intermediate and long-term effects of the practices. We keep an eye on how our practice affects us in the moment, what the effects are the next day, and several days later. We may not be able to see all the effects exactly or specifically, but staying as attentive as possible will go a long way.
I also learned a lot about listening from an Indian yogi in Europe. The yogi was not an advanced Hatha practitioner by ordinary measures—the ability to perform feats of strength or flexibility—but he was truly a master of more important levels of yogic practice. He pointed out that we must balance the inner voice with our intellectual knowledge. One morning he came into the room where we were all going to practice together, did a few stretches, sat for a few minutes, and then got up and left. At lunch I asked him what happened. He said that he felt tired and uninspired so he took a look at it. He “asked his body,” which he said replied that it had a hard and very physical day yesterday with lots of interviews and it needed rest now more than work.He also pointed out that this message could be a sign of laziness so one must look at all levels of feedback and think them through. We should make use of all the capacities available to us, including our minds, intellectual knowledge, and the internal feedback from the body’s intelligence. It is millions of years old, which gives it seniority even to tradition.
The yogi’s behavior contrasts sharply with another experience I had. When traveling I visited a teacher well known for being a strict disciplinarian and for an uncompromising approach. After a morning class he took written questions in a formal way, without any dialogue or interaction. I asked him what he thought of listening to the body’s intelligence. What should we do if one morning we feel our body is telling us to take it easy or take rest? His brow furrowed and he got fiery and intense. He said that he couldn’t believe a “senior” yoga teacher would ask a question like this. He said that if he started his practice and his body told him to rest, he would do a double practice that day. He didn’t ask his body what to do, he
told
his body what to do. Perhaps there are times when an approach like his can be valuable—and it is safer in youth—but in a lifelong practice a more cooperative relationship yields better fruit. There is also another big difference in the two teachers. One is open-minded, willing to listen and dialogue showing humor, happiness, and self-actualization; the other is somewhat self-righteous, authoritarian, and irritable. I do not know which came first, the attitude or the approach, but certainly a rigid practice did not help to soften the second yogi. So I recommend that we learn to work with the balance of control and surrender, internal feedback and external information, and the myriad other polarities in life.
Strength and Flexibility
An important aspect of working with physical polarities is to understand the interplay of strength and flexibility. Our bodies require healthy integration of both in the right balance to function properly. Whenyoga first arrived in the West, it generated an enormous fascination with flexibility, probably due to the exotic pretzel contortions the early yogis demonstrated. Even now, many people associate yoga with flexibility postures. When I mention that I do yoga, a common response is, “Yes, I do some stretching too.” Or conversely, “I can’t do yoga, I’m too stiff.” A yoga practice involves far more than merely being limber. When I first learned Hatha yoga, a great emphasis was put on flexibility. My teacher, a respected yogi from India, rarely emphasized building strength. Instead he focused primarily on attaining the difficult pretzel poses, which were said to have mysterious and mystical benefits. I was an athlete and already fairly strong, but I was very stiff, so the strange positions from India were attractive. We were taught about
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