edition no. 7, 8.21

 

It’s August—do you hear the cicadas singing? If you studied their life cycle, you know that they spend a significant part of their lives underground, tunneling about and feeding on roots. But one day, their way of life totally changes. Cicadas aren’t the only beings that experience transformation. Once we began a yoga practice, our lives changed—not once and for all, but in an ever-evolving realization of our true selves. Are we ever confined to the dark earth, or do we recognize ourselves as higher, brighter beings? It takes a long time to work out who we really are, and to know that who we thought we were is temporary. Our time on the mat is a warmup for what’s next.

 

 

Metamorphosis

 

In cicada season, small brown husks

line the door frame, clinging with once-animated

sticky claws until the wind shakes them off.

 

With what great effort did the nymphs dig out

from the mute ground, clamber up that vertical plane,

and squeeze out of their armor in the bat-dark night?

 

Then to unfold their crumpled, untested wings

and take their chartless first flight to the trees,

where they fill the sky with their singing.

 

Life is a series of second skins that crack away.

Every body on earth is a shell for the spirit.

It’s not the you or me we leave behind.

 

 

Irene Alderson,

Editor

 

 

Ellen Lasner

Home:  Golden Valley, Minnesota 

Years with Iyengar Yoga:  5

Fun fact:  When I was a little girl, I wanted to be Julie Andrews when I grew up. I longed for a career in musical theatre. When I got to college, I took my first modern dance class, and from then on became a dancer. I studied, performed, choreographed and taught for about 12 years.

How would you like our IYAUM community to grow? 

I would love to see IYAUM offer free “meet and greet” events to attract a more diverse membership. Teachers would introduce new or potential IYAUM members or those who have not felt connected. The events could include a class followed by social time afterwards.

Over 20 years ago, my first yoga teacher compared the practice of yoga to peeling an onion—there are always deeper layers to be revealed. I recently shared this with my current teacher, Shannyn Joy Potter. Shannyn looked me straight in the eye and said, “Yes, and eventually the onion sprouts.” I have been studying Iyengar Yoga for the past five years and have tasted moments of “sprouting” in this wonderful supportive practice.

 

I have a very rich and full life. After I stopped dancing, I spent the next two decades raising my children and establishing my career as a makeup artist. During that time, I took up strength training and running, and eventually tried yoga. Yoga felt like coming home. I studied Anusara Yoga, which was based on Iyengar Yoga, for 15 years. About six years ago, my Anusara teacher took our class on a field trip to experience rope walls at William Prottengeier’s studio in the Ivy building. I remember feeling very intimidated, but also intrigued by William. About a year later, William became my teacher. He challenged me to explore my āsana practice differently. I studied yoga philosophy, meditation, and prāṇāyāma under his expert guidance. I also enrolled in his teacher training, which taught me many things—including the realization that I did not want to teach yoga.

 

One day, Shannyn subbed for William. I knew very quickly that she would also be my teacher, and I have studied with Shannyn for the past three years. My practice grows more steadily under her insightful instructions. I recently had the privilege of being on my very first yoga retreat with her and fifteen other students. There, for the first time, I experienced being part of the Iyengar Yoga community. Although I’m a dedicated Iyengar student, I have not felt connected to the IYAUM community. At the few events I attended, I felt like everyone knew everyone else and I was on the outside looking in. I believe that “meet and greet events” (described at the beginning of this article) could grow and strengthen IYAUM, making it more welcoming to all.

 

We are cautiously emerging from a year and a half of our pandemic way of life. Despite all the challenges, fears, losses, and isolation, that time also offered gifts. One of the most significant for me was my yoga practice. I sought and found refuge on my mat. I am retired, so I was able to spend long periods of time deeply absorbed in practice. Zoom classes became a way to be connected not only to my teacher, but also to teachers from across the world. My practice has become more focused, my commitment deeper. Practicing Iyengar Yoga is teaching me to be more present, both on and off the mat. It helps me grow physically, mentally, and spiritually as the layers unfold. 

 

Many of us in the Twin Cities have heard William say, “stay in the pose until you are ridiculously happy.” I have started to experience that in my practice. I set up and align myself in the pose. I breathe. I find stillness. I stay.

