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IYNAUS is pleased to share On the Light, Susan Johnson's podcast, twice each month here on Substack. Subscribe so you never miss an episode as we explore the teachings, history, and legacy of B.K.S. Iyengar through conversations with respected teachers, practitioners, and members of the Iyengar family.

In this episode Susan is joined by Gulnaaz Dashti, a dynamic and seasoned Iyengar Yoga teacher at the Ramamani Iyengar Memorial Yoga Institute in Pune.

Gulnaaz Dashti’s immersion into the world of yoga began in 1990. She was encouraged to come to the Institute by her brother, Ali. On that day, Gulnaaz embarked on a path that would shape her life in profound ways.

Here, Gulnaaz explains how Guruji was able to teach to the caliber of each student in front of him, and how Geetaji helped her in a motherly way to understand her father’s teachings.

Additionally, Gulnaaz shares some tender memories of Guruji outside of the practice hall.

Please enjoy Gulnaaz Dashti on this episode of “On the Light”

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Listen now

IYNAUS is pleased to share On the Light, Susan Johnson's podcast, twice each month here on Substack. Subscribe so you never miss an episode as we explore the teachings, history, and legacy of B.K.S. Iyengar through conversations with respected teachers, practitioners, and members of the Iyengar family.

In this episode Lee and Susan are honored to be joined again by Prashant Iyengar. Here, Prashantji shares the fascinating arc of Guruji’s practice. He tells how Guruji initially learned the asanas, drawing solely from his own personal experimentation. Through Prashant’s narrative, we gain a deeper understanding of Guruji’s relentless dedication to perfecting each posture.

Additionally, Prashant sheds light on how Guruji came to write his seminal work, “Light on Yoga.” He shares the profound realization Guruji had about the depth of knowledge he needed to acquire before undertaking such a monumental task.

Please enjoy On the Light.

If you enjoy this podcast and would like to support its continued production, please consider making a donation to On the Light.

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As a yogasana (posture) practitioner and a yoga teacher, managing injuries has taught me a valuable lessons. I have been injured many times. Fortunately, none of my injuries were serious, but even minor injuries required time to heal. My injuries sometimes derailed day-to-day functioning and disrupted my mental peace.

For example, while manually operating my garage door, I overestimated the dexterity in my left thumb and index finger, which resulted in a left wrist injury.

When the pain started brewing in my wrist, I neglected it, thinking it was only temporary. I pushed through all my arm balancing posture practices, because I have always been enchanted by the experience of lifting myself effortlessly into space through a handstand. Sometimes, in my own enthusiasm and desire to achieve more I, like many of us, tend to overlook humility in my practice. Our revered Guruji, yogacharya B.K.S. Iyengar once said, “Pain is the teacher” 1 . Pain teaches us myriad lessons. One such lesson is: if we experience pain in our body and it does not go away in a few days, it is “bad” pain. It needs attention and care. Pushing through pain is not a wise idea.

As I continued pushing through asanas, the pain in my wrist worsened. Finally, I consulted my physician and an orthopedic doctor. The diagnosis: carpometacarpal arthritis (an arthritis which affects the thumb joint, where the metacarpal bone meets the carpal bone of the wrist), and it is not reversible. The doctor suggested I go to physiotherapy, and my yoga teacher barred all weight-bearing and wrist-straining asanas from my practice.

For some of us, our desire to be the best blinds us from reality. Carpometacarpal arthritis is not a life threatening or disabling injury, but it took its toll on me. I continued practicing and teaching mindfully, but avoiding postures that required bearing weight on my hands caused depressive moods. I love learning, practicing and teaching the divine art of yoga, but it felt burdensome. I had to train myself to be grateful, humble, and to practice only appropriate asanas, especially when I attended yoga classes.

It was difficult to be content with my new modifications while everyone else was doing arm balancing postures. When others were planting their hands firmly on the ground and lifting their feet up into freedom, I had to counsel myself to ground my feet firmly and place my hands intelligently onto the wall to do alternative postures. I had to divert my thinking from my energizing practice of the past (photo 1) to now staying in the present, as I made appropriate adjustments and mindful observations. I learned to turn my obsessions into observations, my feelings of humiliation into humility. We all thrive on competitive urges, appreciation, and positive affirmations. This injury exposed my inner feelings, my own nature, and the human desires dwelling in me. My consciousness pushed me to take corrective actions. I needed to take measures to find relief from the pain to make way towards healing.

