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utkatasana: daruma doll

Ever felt like a bottom-heavy Daruma doll when you were squatting? Utkatasana can help.

I disliked Utkatasana the first time I tried it.

Wende’s demonstration made it look simple enough: raise your arms, bend your knees and sit back. Simple yes. Easy, no. I was shocked by how hard it was, and how at sea I felt. I didn’t know how to make it better. And that’s were I stayed. I never understood the actions; I just made the movements and suffered through it.

What’s worse, I didn’t really care.

In my mind, Utkatasana (pronounced OOT-kah-TAHS-anna), was a first-syllabus pose, meant for beginners. It had no glamor. What’s exotic about sitting in mid-air? It had no sweetness; none of the surrender of forward bends, the unwinding of twists or the exhilaration of backbends.

Utkatasana was just work and weakness; my own weakness brought home with exquisite clarity, with a little knee pain tossed in for good measure. Yes, I could move from standing, through Utkatasana and into a squat, but the deeper my knees bent, the heavier I felt. And once I was fully squatting, I had no idea how to stand back up again. I felt like one of those bottom-heavy Japanese Daruma dolls, except without the traditional optimism and strong determination.

Lately, though, a light has been dawning.

Malasana from the Yoga Journal

Malasana from the Yoga Journal

My learning arc started with another introductory asana, Malasana, the garland pose, out of which so many other poses grow. Turn it upside down and it’s Apanasana; place your shins on the floor and you’re in child’s pose; slide your hands under your arms and straighten your legs and you’re in Kurmasana. Whenever a pose asks you to take your front groins deep into your body, and simultaneously lengthen your spine, Malasana is there.

And what is Utkatasana except the logical route from standing to squatting, from Tadasana to Malasana and back to standing again? What was it except Malasana, all over again, only with raised arms and straighter legs?

Yes, Utkatasana has plentiful benefits. It improves flat feet. It strengthens your ankles, thighs, calves, and spine and stretches your chest and shoulders. It also stimulates your abdominal organs, diaphragm and heart.

But here’s why I’d urge you to take it on as a Five -Minute Yoga Challenge: if you focus on the actions as you practice, and work with Utkatasana consistently, it will open doors to other poses. This is, after all, part of the genius of the Iyengar method: we learn actions in simple poses, then, once we can perform them, we carry them with us to more complex poses.

Don’t imagine a grim five minutes in the pose, reenacting time spent, back to the wall, knees bent, suffering through high school gym classes. Instead, start with supine Pavana Muktasana to wake up your groins. Then stretch into child’s pose, watching your hip creases recede deeper into your body. Come to standing, then Tadasana, and then bend your knees and take Utkatasana.

If you’re just starting to work with the pose, come up and down several times. Once you feel stronger, as long as your knees are healthy, take your Utkatasana all the way into a squat, and come back up without touching your hands to the floor.

utkatasana to chair seat

Really? Still no chair seat?

Or try sitting back to a real chair. Be sure to start by standing close enough to the chair that you know it will be there for you when you sit down. Now matter how strong you are, I’ll wager that the first time you try it you’ll be asking: “where is that chair, anyway?”

Then play with it. Try, for example, shifting from Utkatasana into Warrior III. All you have to do is keep the actions, raise one leg and lower your torso – magic.

You can find excellent resources for Utkatasana on the web. Check out the asana piece at the The Yoga Journal, and Shiva Rea’s excellent YJ piece called For Beginners: Utkatasana.
For a look at how to protect your knees in the pose – essentially by keeping your weight toward your heels as much as possible, check out Dr.Eden Goldman on How Yogis Made Chair Pose Dangerous.

Here are three essential actions to establish in Tadasana:

• Roll your top back thighs away from each other.
• From the sides, plug your top thigh bones deep into your hip sockets.
• Roll your top buttock toward the floor enough to bring your pubic bone parallel to the wall in front of you. You’ll know that’s happened when you feel your abdomen lift and firm.

And four helpful actions in Utkatasana:

• Bend your knees only slightly to begin with, then sit strongly back. Focus on stretching your inner thighs toward your inner groins.

• Keep your buttocks rolling down and your pubic bone lifted.

• Keep your weight toward your heels.

• As your top thighs sink toward the floor, lift your buttock bones up.

Of all the instructions I’ve read, that last action, which I found in Shiva Rea’s article, has been the most fruitful.

First experiment with sitting back, pressing your hands down on your top thighs and lifting your sitting bones up, and repeat a few times to get the hang of it. In full Utkatasana, activate your sitting bones partway down; don’t wait until you’re at your deepest point.
If you can keep a sense of your sitting bones lifting, no matter how deeply you bend your legs, you’ll be a Daruma doll no more.

Do you have any helpful tips for Utkatasana? Please share.

If this was your kind of post, you might also like:
Use a strap around your hip crease to free your groins: Five Minute Yoga Challenge
Pain or Golden Glow: It matters what you call it
Why is yoga so hard to do?


new question for new year

No, it's usually not this bad, but sometimes it is.