 

 

 

 

Sālamba Sarvāṅgāsana (Supported Shoulderstand)

By Mona McNeely, CIYT

Sālamba:  Supported or propped up

Sarva:  All, whole

Aṅga:  Limb or body

Sālamba Sarvāṅgāsana:  All limbs supported 

 

Sālamba Sarvāṅgāsana quickly became one of my favorite asanas.  When I first began to practice this pose, I would exit it with a heavy feeling in my chest, and I did not experience the lightness or calm that I later came to delight in.  Thankfully, one of my first teachers adjusted me so that I was able to access the tops of my shoulders and press my hands against my back to open my chest. I then learned to use my legs and extend upwards, and I no longer came out of the pose feeling heavy and uncomfortable.  I understood the significance of alignment, and that was a changing point in my practice. 

 

Sālamba Sarvāṅgāsana often starts the beginning of restorative poses at the end of a rigorous practice.  When I hear a teacher announce that we should set up for Sālamba Sarvāṅgāsana, my mind and body immediately calm down and a sigh of relief can be felt, if not heard, throughout the classroom.  As I kick my legs over into Halāsana and press my hands against my back, I adjust my body so that I am on the very tops of my shoulders, and I welcome that feeling of coming home to a familiar pose, ready to receive all that it has to offer.

 

The following are benefits of Sālamba Sarvāṅgāsana as listed in B.K.S. Iyengar’s Yoga: The Path to Holistic Health: 

  • Alleviates hypertension

  • Relieves insomnia and soothes the nerves

  • Improves the functioning of the thyroid and parathyroid glands

  • Alleviates asthma, bronchitis and throat aliments

  • Improves bowel movements and relieves colitis

  • Helps treat colds and sinus blockages

 

Geeta Iyengar wrote in Yoga: A Gem for Women: 

“Sarvāṅgāsana is one of the most beneficial of all the āsanas. If Śirṣāsana is King, Sarvāṅgāsana is the Queen of all the asanas. Where Śirṣāsana develops the manly qualities of will-power, sharpness of the brain and clarity of thought, Sarvāṅgāsana develops the feminine qualities of patience and emotional stability.  It is considered to be the mother of āsanas.”   

 

Instructions from Yoga in Action: Preliminary Course:

  • Lie on your back with your shoulders on a spread blanket and head on the floor.

  • Have the arms straight by the sides, elbows straight, hands extending towards the feet.

  • Roll the shoulder bones back and down, the shoulders should be away from the head.

  • Bend your knees towards the chest.

  • Now, press the hands down and swing the legs above the head.

  • Raise the hips and trunk up perpendicularly, the chest comes to touch the chin.

  • Support the back with the palms of the hands, pressing the upper arms down.

  • Raise the hips further.

  • Straighten the legs.

  • Stay in this position for a minute in the beginning with even breathing. Later, increase the duration from three to five minutes.

  • Exhale, release the hands and gradually slide down.

 

 

References

Iyengar, B.K.S. Yoga: The Path to Holistic Health. London, 2001.

Iyengar, Geeta. Yoga in Action:  Preliminary Course I. Mumbai, 2000.

Iyengar, Geeta. Yoga: A Gem for Women. Spokane, 1990.

Mehta, Silva, Mira & Shyam. Yoga: The Iyengar Way.  London, 1990.

Self and self

By Joy Laine, CIYT

Two birds, close linked companions,

Cling to the self same tree;

Of these the one eats the sweet fruit,

The other, nothing eating, looks on intent.

On the selfsame tree a person is plunged into grief

Mourning his lack of mastery,

Perplexed;

When he sees the other, the Lord, rejoicing

In his majesty, his sorrow melts away.

Svetasvatara Upanisad IV.6-7

(translated by R.C.  Zaehner, Hindu Scriptures)

 

“Who are you?” How would you answer this question? I might say things like: “I’m a yoga teacher,” “I’m a mother,” or “I’m a woman in my sixties” and so forth. All of us could come up with many such “I am……” statements, and the more we repeat them, the stronger we tend to identify ourselves with them. They define how we see ourselves and give us our sense of personal identity. Patañjali believes that by doing this we are in danger of falling into an existential ignorance about our essential nature, and this is the fundamental cause of our suffering.

 

Last month we looked at the second step in Patañjali’s fourfold diagnostic model of healing, namely, the cause of suffering. We have been working our way through sūtras 15-28 in Book Two of the Yoga Sūtras, in which Patañjali gives us an overview of these fourfold steps, namely, the nature of suffering, its cause, its cure and finally, a treatment plan. In II.24, Patañjali tells us that ignorance (avidyā) is the cause of our suffering and hence the third step, the cure, follows logically—that if we remove the ignorance then we remove the suffering. Although we began to explore the nature of ignorance last time, we still need a fuller understanding of the psychological reality of avidyā and the role it plays in human suffering. We can do this by going back to the opening sections of Book Two, where Patañjali explores the nature of ignorance from more of a psychological perspective. This will be our focus for this month.