I began physical therapy. My physiotherapist taught me exercises to help with recovery. The exercises and a warm wax bath helped alleviate the pain in my wrist. I religiously practiced these exercises. Nevertheless, the injury still disrupted my regular practice of asanas. As I was grappling with the effect of physiotherapy exercises, I also decided to come up with a remedial yoga practice to recover from this injury. Prashant Iyengar, son of Yogacharya B.K.S. Iyengar, once gave his perspective on physiotherapy, which I’ll paraphrase: “In physiotherapy, the injured part works for itself, but in yogasana practice the injured part works for the whole body and the whole embodiment works to heal the injured part.”

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, a French writer, said “a goal without a plan is just a wish.” Similarly, a plan without action is just a dream. Therefore, I laid out a customized sequence of asanas for practice based on my teacher’s advice and my personal experience with remedial asana practice and teaching. My strategy was based on the teachings of Guruji who once said, “One asana cannot cure a disease. So, groups of asanas evolved. We have to address the surrounding organs to attack the main organs.” It is important to work gradually from the periphery to the affected area. First, use pain relief measures, then, address the surrounding areas of the affected part, and lastly, address the area affected with an appropriate sequence of asanas.

My first strategy centered on relief from pain. To do this, I chose a set of asanas which brought mild movement and a soothing stretch to the area. Our asana practice is the integrated practice of the body, breath, and mind. The precise alignment of the limbs, spine, neck, and head have a profound effect on our breath in each asana. The duration we remain in an asana, and the sequence of the asanas, impact the body, the nature of our breath, and our mind. Our asana works on our breath, and our breath works on our mind. This process works together. Our injuries respond well to multidisciplinary therapy, so I also applied some home remedies. Asanas and self-massaging with warm oil helped reduce the pain in my wrist.

Later, I added the second and third strategies. I knew from my background in human anatomy that when the joints are injured, it is necessary to strengthen the muscles around the joint. If it is a weight bearing joint, then the muscles which are distal (away from the origin) to the joints also should be strengthened. Therefore, asanas which strengthen the forearms, upper arms, and rotator cuffs are sequenced into practice. Strong and stable upper arms and shoulder girdles reduce the load of the weight transferred to wrists during arm balances and other asanas where the hands and the wrist bear weight. I also realized from my practice that strong and stable deep core muscles bring a lightness to our body. It once again decreases the load on the weight-bearing joints. Knowing this, I practiced asanas to strengthen the arms, shoulder girdles, abdominals, and deeper core muscles while I practiced pranayama to heal my body and mind. In addition, I drew inner strength from Sage Patanjali’s yoga darshana, sutra, I. 14 “sa tu dīrgha kāla nairantarya satkārā sevito dṛḍhabhūmiḥ” (Long, uninterrupted, alert practice is the firm foundation for restraining the fluctuations), which always reverberated in my mind. This sutra helped me continue my relentless practice.

My focused yoga practice eventually led to wonderful changes. I developed more strength in my arms and rest of my body, and I felt more confident in trying intense asanas. It took courage to get back to practicing arm balance postures (Photo 2 and Photo 3). Still, I continued practicing all the standing postures. Standing postures build strength all over the body. The soothing soreness in the muscles brought the joy of good pain. Soon, I became completely pain free and I returned to my regular practice.

Designing a healing program for each condition and for each individual is a highly customized practice. ‘One size fits all’ does not work with remedial asana practice. One should come up with a structured sequence of asana and pranayama practice for the injury or consider going to an experienced teacher. I believe it is a highly individualistic practice, because we each have our own set of unique physical and mental strengths and liabilities.

The human body has both an internal and external community. The process of healing is a community effort in both of these dimensions. The associated mindful practice of the body, breath, and mind heals physical and psychological injuries. Depending on the intensity of the injury, healing may also require the involvement of a larger community that is external to the body: family, friends, and the larger society. Their compassionate support and varied help are important. Nevertheless, healing has to come from within. We have to make the effort to heal ourself. Others cannot heal our injuries; they can only support us.

My physical injuries served as a learning experience for me. I gained knowledge about the value of perseverance and determination, which led me to deeper introspection. Every injury brought me a deeper understanding of myself, as well as the asanas (postures). Pain has always led me to the pleasure of learning. My injuries also served as an aid in teaching asanas to my students. I always use these opportunities to educate my students about making modifications when they face similar challenges in their yoga practice.

The practice of the asanas is a spiritual practice as well as a remedial one. Initially, I was attached to my practice of arm balancing postures. When I could not do them, I felt so depressed, then I realized it was time to practice moving away from attachment. During this journey, I also developed control over my tendency to overdo. I was humbled and grateful for the opportunity and the ability to do asanas and recover. My injury, pain, and the process to overcome the challenge taught me to be more compassionate towards others going through similar challenges. My mindful asana practice also gave me the discriminative knowledge of knowing the difference between “good” and “bad” pain. It confirmed my belief in the power of determination and mindful practice. I have embraced the knowledge and the wisdom I’ve gained by going through these experiences.