For as long as I can remember I’ve been a sucker for New Year’s resolutions. I always want to improve myself, to trade this very imperfect human being for a new and improved model.
This year, not so much.

I’m happy with my good habits of workday mornings: early rising, breath practice, 500 words on my book project (only 3,000 to go before I have a very rough, very drafty, first draft).

I plan to keep on improving the decisions I make when the choice is: water or something with caffeine in it; going to bed at 10 or staying up late; setting my timer for a pomodoro and standing up when it rings, or letting myself sit at my computer for a hazy, undetermined length of time.

I wasn’t planning any big changes. But then my resolution for 2014 found me.

I looked at my yoga space and wondered: What would happen if I put my props away after every practice?

I already know what will happen if I don’t put my props away, although the picture above, while true and unmodified as of last Friday morning, suffers from seasonal exaggeration.

The table, on its back like a disabled beetle, has a broken leg, discovered on Christmas Day, just as we were preparing for the family’s arrival. Truthfully, there is no other space in the house that’s tucked out of sight of guests, so it went into my yoga space.

new years resollution elvis radio

A closer look at Elvis, now glued back on his base.

The white box to the right of the table holds the Elvis clock radio, one of those joke family Christmas presents passed around with ritual hilarity every year. The Elvis doll had separated from his base. While we were waiting to buy the right glue for the table, it made sense to put Elvis on it. And while the wood glue was out, why not glue the tip of Ganesh’s trunk back on? The space heater, back there behind the stack of wood bricks, was there because the last time I practiced it was very cold. The jumble of straps and blankets is, sadly, pretty much a constant.

Asking what would happen if I put my props away after every practice felt startlingly new.

Here I was, at the turn of the year, not ordering myself around, but instead trying to awaken my own curiosity. It seemed like a promising approach, since the only way to answer the question would be to keep on putting the props away.

“What would happen if?” is a particularly Iyengar yoga question. We are always checking: what would happen if I extended my inner heel in this pose? What would happen if I took my upper arm bones deeper into the sockets? Would it be good? Would it be useful?

When I looked carefully, I noticed that part of my story about what would happen was one of those grand scenarios that so often accompany New Year’s resolutions.

Perhaps that one act of putting my props away would be the key to making me the flawlessly organized person I so long to be. Perhaps putting my props away is the thread I can pull, and keep pulling – not to unravel my world, but to turn it from a ball of frazzle into a neatly wound skein.

But if I became that flawlessly organized person, would I like her? And would she like me? Does she already think I’m lame?

I’m beginning to believe that not carefully asking “what would happen if?” is one reason why 90 per cent of New Year’s resolutions go down in flames every year, usually well before the end of January.
Yes, we want to change, but underneath, we’re afraid of changing too much, too soon.
It’s unlikely that putting my props away will unleash a tsunami of neatness powerful enough to turn me into someone so different that I wouldn’t know myself. Realistically, what will happen is that I’ll vacuum the floor more often, because it will be easier to do.
I suspect I will become, incrementally, just a little neater. It will be, incrementally, just a little easier to settle into practice when it’s time to start.
So I guess I’ll do it and find out.

• • • • • • • • • •

Back in November – really? it was that long ago? – I offered a copy of Sparks of Divinity in exchange for your favorite quote. It was hard to pick a winner, so hard, in fact, that I resorted to writing names on slips of paper, jumbling them up, and picking one at random. The Finger of Fate rested on Susie, who wrote: “A saying that inspires me as I go about my ordinary day:’Do small things with great love.'”
Thank you to everyone who commented.

• • • • • • • • • •

If this was your kind of post, you might also like:

Resolve to be Content: Five-Minute Yoga Practice
Pain or Golden Glow: It Matters What You Call It
How to Turn on Your Willpower and Stick to Your Yoga Practice

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little plastic stool

So lovely. All it needs is an 'I heart little plastic stools' bumper sticker.

It is unlikely that little plastic stools will ever take on the iconic status that’s afforded to chairs in Iyengar yoga. You need only look at Eyal Shifroni’s amazing new book, A Complete Guide to Iyengar Yoga Practice with a Chair, to see in how many ways the little stool would fall short. (And please, if you have any interest in yoga, do order a copy. Mine is already in the mail.)

And yet, and yet, I think we ought to at least make some bumper stickers that read: “I heart little plastic stools.”

Stools are inexpensive, widely available, small, and two take up no more space than one. They also pinch hit as useful objects in everyday life. Outside of yoga time, you can use them to get things down from high cupboards, or to reach just a little higher with the paint roller.

They give great stability in standing poses, and a chance to add more height if needed without creating a shaky tower of bricks. As I’ve already noted on this blog, you can use them to learn correct arm action in full backbend (Urdhva Dhanurasana) or to set up an accessible entry point in Reclining Hero pose (Supta Virasana).

shoulder stand preparation setup

A sticky mat on top of the stool adds protection against slipping.

And when it comes to shoulder stand, little plastic stools can be life changing.

Setting up a shoulder stand preparation on a stool is like doing a ramped-down version of chair shoulder stand. For beginners it has a huge advantage: you don’t have to lower yourself down from the chair seat, a backward leap of faith that brings a chill of fear to many of us the first few times we try it.