 

At the beginning of the second pāda (II.3), Patañjali lists five psychological afflictions (kleṣa) which pervade human experience, and ignorance heads the list. The five afflictions are:  

 

(i)             avidyā (not-seeing, ignorance)

(ii)            asmitā (I am-ness/ego)

(iii)           rāga (desire)

(iv)           dveṣa (aversion)

(v)            abhiniveśa (clinging to life, fear of death)

 

 

Patañjali presents these five afflictions as a descriptive and factual truth about human existence. These afflictions are the “default” setting for all human beings at their birth. They are not a collective punishment, nor are they the consequence of something done long ago by distant ancestors, as is the case with the idea of “original sin.” Neither Patañjali nor the commentators attempt an explanation for their existence, but merely describe them as beginning-less – this is just how we are. They are not intrinsic to the human condition, however, since they can ultimately be overcome through practices such as yoga. Collectively, these afflictions pervade human experience and shape how we act. In so doing, they bind us to a world of suffering.

 

By exploring the ways in which the afflictions are expressed in human action, we get to the heart of Patañjali’s understanding of suffering. Ignorance was given as the root cause of suffering because it is the cause of the connection/confusion between the Seer and the seen. In the context of the kleṣas, ignorance appears as the first in a list of five psychological afflictions, a positioning that is no accident. Sanskrit philosophy is permeated by lists of things – it is a way of ordering/categorizing the world. In any list, it was a common practice to place the most important item first, and in his list of kleṣas, Patañjali follows this practice. Indeed, he tells us in II.4 that ignorance is the most important of all of the afflictions and is the hatching ground for the other four. If we look at the list of the afflictions, we can see that there is a cascading effect from one to the next. The list of the kleṣas really tells a story of the psychological repercussions of our metaphysical and existential confusion of Seer and seen. In following the ripple effect of ignorance in our psyches, we will understand how ignorance brings about suffering.

 

In II.5, Patañjali defines avidyā as mistaking the transient for the permanent, the impure for the pure, that which suffers for that which is joyful, and not-Self for Self. This is another, more detailed way of saying that ignorance causers a confusion between seen and Seer, or between the material (prakṛti) and spiritual aspects (puruṣa) of our existence. The Seer is eternal, pure, free of suffering and the real Self, whereas all other aspects of human life are not so.

 

Avidyā spawns the next affliction, asmitā (egoism), which is the initial and primary way that avidyā manifests in our psyches and creates suffering. It does this for two main reasons. First, the ego-self is where we are most likely to fall into an existential ignorance, to confuse the transient with the permanent (etc.), and to believe that the ego-self is who we really are. Second, the ego-self motivates us to act in ways that are more likely to cause us to suffer. 

 

What does Patañjali mean by egoism? “Asmi-tā” literally means “I am-ness,” the feeling that we have of being an “I,” of being at the center of our lives. Asmitā is described by Patañjali as conflating the Seer with the instrumental power of seeing. The ego is the instrument through which we interact with the world. We all function in the world on the basis of our human cognitive and physical capabilities and a sense of who we are, distinct individuals separate from other individuals. As I go about my business in the world, for example, I do so with a sense of my place in the world, what I am capable of, how others will see me, etc. All of this, broadly speaking, falls under the umbrella of my ego-self.    

 

There is nothing wrong with the ego per se. Indeed, it is a necessary tool of survival, the way in which we are able to come to know the world and interact successfully with it.  It is why I eat when I’m hungry. Egoism is the affliction that arises when we equate our identity with this instrumental part of ourselves and allow our existence to become ego-centric. If we do this then we have equated ourselves with something that is impermanent. By casting our lot with the ego-self, we are putting ourselves on a path that will inevitably cause us to suffer. Furthermore, if we identify with the ego-self, we will be less likely to look more deeply into ourselves to see if there is anything beyond the ego-self.     

 

There is a clear connection between this idea and the opening sūtras of the Yoga Sūtras: 

 

yogaś cittavṛtti nirodhaḥ.

Yoga is the stilling of the turnings of the mind.

tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe’vasthānam.

Then, the Seer will be established in its own true nature.

vṛrti-sārūpyam itaratra

Otherwise, there will be an identification with the turnings of the mind. (I.2-4)

 

 

In these sūtras, Patañjali defines the practice of yoga as a practice which will allow the Seer to be established in its true nature. The practice of yoga will allow us to experience ourselves in a new way. Patañjali’s promise at the beginning of the text is that if we succeed in the practice of yoga, then we will experience a deeper sense of Self that lies beyond the ego-self and is free of its imperfections. The existence of the Seer is not something that has to be taken on faith, but is something that can ultimately be experienced by each one of us.