1 B.K.S. Iyengar, John J. Evans, and Douglas Abrams (2005). Light on life: The Yoga Journey to Wholeness, Inner Peace, and Ultimate Freedom, Holtzbrinck Publishers, USA.

2 Aruna Purohit (2015). Glorious Moment on My Yogic Journey. The Beacon, Shining light on New England, Iyengar Yoga Association of New England, Vol. 6, Issue 2, Fall 2015/Winter 2016, pp 1-3. vol.6-issue-2-Fall-2015-Winter-2016

3 Prashant S. Iyengar (2012). Yogasana An Adhyatmik Academy, Yog, Mumbai, India.

4 Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1943). Le Petit Prince.

5 B.K.S. Iyengar (2008). B.K.S. Iyengar Yoga: The Path to Holistic Health, Dorling Kindersley Limited, Great Britain.

6 Ray Long (2017). Connect Your Cuff, Save Your Wrists in Plank https://yogauonline.com/yoga-practice-teaching-tips/yoga-anatomy/connect-your-cuff-save-your-wrists-in-plank/

7 B.K.S. Iyengar (2002). Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, Thorsons, London, Great Britain.

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Episode Description

In this first episode, Susan Johnson is joined by co-host Lee Sverkerson as they embark on a captivating journey through the early years of the legendary B.K.S. Iyengar. In this special episode, they have the honor of interviewing Prashant Iyengar, son of B.K.S. Iyengar, who shares intimate insights into his father’s formative years.

Join us as we shine a light on the early years of B.K.S. Iyengar’s extraordinary life.

Please enjoy On the Light.

If you enjoy this podcast and would like to support its continued production, please consider making a donation to On the Light

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Bobby Clennell is a senior Iyengar yoga teacher, animator, illustrator and author who has taught at the Iyengar Yoga Institute of New York since its inception in 1992 until her retirement this month (March 2026). She’s also the author and illustrator of three beloved yoga books, The Women’s Yoga Book, Watch Me Do Yoga, a guide to yoga for children, and Yoga for Breast Health, in addition to The Pune Guide, an indispensable handbook for yogis studying at the Iyengar Institute in Pune and navigating the city (with details on everything from how to cross the street where to buy sandals and snacks)*. And she has been sought-after leader of workshops who has circled the globe to teach.

Bobby and her siblings were raised by a single mother in struggling post-WWII England and she came of age in the foment of the 1960s and ‘70s, when London was swinging, a crucible of countercultural creativity and social life. By the time she was in her early 20s, she had studied dressmaking at the London School of Fashion, illustration at Central St. Martin’s College of Art and met her husband, Lindsey Clennell, a filmmaker who also would become a Senior Iyengar instructor, at a Scientology meeting. “We were seekers, but we didn’t really know we were seekers,” she says. “We didn’t last in Scientology very long. Maybe we would have been Buddhists, if we’d known what Buddhism was.”

The couple had two sons and supported their young family through the combination of their artistic creativity and resourcefulness. “Lindsey was really creative, I mean really creative,” says Bobby. “He could do anything,” from graphic design and film editing, to collaborating with the avant garde Arts Lab in Convent Garden, to selling central heating systems door-to-door to make ends meet. For a time, Bobby made costumes for the BBC and Pan’s People, the dance group for Top of the Pops, a show that “brought all of Great Britain to a standstill every Thursday night” and she designed clothes for a happening boutique called Bosie, after Oscar Wilde’s lover. “Our apartment was full of women with sewing machines, and dancers, which Lindsey got annoyed about at some point. And in those days, you did what your husband told you to do. So that came to an end, and I started doing animation,” which became a 25-year career.

It was somewhere around 1973 that Bobby and Lindsey discovered yoga in a church hall in London—and it happened to be Iyengar yoga. “I was hooked,” says Bobby, “from the word go. It just made me feel so good.” In short order, yoga became the heart of the couple’s lives—they would save up and travel to Pune to study with B.K.S. Iyengar and his family every two years. “I just felt we had to do it—for the salvation of our family, and mankind, and everything,” Bobby says. “It never occurred to me we were ever going to become yoga teachers. It was that this Mr. Iyengar was so extraordinary.” Iyengar yoga gave her, she says, the strength to navigate a dramatically shifting world for women—“the framework with which to move forward in life.” It was “something completely reliable and trustworthy.”