Yet you can still experience many of the benefits of chair shoulder stand. You’re upside down, for one thing. And you can take some weight on your shoulders, but not so much that it’s too hard to get your shoulders in place. If you also use a strap, you can also learn how to rotate your upper arms enough that you can begin to bear weight your body weight on the outer edges of your shoulders. As central as that principle is to a safe shoulder stand, it’s not easy to achieve in the full pose.

shoulder stand preparation on a stool entry

Use your hands to support you as you bring your shoulders to the floor.

Best of all, using the stool is a baby step toward shoulder stand that you can practice at home without fear. Nothing could be more useful for releasing your shoulders, changing your mental attitude, and preparing you to learn what is arguably the single most beneficial yoga pose.

What if you already do an independent shoulder stand in the middle of the room, and happily hang off the back of a chair? What does this mini version have to offer you?

You may have heard that shoulder stand teaches Jalandhara Bandha, the chin lock that you need to work safely with seated pranayama. But unless your shoulder stand is very strong, you may struggle for years before the arm action of shoulder stand is really clear in your body. The very top of your upper arm bone needs to move towards the back of your shoulder socket. That pressure down helps you lift your back ribs away from the floor. In essence it’s the same action we explored in staff pose, using the arm action to activate the muscles on the front surface of the shoulder blades.

shoulder stand preparation on a stool for Jalandara bandha

Work to bring weight to your outer shoulders and lift your ribs up and toward your chin.

The stool is especially useful here because you have you have less height under your shoulders than in a chair shoulder stand, which makes it a more accurate image of Jalandhara Bandha. And because you have less weight than in full shoulder stand, the actions are easier to do.

To do the pose:

Set up your mat with a narrow end of the mat touching the wall. Place a stool about a foot (30 cm) away from the wall, with the long end of the stool parallel to the wall. Put a small sticky pad on the stool for extra insurance against slipping, and a shoulder stand blanket, folded horizontally in two on the sticky pad, to pad your pelvis.

Open a shoulder stand blanket and place it on the mat about six inches (15 cm) away from the stool. Fold a shoulder stand blanket in half lengthwise, and place it with the smooth edge facing away from the wall.

Place a strap around the wall side of the stool, with one end accessible to each hand once you lie down.

Now sit on the stool facing the wall. Your knees will be touching the wall. Lean back and bring your hands onto the floor behind you.

Then bend your elbows and slowly bring your shoulders down onto the folded blanket. You may have to adjust the blanket. It should support your shoulders, but not your neck.

‘Take your legs up the wall, and press your heels into the wall.

If you feel uncomfortable in your neck or shoulders, come out and add another lengthwise folded blanket on top of the first, then try again.

Hold your strap and turn your palms toward the ceiling to externally  rotate your upper arms.

Hold your strap and turn your palms toward the ceiling to externally rotate your upper arms.

Once you’re settled, take your awareness to your upper arm bones. Move them deeper into the blanket. Use the leverage of your arms to help you lift your back ribs away from the floor. Your elbows will be off the blanket. Instead of trying to press your elbows down, focus on having your upper arm bones move down.

Strengthen your legs. Roll your front upper thighs inward and spread the skin on the soles of your feet away from the inner arches toward the outer arches.

Wrap your strap around each hand until it’s tight, then roll your palms toward the ceiling. You will feel your biceps rolling out and your shoulders tucking under.

Straighten your legs again, and bring them to 90 degrees, soles of the feet spreading, upper front thighs rolling in.

From the very top of your upper arm, press down into the blanket. Use that pressure to help lift your back ribs away from the floor.

Keep the front of your throat soft.

Set a timer and stay in this position for as long as five minutes. Continue to check on the softness of your face and throat, and the actions in your arms and ribcage.

shoulder stand preparation on stool baddha konasana

Enjoy the feeling of an open ribcage as you relax in Supta Baddha Konasana.

When you are ready to come out, slide backwards so your pelvis rests on the blanket that was supporting your shoulders. Place the soles of your feet together, take your knees apart, and rest in supine bound angle pose (Supta Baddha Konasana).

Photo credits: Photos in the pose by Baya Hammoudi.

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Ninety Days of Shoulder Stand: a Long and Winding Road
Success: 94 Days of Shoulder Stand and Counting
A 30-minute Shoulder Stand Practice to Reverse Late Afternoon Slump


Have you ever read words that changed your life?

Here are some that recently changed mine:

“If doubt arises in your discipline, let it come. You do your work, and let doubt go about its work. Let’s see which one gives up first.”

I still hear the same negative chatter that accompanies any move toward work that’s important to me. But now, instead of arguing, pushing it away, or letting it stop me, I recognize it as the voice of doubt, no matter what the content of the chatter.

I can greet it with friendliness, like you might greet a neurotic neighbor who drops in just when you need to be getting things done.
“Yes,” I say to the voice of doubt, “You go ahead and do your work. I’m busy with mine.”

