a man - he served our meals for the entire month we were there - who slept outdoors on a concrete slab, legs draped over his childhood friend who slept close by. This man had the widest, brightest and most transcendent smile I have ever seen. To see him smile and hear him chuckle is to understand the simplicity of joy.

After all, I see the humanity in all of us more clearly. We are so closely related. And I see that the divinity I seek is within myself. I thought it might be in a temple, on a mountain, in a teacher, or in a distant holy land. But it is not in any of those places. It is within.

​I am humbled. I am empowered. I am connected.

I am not
the culmination of my accomplishments
or the sum of my fears.

I am not
the memories of my disappointments
or heartaches.

I am not
my habits, patterns
knowledge or work ethic.

I am not
even my mind
or my own perception of who I am.

Remove it all
until there is nothing left to hold on to.
There I am.

With so much going on in the past few months, I lost track of my practice of surrendering my accomplishments and embarrassments. 

Each night as I lie in bed, I scan my ego for the things I am proud of. I release them, acknowledging that they are not me. I scan for anything I am ashamed of or afraid of and release them too. I become much lighter, much closer to my true self, I believe.

I am not the sum total of my accomplishments or fears. I am something else, perhaps I am nothing more than a construction of my own imagination. This practice of emptying the mind and ego humbles me, gives me perspective and strength to move forward in my life.

Today is the first day of a new era for me. Our books are finally at the printer, so my days of endless proofreading and editing are over (for now, at least). I am returning to my practice with a renewed passion and vigor. 

So much time in the past few months has been spent focused on instruction, both with our books and the regular classes I teach. I have noticed the lack of personal focus, development and progress. I am eager to explore some new depths of myself and continue on my own journey.

I have kept up my practice enough to not slide backward too far, but I can feel the build-up of un-tapped potential. I am so happy and relieved to be returning to dedicated practice.

Also, I hope to return to regular posting here in my online journal!

When we come to our practice each day, it is easy to bring expectations and baggage. What has this practice meant to me in the past? What was I capable of yesterday or last year? What do I expect my performance to be today? This is especially true if we do the same or similar practice each day.

While it is generally desire that brings us to our practice - the desire for fitness, stress relief, spirituality or something else - once we arrive and begin practicing our postures, breathing or meditation all desire and expectation should be discarded. The practice becomes immediate, with complete mental presence in the moment. There is no future and no past, no expectations and no baggage. Only right now, only our body and breath and mind right now.

(Has it really been a month since I've posted?!)

Practicing for myself has always been easy. Who else would I be practicing for? Recently, two developments have unfolded that make it more difficult for me to practice. They are revealing about the ego.

First, I have been teaching more. A lot more. Big classes, small classes, vigorous classes, gentle classes, fast ones and slow ones. Much of my focus is on the students, what they need, and how to communicate effectively with them. Each class needs a different approach, both a game plan beforehand and also the ability to change when things inevitably don't go as planned. 

As I teach more, I also practice more. I demonstrate many things in class and often accompany the students in the postures for solidarity and motivation. I also practice a lot in preparation to teach, to familiarize myself with the movements and breath that I will ask the students to do.

But all this practice is not for me. It is focused on communication and service of my students.

Second, as my personal practice develops it moves inward and out of sight. It still requires time and concentration, even more than before, but Breathing exercises and Meditation are invisible. They don't develop new muscles or fancy new postures. So if I base my progress on my old measures, like growing flexibility and strength, it sometimes feels like I am stalled or sliding backward.

This only means that my relationship to my own practice is changing. It must change if I am to keep moving forward. My measures of progress will have to change, away from depth of stretch and drops of sweat, toward balance of energy, stillness of mind, and awareness and control of breath.

It is not strength in the muscles
Or flexibility in the joints
Or standing on one leg

It is not balancing upside down
Or holding the breath

Stillness
Awareness of every fiber of the body
Every impulse of the nerves
Every beat of the heart
Every twitch of breeze and breath
And stillness

After two weeks of living in hotel rooms, airports, airplanes and cars, I am finally home. I am happiest to see my dog. The challenge of being home is to maintain the passion and dedication to my yoga practice that grew again during my recent dedicated study. It is hard to maintain that focus amidst the commitments, emails, dishes, lawn and countless other things.