A few years ago, Lindsey was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. In addition to her teaching, workshops and other responsibilities, Bobby became his caretaker. In September, after more than three decades in New York City, the couple moved back to England, where their son Miles lives and where they own a house. This interview was conducted on the cusp of that turning point, as Bobby reflected on her time in New York, 50-plus years in Iyengar yoga and her hopes for a future with more time for personal practice and introspection. “I want my mornings back, I want my pranayama. I think that’s right for 82.”

Let’s start with a question about your beginnings. Was there anything in your childhood that was a glimmer of your future life as a yoga practitioner and teacher?

Not exactly. I was never athletic or a sports person. I was brought up mostly by a single mother. I had a father, but he died when I was 10, and he hadn’t been at home, anyway. My mother had nothing, except to get up and go to work, and bring us up, and get us educated.

I was born two years before the war ended so I don’t remember it, except for uncles showing up in uniform, and bomb sites everywhere. But my mother lived through the war and bringing us up in post-war England, when there was rationing and the country was just pulling itself together was a bit of a grim time. My mother was under a huge amount of stress, and I don’t think she could see the magic in me, or my siblings, really, bless her. She loved us a lot, but she didn’t have any backup, any help. She taught me how to put one foot in front of the other. That still stays with me. I’m a living testament. It worked out.

But when I was six or seven, my mother took me once a week to a dance class for little girls on Girdlers Road in Hammersmith, London. My dance teacher was called Miss Greenwood, and I loved Miss Greenwood and dancing. And then, one day—they didn’t consult me, or anything—she just left. As teachers do. I tell my students, “Look, don’t hold onto me, let me go.”

Anyway, Miss Greenwood, who taught ballet, left and this other teacher came, who seemed to be more Isadora Duncan, which I thought was horrible. And so I just stopped going. I just refused. I was not going to go back again. It’s amazing how important these things are to us.

But you had enjoyed the physicality and moving your body?

Yes. And eventually, the yoga replaced the dance classes, because I had a memory of being in my body, and moving, and being with a teacher and a group of other people doing it, and it being a sort of art form. I tapped into that when I found yoga.

And how did you find yoga?

A friend told me to come to a class. It was Carol Rudd. Thank you, Carol! Some of the hedonistic aspects of the sixties were sort of winding down, the Beatles were going to India, and everyone started getting interested in India. The class was being taught in a church hall by a guy called David Elliott, who’s now passed away. From the very first class, I just felt so good. I was hooked, from the word go.

Lindsey used to come with me. We would do it together. I must have been around 30, because around 32, we went to India. It was, “Let’s go and find out what this is all about.”

Lindsey went first, just to make sure it was ok. It was like going to Mars as far as we knew. The amazing thing is that he happened to be there for the grand opening of Ramamani Iyengar Memorial Yoga Institute (RIMYI). I don’t think we understood the significance of that, what a big deal it was. And Krishnamacharya, Iyengar’s guru, was there, but I’m not sure that the penny dropped about that either.

So, Lindsey gave the thumbs up?

Yes, I went a year later, and it was like, “Oh my God, this is amazing. You’ve got to be kidding!” (Although I would never have said those words—that’s an American way of talking.) And after that, it was every two years. We’d save up, and then we’d go. I’d never met anybody like Mr. Iyengar, who was such a humanitarian, so selfless, so generous.

You hear people talking about how rough he was, and how he shouted. And he could be scary. I mean, you weren’t going to have a casual conversation with him. He was a realized being.

Anyway, we just kept going back and back and back. It was just an intuition that this was incredibly important.

Can you describe what those first experiences in Guruji’s classes were like?

Well, we thought we’d been really practicing in England. Until we went there. We were young, and we survived, but I could not walk up the steps of the Ajit Hotel after class. Lindsey would have to push me up. And now, I’m grateful that I got that imprint in there when I was as young as I was, and built up the physical strength, and every other kind of strength that goes with it. Guruji was so insistent. He kept you on the edge of the moment.

When he was present, the room changed. If he was over there practicing, like during the general practice sessions we had every day, you became more focused. And if he wasn’t there, it wasn’t the same. But if he was somewhere in the corner, something happened to the atmosphere.

What did that feel like?

Well, your practice sharpened up. Even if you thought he couldn’t see you, of course he could see you. He knew what was going on. You came more into present time, and you just wised up. You became the best person you could be in that circumstance, which was as yoga practitioner. There was no laziness about your practice, and it was very important to you.

That was something else you learned from him—that practice is very important, and we should practice regularly, and with integrity. He had such an eye for detail, and there was nothing else going on with him. That was the thing. I think he used to watch the cricket on TV, but other than that, I can’t remember him doing anything else besides yoga.