I found these life-changing words in Sparks of Divinity: The Teachings of B.K.S. Iyengar from 1959 to 1975a collection of quotes from B.K.S. Iyengar all dating from 1959 to 1975, and reprinted in a new edition by Rodmell Press in 2012. (The title is drawn from one of the quotations: “It is through and with your body that you have to reach realization of being a spark of divinity.”)

Noëlle Perez-Christiaens,
one of B.K.S. Iyengar’s first European students,
collected the quotations from classes she took with Iyengar, from letters he wrote to her, and from quotations other Iyengar students had saved.

She published the collection in 1976, in a French and English bilingual edition, with the help of two of her students, Georgia and Philippe Leconte.

sparks of divinity 2Rodmell Press publisher Donald Moyer says that he had approached Noëlle as early as 1993 to do a new English edition. Permission finally came almost 20 years later. The new edition includes Noëlle’s diary from her first visit to India in 1959, and selected excerpts from Iyengar: Un Hindou Mystique Ivre de Dieu (Iyengar: a Hindu Mystic Drunk on God) the biography of Iyengar that she published in 1976.

There are also photos of a young Iyengar and his family, and a dozen stunning photos of Noëlle and Iyengar in asana practice. If you’ve ever wondered about the mysterious woman in the striped bikini in plate 162 in Light On Yogawonder no more. That’s Noëlle.

Light on Yoga is full of pictures of this vintage, but there, he’s posing, presenting a technically perfect image of the asana. In these pictures he’s fully involved, helping his student, or performing the pose with her.

Best of all, thanks to Donald’s careful editing, the quotations are now crisp and lively, no longer littered with typos and mistranslated words. The result is what Donald calls “vintage Iyengar, at his most creative and his most open.”

“With Sparks, you are nearer to the source,” he says. “These insights would be dropped in the middle of a class or come out of a specific situation. He is great at these piercing epigrams.”

Anyone who studies Iyengar yoga knows that the work is always changing and growing – not in its principles, but in their application.

“Just as a painter progresses, a teacher has to progress too,” Donald says. “A teacher is compelled into new exploration to keep freshness in his work, but that doesn’t negate his older teachings. I think there’s value in going back. Picasso’s blue period, even though it came early, is just as masterful as his later work.”

The quotations also show the relationship that Iyengar had with Noëlle, how he treated her as a colleague and a friend.

In Sparks of Divinity, he’s vulnerable; sometimes he’s a teacher with no students showing up. It’s from the time when he was just Mr. Iyengar, and not Guruji,” Donald says.

“That’s what he was when I first met him, and that’s the Iyengar that is still most real to me.”

Donald’s favorite Iyengar quote from the book?
“Your bodies are in the past; your minds in the future. When you do yoga they come together in the present.”

Do you have words you live by? Is there a quotation, from yoga or anywhere else, that changed your life for the better? Tell us what it was, in the comments on this page or on Facebook, and you’ll be entered in a draw for a copy of Sparks of Divinity, courtesy of Rodmell Press.

If this was your kind of post you might also like:

Happy Birthday to the Man Who Changed My Life
How to Turn on Your Willpower and Stick to Your Yoga Practice
Where Do You Find Your Inner Teacher?


For some time now I have suspected that there might in fact be two kinds of people in the world: those who have a natural connection to their core, and those like me, the tap-dancing star on the left, who don’t. I dug that picture out just to confirm that yes, even when I was four, the pattern of a rounded upper back and saggy belly had already found a home in my body.

From the first time a gym teacher had us lie on our backs and slowly lower our legs, I’ve known that my abdominals were shockingly weak. Asana practice has made me much stronger. But if I had to pick a weakest spot, my core would be neck-and-neck for first place with my triceps.

Thing is, triceps aren’t particularly complicated. Abdominal muscles are a different story. In some poses, the actions were clear enough. But in others – Warrior III for example – I knew I was collapsing in my core, but I didn’t know what to do about it.

For the first time ever, I’m beginning to think that might change.

Recently I had what I think of as “the sides of the navel” revelation.

All the poses I’ve been most interested in lately – garland pose (Malasana), boat pose (Navasana), joint-freeing pose (Pavana Muktasana) and ear-pressure pose (Karnapidasana) – have one important thing in common.
They ask for a way of connecting to the abdominal muscles that I’ve never really understood before. And if you don’t connect, it’s hard to strengthen your abdominals.

The sides of the navel:
If you haven’t heard before that your navel has sides, here’s a way to imagine it: think of a line drawn on your skin about an inch away from each side of your navel.
The line has its starting point about two inches below your navel, and it ends about two inches above.
The line, of course, is energetic, not anatomical. It’s a lively, flexible line, capable of moving in two directions: from its lowest point, two inches below your navel, it gently scoops down from the surface of the skin, toward your spine, then lengthens along your spine, up toward your diaphragm.

You can get a sense of it if you set yourself up for pranayama practice with folded blankets supporting the back of your ribcage, but not your lumbar spine – a position in which you can feel the separation of your chest and abdominal cavities.

