I
have been back in the USA now for five months and I have been
struggling with my writing for all that time. Several drafts for my
blog sit on my laptop – and most likely they will stay there.
Friends ask about my writing and I make some lame excuses about work
in progress and then change the subject. But now I have just
finished a book, for the second time, and I feel compelled to write
about it.
Allow
me to clarify a possible grammatical confusion: I have actually
finished more than two books in my life. But every now and then I
like to read a book twice to make sure I have got the point. I am
both fortunate to have the time to do that and unfortunate in having
the need to do that. That's both sides of the same coin: aging.
However, back to the book...
The
book is called “Hell Bent: Obsession, Pain, and the Search for
Something Like Transcendence in Competitive Yoga” by Benjamin Lorr.
In my view, this is a well written, thoughtful and relatively
balanced look into the World of Bikram. Lorr relates his experiences
taking Bikram yoga classes, attending Bikram teacher training,
participating in intensive yoga programs involving extensive
back-bending postures (now called “Jedi Fight Club”) and
competing in yoga competitions at regional and national levels. It is
not my intent to provide a review or recommendation of the book, but
the reading and indeed the re-reading has prompted my own thoughts
and provided focus for some of my well established concerns.
Those
of you who have come to my class over the years have heard me talk
about the evil twins of “ego” and “obsession ”.
Maybe I am fortunate in having come into this yoga at an older age
than many people, since my previous life in Corporate America gave me
all the opportunities I needed to massage my ego and explore my
compulsive need for work, both of which provided me with my identity
at the time. I hope I worked all those out of my system before I
stumbled into the hot room many years ago.
Having
made all those mistakes myself in the past, I am sensitive to those
times when one twin or the other forces their way onto the mat,
whether that mat belongs to me or someone else. But should that
happen, I am reminded of the humanity of the yoga. We are engaged in
a very human activity, a reflection of our life outside the hot room,
and that by its very definition will involve both the good and the
not-so-good. Life is full of mistakes, and so is yoga.
When
one twin or the other creeps in, I try to recognize it and then
encourage it to swiftly move on; neither belongs in my practice
today. And while I hope I can say that “ego” never has a
place on my mat, I must acknowledge that “obsession” might
have taken up residence had I been twenty years younger. I like to
think that age has given me the wisdom to keep things in
balance, something I struggled with during all those thirty
years in corporate life.
Balance
involves keeping things in proportion. And for me these days, it
means recognizing the vital place that yoga has in my life – but
it is not everything. Over these recent years, when the Universe has
thrown a few challenges my way, I have recognized the critical role
that yoga has taken on in my life. That job has been repair and
maintenance – first physical, then mental and finally
spiritual. So much happens to my body and mind in just every-day
life: things break, muscles pull, ligaments tear, stress builds,
worries appear, thoughts become confused. All that needs fixing and
my yoga practice is the auto-repair shop where that takes place.
I
have accepted that my practice will probably not get much better, and
I am okay with that. Yoga provides me with a toolkit to keep my
aging body running and in balance. I can pick up that toolkit and
put it down when I choose. Taking a day or two off and resting does
not cause me to feel anxious or guilty. I feel stronger on the mat
when I come back. After all, yoga, like life, is full of restarts.
Each time I come into the room, I am starting over – no
expectations, accepting where I am on that day. I think that is
consistent with the humanity of the practice.
And
have no mistake, this yoga is essentially human, as are the people in
it. As teachers and students, we make our fair share of mistakes.
But never confuse the yoga with the people in it. We are all human
and we will mess up on a regular basis. In the meantime, we have
been given this gift of yoga and the special sequence that makes up
the Bikram class.
This
brings me back to “Hell Bent”. The book gives an insider's view
to the World of Bikram. It is a messy world, the characters are
imperfect, the community has its fair share of the weird and the
wonderful. I recognize so much of what Lorr describes and it is not
pretty. I hope every aspiring Bikram teacher reads this book before
they decide to go to teacher training. And I say that in the belief
that we make better decisions when we are better informed. The book
will inform some; it may deter others; it is unlikely to provide
much encouragement. But as an aspiring Bikram teacher, you will be
less surprised at what the teacher training experience has become.
And then you may be more realistic about your expectations after
teacher training. For many, teacher training equips us to recite,
while actual teaching takes a little longer and may require a lot
more work. That teaching certificate should be just the beginning of
a very humble journey.
Or
maybe you will be attracted by a week or two of intensive
back-bending practice, or by the chance of competing in the yoga
championships. While neither retains much appeal to me, I would urge
you to keep that all in balance. Recognize obsession if it
creeps in to your practice and then decide whether or not you are
comfortable with it; if yes, then learn to live with it and test its
effect on your life at regular intervals; if not, then do not
hesitate to throw it out.
Do
not allow your ego to drive your practice: listen to your
body and let your body drive your practice. That may be different
from day to day. You can still try your best and practice at your
edge if you recognize that edge is a moving line, and
sometimes it moves backwards as well as forwards. Progress does not
often come in the form of a straight line. How many times have you
heard me say “two steps forward and one step back”?
So
I would encourage you to read the book, and then when you come back
into the hot room for your next class, be grateful for that practice,
however imperfect it may be, and then be forgiving of those of us who
are in the business of messing up your class. After all, we live in
a messy world.