And did you notice the effect it was having on you?

It gave me strength. It meant I could cope with a changing world for women. There was a lot of stuff going on. Feminism came our way around about that time, but I wasn’t born into feminism. I was still a kind of a ‘50s kind of a person, albeit very young. And then, drugs suddenly appeared out of nowhere. You never saw marijuana before. And all those ‘60s and ‘70s ideas were brand new.

It was a lot of change, a lot to navigate, especially, if you were a creative, like me and Lindsey. We didn’t have degrees, we weren’t working in steady jobs, we didn’t have a career path. So, you have to have something to hold onto, something that says, “This is something you can trust.” Guruji was the most trustworthy person I ever met.

Which is noteworthy when so many people saw their gurus go under.

Right, a lot of other gurus were disgracing themselves and getting tempted. Who wouldn’t, with all that adulation coming at you? But he didn’t seem to be affected at all.

You’ve also described how his physical appearance and activities changed after your first meetings and that, when he was traveling, he wore beautiful suits and wanted to see the latest movies—which is hard to imagine for those of us who came to know of him during the last decades of his life.

Well, we had nothing to compare him with at the time, and we didn’t question it. It was such a new experience for us. He would get his suits made by tailors in London, and had a short haircut, and he’d ride around on a motorbike. He was often trying to get the motorbike to start, and then he’d go off. He was eating Western food and meeting Western people. And he was “sir,” you called him “sir.” But he still had all his integrity, even if he did have a suit made on Savile Row.

But yes, then he did change. I can’t remember what year. He grew his hair and started wearing simple Indian-style shirts. And he had certain stones that he wore. In Pune, there would have been a Vedic astrologer around to tell you which ones. And you referred to him as your guru. He was Guruji now, and he embodied that.

Over the decades you studied with and observed him, how did you see his teaching, or the focus of his teaching, evolve?

I think his teaching kept evolving the whole time. He taught in the moment. He used to say, “Don’t do the same pose twice. This is your first trikonasana ever. Don’t do the one you did yesterday.” He also used to say, “There is no such thing as Iyengar yoga. It’s yoga, it’s not Iyengar yoga.” But it was—it all came from him.

Lucky for us.

That’s right.

Can you describe your experience of that evolution?

I think the UK was one of the first Western countries Guruji came to. Yehudi Menuhin was his student, and he was living in England, so Guruji started coming to teach. At the time, there was a thing called the Inner London Educational Authority—ILEA. They taught evening classes in school buildings, where people could learn basket weaving or whatever, in the classrooms at night. And they decided to include yoga.

By some miracle, or karma, someone said, “If we’re going to do yoga under the auspices of the ILEA, it’s got to be Iyengar Yoga.” And somebody else said, “Okay, we’ll have Iyengar yoga. But no weird stuff—no chanting, no spirituality, no philosophy. None of that.”

So, the way Guruji taught came out of that. It was on a physical plane, and in great detail. But there was no talk of chakras or the scriptures. This was part of the development of his teaching, and why it’s so precise, and why Iyengar yoga teachers are so good at understanding the body.

A long time later, I don’t know what year it was, his teaching did change. There was a marked change. He gave a workshop in [the Indian hill station] Panchgani [for a celebration of his 75th birthday]. And he was talking about elements and koshas [meaning sheaths, which the Upanishads describe as the “subtle body”]. And it was fascinating, and fabulous, and electrifying. It was still asana and pranayama, but a different expression of that.

Guruji explained how once you understand that your subtle body is a collection of memories and impulses that travels from lifetime to lifetime, body to body, you become connected to the infinite. Each lifetime gives you a chance to work off karma and develop spiritually. Knowing that you are not the body, but you have a body—which nevertheless is your temple, so if you do nothing else, take great care of it—and that gives you the chance to step back and see the big picture. Life runs so much more smoothly when you can see the big picture!

Would you talk a bit more about how your relationship to Guruji affected your own spiritual or religious development?

Just being around him and in his class, and being in those practice sessions where you could watch him working with someone—it all had an enormous effect. His attention to detail, and his intense focus on something, on the body, was such a devotional activity. I couldn’t have got that out of a book or anywhere else. So, in that respect, I picked up on a little bit of that focus that he had, just by being inspired by him, by being around someone who is that evolved.

He showed that understanding of how to be your authentic self and not to try to be someone else, to understand what you are meant to be doing—that you have a moral duty to perform, which is your dharma—is all something you might as well stop fighting against and get on with it. When you realize that, then you stop complaining about your lot. That’s leading a spiritual life, I think. I get inspired when I see people who don’t have anywhere near what I have but who still have such joy.