In this position, you can observe your inhalations, watching the sides of the navel flow inward, toward the spine, and up toward the diaphragm.

In a recent class, Louie linked this inhalation to boat pose, which also requires the sides of the navel to lengthen and moving toward the spine.

strenghten abdominals 1

In a neutral position, feel the sides of your navel drawing in and up.

I was mulling it over a few days later when a light bulb appeared over my head.

I had been focusing on the inhalation – but what about the exhalation?

I found that if I spread the skin of my back body on the exhalation, then the sides of my navel dropped even deeper, and my abdominal muscles spread sideways. If I repeated those actions over several breath cycles, I could feel my back body starting to wrap around, as though it was supporting and strengthening my core.

The Five-Minute Yoga Challenge:

strengthen your abdominals.2

Continue to keep the sides of your navel moving to your spine and lengthening as you draw your knees in.

This Five-Minute Yoga Challenge asks you to use the same breath pattern in a pose that’s much more accessible than boat pose: you lie on your back and draw both knees in toward your chest.

It’s called Supta Pavana Muktasana (supine joint freeing pose) in Lois Steinberg’s Geeta S. Iyengar’s Guide to a Woman’s Yoga Practice, an essential book for any yoga library.

Lie down on your back in constructive rest position, knees bent, heels wider than your toes. Draw your shoulders under and lengthen your lower back.

With your inhalations, lengthen the sides of your navel, both down toward your spine, and up toward your diaphragm. With every exhalation, watch your back body spread on the floor.

Relax and let the rhythm become familiar.

Once you’re comfortable with the movement of your breath, lift your feet away from the floor and bring your knees a little closer to your chest. Be slow.

strengthen your abdominals.3

Keep your breathing soft, your neck and shoulders free from strain as you round up toward your knees.

Over the course of several breath cycles, bring your knees closer, keeping the same breath pattern. No clenching, no strain, just consistent quiet focus on your breath.
Bring your arms around your knees. (You can hold at the back of your knees if compressing your knees is painful.)
Pay attention to the feeling of your back body wrapping around towards your legs and drawing them closer.
Keeping your neck and shoulders quiet, bring your forehead to touch your knees. Stay there and breathe for several cycles, then relax, and repeat.

When you’re done, stretch out in supine mountain pose (Supta Tadasana) to release any tension in your belly.
Stretch your heels away to lengthen your buttocks. Take your arms overhead, palms facing the ceiling, and stretch your back body towards your fingertips.

Work with this at least every second day for a week or two, and you may find a new connection into your core body, something that gives you more strength in a wide range of poses, including, yes, Warrior III.

owards your fingertips. Work with this at least every second day for a week or two, and you may find a new connection into your core body, something that gives you more strength in a wide range of poses, including, yes, Warrior III.

Asana photo credit: Baya Hammoudi

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Twist in a Chair to Free Your Back: Five-Minute Yoga Challenge


The value of knowing what you don’t know

knowing what you don't know

Don't drop that question mark. It might be your most valuable yoga prop.

Last night after class, I asked a student how her home practice was going.

A few weeks earlier, we’d met privately to work out a routine that was specific to her: something short and simple that would address the tight shoulders, hips and hamstrings that were restricting her in the poses.

It turned out she wasn’t all that happy.
I’d suggested rolling on massage balls as the most direct and pleasant route to releasing the tension in her shoulders. They were working just fine.

But something wasn’t right with the standing poses. “I wish they felt more natural,” she said. “I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. I keep wondering – am I supposed to move my hips in Triangle pose in this way?”
At which she gave her pelvis an exaggerated, exasperated swing to the left.

I understood her frustration, but I couldn’t have been more pleased.

This student had made a transition. Alone, at home, grappling with the subtle mysteries of Triangle pose, she had discovered, in detail, something she didn’t know.

In the language of the four stages of competence theory, she had moved from unconscious incompetence to conscious incompetence.

That may not sound like much, but it’s one of the most important signs that someone is on the path to a personal yoga practice and not just wandering the woods.

To ask a question of a pose when you’re alone with it might in fact be the essence of a personal practice.

Yes it’s a long trip from frustration over not knowing how the hips move in a standing pose to arriving at the destination: a laser focus in every pose. But those two states share a genuine awareness that you don’t know it all, and there’s something in particular you’d like to know.

As stages go, conscious incompetence is scratchy, especially at the beginning. When you first turn inward and pay attention, you mostly run up against your limitations. Then, provided you stick with the practice, the poses open up and it feels much better.

With this learning model, no matter how discouraging it is to be consciously incompetent, you always have the third stage, conscious competence, to look forward to.

At this stage you can do at least some of the poses, albeit with effort, and you know a lot about them. It would be the same as having learned to drive a car well enough that you can negotiate city traffic, but you have to use all of your attention to do it.

The fourth stage, unconscious competence, is often compared to the moment when driving has become so automatic that you can drive and carry on a conversation, or listen to a radio at the same time.

I’m not sure this translates all that well into asana practice. No matter how competent we may be, we don’t do an asana in the background of our awareness while turning the focus away from the body and the pose.