 

When we view ourselves through the spectacles of the ego-self, we feel happy with our successes but saddened by what we view as our failures. Our sense of self-worth will wax and wane along with how well we judge our lives to be going. As Patañjali states in I.4, if we are unable to experience ourselves in a more transcendent way, we will identify with whatever mental state we happen to be in at any given time. We can relate this to the question posed at the beginning—“Who are you?” If I equate myself with being a yoga teacher, or with being a mother, or a woman in her sixties, then what happens when these things may no longer accurately describe who I am? Change is intrinsic to the material world, and as our lives move through time, things that once gave us a sense of our identity may no longer hold true of who we are.

 

When we view the world wearing the spectacles of the ego, then the whole world becomes oriented around the needs, the likes and dislikes of the ego-self. It is all too easy to fall into making our ego-self the focal point from which we experience the whole world. Egoism then spawns the terrible twins of aversion and desire. “I am…” statements all too easily translate into “I want …” statements. We navigate our lives through this binary of polar opposites, trying to acquire that which we desire and avoid that which causes us pain.

 

The classical commentators tell us that satisfying one desire is like throwing fuel onto a fire, for a new and even stronger desire will spring up to take its place. Today I may want a new car, tomorrow I will want an even bigger and better car. We can never find peace or lasting happiness by following the road of trying to satisfy the ego’s desires, for they are insatiable. Desire and aversion may be the products of the ego-self, but they are also its fuel, strengthening the hold of the ego-self on our existence. The fifth affliction, a fear of death, is a strong and natural fear that arises from our identification with the ego-self, with that which is subject to change, decay and ultimately extinction. The ego-self arises from the material world and so will at some point dissolve back into the material matrix from which it came.

 

We currently live in a culture that provides the individual with multiple tools for constructing an elaborate ego identity; for example, through numerous social media outlets. We also live in a culture where enormous resources are invested to escalate and feed the desires of the ego-self. Indeed, our very culture seems to be designed to reinforce an identification with the ego-self, at a time when empirical studies show that this does not make us happy and content. We do best when we direct our efforts outwards, pursuing projects for their own sake and caring for others. Egoism is not an effective strategy to avoid suffering in our lives.     

 

We cannot, however, discount the importance of the ego-self and the impact that our social identities have on us. Patañjali teaches a distinction between a transcendental Self (puruṣa/Seer) and the ego-self, and teaches that human suffering arises when we equate our existence with the ego-self. Puruṣa is a transcendent Self beyond identity markers such as gender, race or social class. As transcendent Selves, the differences between us dissolve. This poses challenges for us. One challenge is how to reconcile the value placed on the transcendental Self with the fact that we also value and love particular people for who they are as distinct individuals. Secondly, we cannot discount the importance of our social identities and bypass or dismiss the impact that they have on our lives. For example, following the path of yoga does not necessarily imply that we can ignore questions of social justice in the pursuit of Self-Realization.          

 

Next time, when we examine the fourth step in Patañjali’s fourfold model of healing, the practice of yoga, we will have an opportunity to explore the relationship between the two Selves (Self and self, puruṣa and asmitā) in more depth.

 

 

Joy Laine teaches philosophy at Macalester College and Iyengar Yoga around the Twin Cities.

 

 

Sources and Further Study 

B.K.S. Iyengar. Light on Life, especially Chapters Three and Six. In Chapter Three, Guruji explores the emotional disturbances that arise from the kleṣas.

 

Narasimhan, Popsi. The Yoga Sūtras: A Collection of Translations. (Popsi Narasimhan, 2018).

 

Zaehner, R.C. Hindu Scriptures. (University of California, 1996).

 

2021 IYAUM Board of Directors

President: Nancy Marcy

Vice President: Nancy Footner

Treasurer: Julie Sybrant

Secretary: Katharine Wood

Membership: Bethany Valentini

Media & Communications: Shannyn Joy Potter

IYAUM Liaison to IYNAUS: Susan Johnson

Contact:  iyengaryogaaum@gmail.com

 

IYAUM Committee Newsletter

Editor: Irene Alderson

Visuals: Shannyn Joy Potter

Contact: news@iyaum.org

 

Iyengar Yoga Association of the Upper Midwest

P.O. Box 582381 Minneapolis, Minnesota 55458

IYAUM.ORG