I’ve never met anyone else who cared for people the way Guruji cared for people. That’s a religious life. That’s spirituality to me.

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Did Guruji often talk explicitly about yoga as an antidote to suffering?

Well, he said that rather than just running away from suffering or things that are uncomfortable, that facing them, working through them, through the asanas, you become empowered. The asanas empower you, like nothing else I know.

And when you start to feel better—that’s the other thing: you start to feel better—then you’re better able to cope with whatever comes your way. The Vedas and the Yoga Sutras and, Guruji himself, told us, there’s a certain amount of suffering in life and not only does yoga help us face it, but the practice helps us to avoid the suffering that is to come.

And the understanding that there is meant to be joy, too. We’re not actually meant to be suffering particularly—it comes and goes in waves. From this point of my life, I can see that. It’s good to remember that. I think it’s a Tantric saying that describes this: “From joy all beings come. In joy, all beings are sustained. To joy, all beings return.”

Guruji had such a way with words, and so did Geeta. Are there certain things you remember them saying that are almost like a mantra for you, or that pop up at different times of need?

I sometimes find myself repeating a phrase, which might not be that profound, but it’s something that Guruji would say: “Stay there [in the pose], and nothing bad will happen.” (Bobby laughs.)

That’s a good one.

Yeah. “Nothing bad will happen.” My son Jake does a good imitation of that.

And “any amount.” He always said to do something in your practice “any amount”—make every effort you possibly can. There are probably many more things that have just become part of my vocabulary of teaching. With Geeta, it was more of an attitude. I think I remember more of Guruji’s words because I was young and formative when I met him.

Was there a point when the idea of teaching did start to crystalize for you?

Not exactly. Not all at once. One year, we went to Pune with Silva Mehta, who was a teacher in the U.K. [and the late author of Yoga The Iyengar Way]. This was before teacher training. She asked Guruji if he would certify us all. And so he just went round the room and said, “You can be that. You can be that.” I was an intermediate something. Lindsey was more highly certified than me. He was a senior something.

Why was that?

I don’t know but Lindsey did great in yoga. He was really strong. He’d been a gymnast as a kid, he had very strong standing poses, and he was a beautiful practitioner. And when he taught, much later, at the Institute, people always said how wonderful his classes were. He had such a generous spirit.

His classes were wonderful. So that was the beginning of the Iyengar certification system?

Yes, but it wasn’t really a system yet. I had that certification in England, and then when I came to New York, I started teaching at the Institute. And Lindsey wrote to Mr. Iyengar and said, “I think Bobby should be upgraded.” And Mr. Iyengar said, “Yes, all right,” and upgraded me to something. I’m very bad at the levels and things, because I predate it.

So, he upgraded me. And then when I showed up in Pune the next time, all upgraded, Guruji basically said, “Your yoga is crap.” He wasn’t going to let your ego get the better of you. It was just like, “Get over it, lady.” That’s a New York phrase, which he wouldn’t have used. But I just remember him saying something like that, and it was with love.

He wasn’t going to let me, or anyone, get all excited. He was saying, “Keep it going. Don’t rest on that.”

Nevertheless, you were able to put that certification to use when you moved to New York?

Not intentionally, not right away. When we left the UK I kind of lost my identity for a while. I didn’t know who I was, because in England, I was an animator. I didn’t have a work permit or a green card, so I couldn’t work at first. And thank God, that was the end of animation. I mean, I loved animation, but I didn’t want to be an old lady animator.

That’s the period when you made Yantra [an animated film of BKS Iyengar doing asanas]?

Yes, Yantra was sort of my transition from England to New York. I sat and animated Mr. Iyengar doing yoga. I was like a headless chicken, making these line drawings. I couldn’t stop. Animators are funny. They sit in dungeons for years and make a film that may get shown at a festival. So it was in that spirit that I made Yantra, and I wasn’t thinking anything would happen with it. And nothing ever did happen. It’s just on my website.

But the lesson from that is: catch the moment. If you have that energy, catch it, and do it. Don’t overthink. Listen to your intuition. It doesn’t have to be about climbing up a corporate ladder all the time, which I’ve never been able to do anyway.

America made a big impact on me. There was a feeling of freedom in the air that you couldn’t explain. You wouldn’t even know it, unless you come from some place in Europe, or another place in the world. You land here, and there’s just a freedom in your heart that you feel when you move. It may be that’s because you’ve moved out of your own culture into another. It unlocks things in your brain, if you get out of where you were born, and go somewhere else.