Here’s one of B.K.S. Iyengar’s descriptions of what a fourth stage of asana practice might be like:

“While doing the postures your mind should be in half-consciousness, which does not mean sleep. It means silence, emptiness, space, which can then be filled with an acute awareness of the sensations given by the posture. You watch yourself from inside. It is a full silence.”

I found that in my lovely new edition of Sparks of Divinity: The Teachings of B.K.S. Iyengar from 1959 to 1975 by B.K.S. Iyengar (April 24 2012).

It’s a collection of quotations assembled by one of his first European students, Noelle Perez-Christiaens.

I’ve been reading it lately, and I am now full of epigrams. Here’s one I find particularly encouraging:

“You must be as joyful when you fail again and again as you are joyful when you succeed. It is often when you fail that you move toward the goal without being aware of it.”

Makes me want to walk into my uncertainty and practice there.

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virasana roll full pose

That roll between my calves and thighs is a close to magical prop for foot pain, and it helps tight calves and thighs too.

Thirty years ago, when I first started taking yoga classes, Virasana (hero pose) was a 50/50 proposition. Some days it was fine. Sitting up on three chip foam blocks, I could feel a pleasant stretch in the fronts of my feet. My knees didn’t bother me, my front thighs weren’t tight and life was good.
On other days, without warning, one of my arches would cramp.
(I know of two cures for foot cramps. One is to stand up and put weight on the afflicted foot. The other is to sit with the cramp until it goes away. In my experience, the second approach, once you can bear it, gives more long-lasting results.)
After several years of practice, my feet stopped cramping. I took out one chip foam, and there I stayed.
Half lotus became full lotus. Bound angle pose opened and my shins dropped to the floor. My hamstrings lengthened and I no longer needed to sit on a blanket in forward bends.
And yet I still sat on two blocks in Virasana.
At that stage of my practice, I didn’t mind.
Hero pose is one of the first seated poses taught to beginners. Small children do it quite naturally, even if they do sit with their feet out to the side, like this dubiously dressed model, at an angle that’s hard on the knees.
I was working on more glamorous poses, such as elbow balance and headstand, and wasn’t interested in something so seemingly basic.
Besides, besides, when I took out a block and tried to sit lower, I was instantly transported into the land of misshapen ankles that bowed outward, rapidly turned white, and were exceedingly uncomfortable.
It might have stayed that way if I hadn’t started having foot problems: a sprained left toe, and plantar fasciitis, also on the left. In a disturbing and related development, my left leg had suddenly begun to tighten. Leg stretches felt wildly different on the left and the right sides.

Sitting in Virasana with a thick roll between my calves and thighs gave me relief, especially when I also stretched my feet on wood bricks.
The extra pressure into my calves and hamstrings works like a deep massage, and has softened my left leg again. For the tight of hamstring, using a roll in Virasana is a useful way to loosen up.

I still begin most practices in hero pose with a roll, and use the position to centre and quiet myself. The unexpected bonus: slowly hero pose is beginning to change. I understand it better than when I was perched up on blocks. I can see how my groins need to move deeper while my femur heads pull towards each other.

This Five-Minute Yoga Challenge is an excellent way to increase your leg flexibility, reduce any pain in your feet, calves and heels, and remove some causes of knee pain.
If you have an existing knee injury, avoid this pose until your Iyengar yoga teacher, or your physiotherapist, has cleared you to work with it.

Here’s how to set it up:
virasana roll sticky matTake a blanket in shoulder stand shape, and place the long-end fold at the end of a yoga mat. Roll up the mat and the blanket to make a thick, not-too-firm roll.

Have a collection of bricks, foam bricks or blankets close at hand.
Set your timer for five minutes. You can stay for 10 if you like.
Position your legs for hero pose, with your thighs parallel.

To bring the roll as deeply as possible behind your knees, lean forward and bring your head to the floor.
Pull the roll into place. As you begin to sit back, take your hands to your hamstrings and draw them up toward your buttocks.
Then slowly bring your weight onto the roll.

Your buttocks will be suspended in the air. If you’re in some discomfort, but basically okay – you can breathe easily through your nose, and your eyes aren’t popping out of your head – then let your buttocks hang for a moment to see if you descend further. When you’ve reached your limit, take whatever props you need for a comfortable seated position.
The height of support determines the intensity of the sensation.

You can try a wood brick on different levels, a pair of them in different combinations, or a wood brick and a blanket.
Make the pose challenging, but doable. You will feel compression in your calves and the backs of your thighs. Stay with it.
Sit tall. Press your fingertips into the roll, and use your arms to help lift your spine.
To come out, lean forward, and remove the roll.
Then remove the other props and carefully test your hero pose. You may find that you can sit a little lower than your usual setup. Don’t push it. If your feel pain in your knees, or your ankles bow out and turn white, you need to sit higher.
Before you leave your mat, stretch out the backs of your knees in seated stick, downward dog, or standing forward bend.