So, it turned out that in our 50s, Lindsey and I got another whole lease on life. At home, we would’ve just carried on pootling along, and now you’ve got to survive. We didn’t have any means of [financial] survival, really. So, we had to dig down into our inner resources. And what do you have? Well, I had a teaching certificate. Lindsey was making a film, then he got a job editing, and then he decided he wanted to teach, too.

And so it felt right at that point?

Even though I wasn’t ever meant to be a career yoga teacher, that was what presented itself to me. Geeta used to say, “don’t ask yourself whether it’s what you’re meant to be doing. If you’re doing it, do it. Do it to the best of your ability.”

Maybe there were other possibilities, maybe I should have been an artist or something, but I’m teaching yoga for whatever reason. Geeta also said, “I didn’t choose to teach yoga. Yoga just got me.” Of course, she was the daughter of B.K.S. Iyengar. She could hardly escape. But I don’t think that when she was a child she thought, “I’m going to teach yoga.” And I didn’t, either.

Your teaching career has paralleled the founding and development of the New York Institute. Would you talk a little about your experience of its birth and evolution?

The Institute is home, and it’s why we stayed in New York, in a way. When I arrived, there was no institute—there was a belly dancing place where we used to teach. My son Jake would frog march his friends in and say, “you will come to my mother’s class.” So, it would be mostly Jake’s friends. And then they’d all go to the bar afterwards. And that was my introduction to teaching.

Mary Dunn used to teach at a community center, and Kevin Gardner taught at his apartment. And then Mary started the Institute. What a Herculean task that was—it was a devotional thing she did. And so now we had a home. And at the time you kind of took it for granted, that Mary was this sort of mother. There’ll never be another Mary.

I remember sitting in meetings and befriending Brooke Myers and Richard Jonas. And I was learning how to teach, slowly, because I’d never done teacher training. Mary taught me how to teach without really...I mean, you go to her class, you’re learning how to teach.

It all felt a little bit looser then. Now there’s such a strength about it. We lost our Institute for a while during COVID and then brought it back. I think some of the best teaching goes on there. It’s committed. It has a New York edge.

How did all the international workshops come about?

It was through writing the books and people coming to know me. That’s not why I wrote the books, of course, but it put my name all over the place. The traveling meant I just had to expand to fill this frame. Guruji sometimes said that about yoga: “Make it fit the frame.” By fitting the frame, he meant make the geometric shape of the asana, and then inhabit that shape physically—organs, muscles, nerves—as well as mentally and spiritually.

So, for a while, I was literally on airplanes all the time, and that was so exciting. I really enjoyed it. It was meaningful and I opened myself up to my potential. There’s a bit of a leap of faith to suddenly allow yourself to become a guest teacher all over the place.

And then COVID came, and that was the end of that. As a yoga teacher, to survive you had to change. Some people didn’t get through the change. Some people just stopped teaching.

But because I’d been around film—Lindsey and Jake were film makers, and my eldest son was a video editor, and I was very familiar with live action film as a part of my animation career—it wasn’t too scary. I knew what it means to be in front of the camera, if nothing else.

How would you describe your approach to teaching?

Well, it’s taken an awfully long time to be really at ease with teaching. Partly because for a while I was on the road so much, and the emphasis was more on teaching workshops than the weekly classes. It’s a very different thing. With the workshops, you show up, you wow them, and you leave. You can’t do that with a class because they’re coming back next week.

So, I knew how to teach workshops, but I don’t think I really understood as well how to teach the classes, although I was always teaching classes. I don’t think I’m good at teaching the beginners. I think I kill them, actually.

Your level 1/2 was my introduction to Iyengar over 30 years ago, and I lived to tell the tale.

So, it’s not all bad! Well, I don’t have to rehearse a class like I used to. When I first started to teach, I’d have to write down almost every word I was going to say. And now it’s a list of drawings. I have to draw the asanas, but I may or may not follow that.

I think it takes a long time to learn how to really feel relaxed about teaching and for students to get something out of it. Because it’s not just what you’re doing, it’s how it lands. I think it takes a lifetime of teaching endlessly to get that. But it’s a little less torturous now.

You have to teach according to the level, according to what you’ve learned. But you’re not hiding yourself—students want to see you come through the teaching because it’s a relationship.

But that’s why it’s important that there’s a method—you can’t go wrong because the method is so good. Actually, allowing your own personality to come through can be a bit dangerous, if you don’t have a handle on it. Sometimes I do have to rein myself in and not get too jokey. When I’m tired, I can get very chatty. But the students forgive you.

You’ve illustrated every one of your books, you made Yantra. Is drawing and art making inextricable from yoga for you? Did you start doing that from the very beginning in Pune?