If this was your kind of pose you might also like:
Find your working place in hamstring stretches
Supta Virasana: Sometimes Even Super-Heroes Need to Lie Down
Television Yoga for Tight Front Thighs


My guide to home yoga practice? On its way.

home yoga practice book.ganesh1

I've taken on a big task, so I'm bringing in reinforcements.

Last Sunday morning before teaching, I was browsing through BKS Iyengar’s Light on Life: The Yoga Journey to Wholeness, Inner Peace, and Ultimate Freedom
looking for a quote about my current practice obsession, the centre line.

I didn’t find what I was looking for, but I stopped in my tracks when I read this:

“I sometimes tell my pupils that the practice they do in yoga class is not, strictly speaking, yoga practice. The reason for this is that in a class, although you are undoubtedly “doing” and, hopefully, learning, you are subordinate to the teacher. The directing intelligence comes from him, and you follow to the best of your ability.

“At home, on the other hand, it is your own intelligence that is the master, and the progress that you make is yours, and will be maintained.”

Ah yes, home practice.

I’ve been meaning to write a guide to home yoga practice for more than 20 years now, prompted by my own experience of how revolutionary just one small practice, pursued daily, could be.

Without a home practice, you remain on one side of the divide, never really claiming the work as your own. Establish a practice, no matter how small, and yoga begins to transform your relationship with your body and your mind.

It’s a bit like someone who wants to play the piano, but can’t maintain a practice: they’ll never be the one playing carols at the Christmas party.

The purpose of my book would be to offer a helping hand to everyone who knows the value of a daily yoga practice, but still finds it hard to do. It wouldn’t be a practical guide, in the sense of detailed descriptions of the poses and tips on how to do them. Instead it would be a practice guide: an aid to starting, maintaining and enriching your practice.

You do indeed meet your Self on the mat, a Friend, if you like, who can be with you even when the day comes when your practice consists only of drawing one conscious breath after another.

guide to home yoga practice: pipal ganesh

Ganesh constructed from leaves of the Pipal tree

In the meantime, what do you do when your Friend stops showing up and your practice turns dry? How do you get over not knowing what to practice and how? How do you tune in to the inner voice that is supposed to guide you?

I doubt that I’m the only one among us who has a book they’d like to write. In fact, as years go by, ideas for books accumulate, and never go away.

I haven’t written this one for all the mundane reasons. I’m too busy. I start and then lose steam. I let other things come in the way. There are other obstacles, of course, pale, crawly things that live under the rock of resistance.

One of them is the voice of doubt, that asks: “Who needs it?“

The answer, of course, is me.

I write about setting up a practice precisely because it doesn’t come easily. I’m not a former gymnast, dancer, or fitness instructor. I live a normal North American life, with a family, a studio to help run, a deep love of food and cooking, a tendency to read late into the night in the grip of a good book, and, to be frank, a love of idleness and lolling around.

But there it was, Iyengar’s pronouncement on the importance of home practice. If I have plans to write a guide to home yoga practice, it seems I ought to get to it.

So I’ve set an intention: over the coming year, I will write at minimum a first draft of a book-length guide to starting and maintaining a home yoga practice.

I’ve been thinking more about this for the past several months, ever since my friend and former editor, Daphne Gray-Grant, started planning a year-long program called Write a Book With Me.

guide to home yoga practice: ganesh riding rat

Ganesh riding his rat.

I’ve written two cookbooks with Daphne’s help and encouragement, Five-Star Food in 1993, and Six O’Clock Solutions in 1995. She was also my editor for most of the food essays Whitecap published as Eating My Words in 2003. I know how useful it is to have her clarity available, and her way of turning mountains into rocks of a quite manageable size.

Prompted by Iyengar’s words, I’m going to jump in, and do the program. (Yes, I get the friend’s rate.)

I’ve already started preparing.

I cleared my desktop, and brought my three favorite Ganesh images together to face me as I write. Auspicious at the start of any new venture, always the remover of obstacles, Ganesh is one of the yogis’ favorite gods.

My Pipal-leaf Ganesh is from a temple in Goa. I bought lounging-on-a-leaf Ganesh in a shop in Pune, a few blocks away from the Iyengar Institute. And riding-on-a-rat Ganesh came from Banyan books, Vancouver’s spiritual bookstore.

Even multiplied by three, he’ll have his work cut out for him. Patanjali, the compiler of The Yoga Sutras, lists the obstacles in the way of yoga practice. They include doubt, laziness and indolence – three of my specialties.

In fact, I’m thinking of adding Saraswati for backup. She’s the goddess of wisdom, whose symbols include an inkpot with pen and books.

In the meantime, I plan to post here every two weeks. And I’ll let you know how it’s going with the book.


How do you end a practice break?


It's time to come inside now. Your mat is waiting for you.

Surely one of the most unfair parts of being human is that good habits are hard to form and easy to lose, while bad habits rub against your ankles like cats who’ve just heard a can opener.

I could blame renovations, house guests who have nowhere to sleep but my practice space, early morning ferry rides, summer weather that begged me to be outside, a break from my normal routines.

Or I could point the finger at August: languid, lazy, a foe to every form of discipline that exists.

The truth is, my practice has been spotty since the end of July, and “why?” doesn’t matter.

Usually September is enough to get me back to a regular practice. As soon as Labor Day arrives, I’m in back-to-school mode and ready to go. And once I start teaching, steady practice is guaranteed.

But what if you don’t have an external prompt? And what if your September weather, internally and externally, is doing a great impersonation of August, still hot and dry?

Years of getting back on the practice bicycle have led me to develop a few time-tested strategies for ending a practice break:

Clean your practice space and lay out your mat.
If you’ve been away for a while, declutter, sweep the floor and dust. Make the space as inviting as you can, with as few obstacles to starting as your living arrangements allow.

Set an intention the night before and get up and practice first thing.
At the best of times, practice deferred often becomes practice denied. If you’re in a practice slump, any activity that can will insert itself between you and your practice.

Centre in a quiet position before you start moving through poses.
This is an important step in any practice, but if you’ve been away from your mat for several weeks, take a little extra time to still your mind and connect with the sensations in your body. Remind yourself why you’re there, and spend a moment being grateful: you live in a world in which good teaching is widely available; you’ve had the innate wisdom to turn toward yoga, you are free to practice.

Make your first practice gentle and exploratory.
Put your legs up the wall and do all the leg actions of Dandasana (stick pose), just in a different relationship to gravity. Roll on massage balls and come into supported bridge pose. Do leg stretches interspersed with supine mountain pose with your arms overhead. Then slowly move into standing poses, taking your quiet intelligence with you. End your practice with some version of shoulder stand, and Savasana.

If distraction is your enemy, set a strict limit on the amount of time you have to practice. Instead of imagining that you’ll do a two-hour practice, and then telling yourself you don’t have the energy, limit yourself to 15 minutes, or, if you’ve learned the joys of the Pomodoro system, to 25. And if that still seems like too much, tell yourself you’ll just do five minutes – but do it every day.

Enlist a practice buddy.
I spent one morning last week catching up with Baya. Yes we chatted, about how we spent the summer, but we also practiced, with more energy than I could summon to work on my own.

Go back to class.
It may be that what you need is a leap into the deep end of the pool. Once you connect again to how good you feel during and after class, you’ll be more motivated to find that sense of well being every day.

I’ve been attending Elise Browning Miller’s workshop on Yoga and Scoliosis this week.
Being in the presence of a master teacher was not only inspiring, it’s given me new ideas to explore and a multitude of actions and understandings to test out in many poses.

Fall is here, and I’m delighted to be back.


Ladybug, Ladybug, fly away home . . .

Distinctly non-funereal flowers in the bold colors Ann loved

My sister Ann passed away on Good Friday. Her memorial service was a week ago today.

I wanted to give you that news and thank you for all of the support you’ve given me, both in comments and in emails. It truly helps, in the misery of loss, to feel the presence of sympathetic people who wish you well.

I am doing fine, as these things go. I’m back to teaching this week, and back to taking classes.

But I’m not ready to write again, at least not regularly. For the next three months at least, I’m taking it easy and thinking things over.

For a while now I’ve been wanting to reorganize this website, to make the more than 160 posts more organized and accessible. So I’m going to work on that. From now on, I’ll be showing up on Facebook, just to keep in touch.

I also want to think about what Ann meant to me, and how I want to honor her memory.

My big sister had her own nursery rhyme:
“Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home. Your house is on fire, your children will burn – all except for little Ann, who’s hidden under the frying pan.”

I was so envious, and yet I never thought to find out who made it up.

When she was five, she went out with Dad and his buddy Jack Sheen and came home with a chocolate rabbit as big as herself.

When she was eight, she broke into the nearby children’s polio hospital to sit in the painted wooden teacups – by far the most appealing toys in the neighborhood – and was immediately evicted by the horrified staff, despite the sheets she and her friend Olive brought with them as they scaled the chain-link fence, hoping to pass themselves off as little patients.

I used to stare at those teacups too. But when I see a chain-link fence, I think that I’m not meant to be on the other side.

When Ann saw chain-link, she climbed. At least in the beginning. Then something happened, sometime in her forties. She seemed to give up on the possibility of happiness. In one of those odd twists of fate, Alzheimer’s softened her and made her more easy-going and affectionate.

I have written jokingly that yoga wrecked my life.

In truth, yoga keeps me from falling into the family default of helplessness and despair. It’s a vantage point, born, I believe, from fear, fear that life isn’t good, and that if we recognize our good fortune and claim happiness, it will be taken away from us.

Yes, people get old and sick and die. Yes, evidence quickly massing around me says that my body is aging, and yes, someday, I’m going to die. I still think it’s possible to be happy most of the time.

For the past month I’ve been reading and delighting in the poetry of Kay Ryan.

This one, called Age, is one I’m memorizing, hoping to “kinden” as I go:


As some people age
they kinden.
The apertures
of their eyes widen.
I do not think they weaken;
I think something weak strengthens
until they are more and more it,
like letting in heaven.
But other people are
mussels or clams, frightened.
Steam or knife blades mean open.
They hear heaven, they think boiled or broken.