Yes, it was my way of taking notes—but taking notes was frowned upon. Guruji would say, “Don’t make notes, absorb the information through your skin.” But I love my notes. I’ve got files full of them. I don’t think I did drawings in Pune while I was taking a class—it wouldn’t have been allowed—but you were allotted a certain number of classes where you could observe from the back of the room.

So I’ve got reams of drawings, mostly of the back of people, which is quite interesting. Whenever I teach a class, I have to take some drawings. That’s how my brain works.

Did Guruji, or Geeta, ever comment on that? Were they interested in what you were doing?

I remember at some point I was permitted to help in the medical classes. If you were at a certain level of certification, you could do that. There might be three people working on one person, and then Guruji would come around. These were amazing learning situations. I remember drawing some sequence in the medical class and Guruji looking a bit, well, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, because I was just drawing, and drawing, and drawing. But he didn’t stop me.

One of my fondest memories of Guruji—and I’ve told this story before—is one time when we were in Pune burning the midnight oil, decorating the Institute for a celebration—there were always celebrations. I had a team. We had colored paper, and glue, and we were pulling everything together.

We could tell Guruji was over in his house, on the other side of the courtyard, because the light was on. First, he sent tea for all of us. Then, he came over to see what was going on. I’m on the floor, cutting and pasting figures [of people in asanas]. And suddenly there’s a pair of feet in front of me, and you follow the pair of feet up, and it’s Mr. Iyengar. And he starts to correct the drawings, like “the knee should turn in a little bit more, and the foot should turn that way.” He was having so much fun, collaborating. In a moment, he could skip from being a yoga master to being an art director. It was wonderful having him around, having him contribute, and having him be enthusiastic.

Geeta must have appreciated your drawing as well, not to mention your teaching, since she wrote the introduction to The Women’s Yoga Book. How did that come about?

I wrote to Geeta and said, “I’ve written this. I don’t think it’s fair of me to ask you to edit it, but could you write me an introduction?” So, I FedExed it over and she wrote a lovely introduction. And I’m very blessed. It means I had their blessing.

Now, there’s a lot I’d change in the book if I could. I know more now, and there are a lot of things we do differently in the teaching of certain asanas. But doing a book takes over your life, it takes 10 years. I don’t think it’s going to happen again.

One of my favorite Guruji quotes is “Yoga teaches us to cure what need not be endured and to endure what cannot be cured,” which touches on what you were saying earlier about his approach to suffering. Having your husband develop dementia and having had other losses in your life, including your friend Brooke Myers who has Alzheimer’s—I’m making the assumption that your practice has given you a perspective on losing somebody in that way, which you might not otherwise have.

Yes. Absolutely. But I think part of it is that I was not brought up in a particularly easy household. There was a certain amount of struggle going on, because my mother brought the three of us up on her own. My father wasn’t around much, and then he left when I was around 10. And it was difficult in England because there was a sort of taboo—if you were a woman struggling on your own, you were a figure of pity. It was your fault and it was shameful. And the British class system seemed to be something that caused my mother a lot of pain. But she just kept on going and did what you have to do.

More and more, I think that that may have shaped me. I accept whatever life throws at me, I just think that’s normal. And if nice things come my way, I think, “Oh wow, that’s nice.”

I also have as part of my life the idea of duty. Geeta talked a lot about duty. The Bhagavad Gita talks a lot about duty, and I believe anything that comes out of the Bhagavad Gita, even if I don’t always understand it. That helps me, that sustains me. I don’t feel like the world has done me wrong because my husband has Alzheimer’s and I’m having to do a lot of stuff. I’m just doing it.

But I will say this: don’t marry anyone who you’re not prepared to take care of when they get Alzheimer’s. If you want the family and the kids or whatever it is, then old age is part of the package.

What does this turning point—having left New York, the Institute and returning to England—feel like for you?

It feels right. Eight years ago, we bought an apartment in New York, and it might’ve been more sensible to not have gone through the whole hassle and just go straight back to the UK where we already had a house. But I wasn’t ready, and I didn’t want to go. I still had work to do here.

And these last years have been an amazing time. I wouldn’t have missed it. But now it’s time. It’s appropriate. And I’m ready. I want it. I think it’ll come over me in waves because my life in New York meant my feet didn’t touch the ground. I was just kept aloft either by the energy of the city or my place at the Institute or the people around me and my students.

But I don’t want to be this busy. I have to go and find peace. There’s a stage which I’m almost too late for—because I’m 82—which is more of an introspective time. I want to be able to do my own practice, and protect that.

You’ve talked in classes about how your practice has changed over time, and that you usually start with a 20-minute supta virasana—you called it “your heaven.” What else do you focus on?

Well, I’m not as strong as I was, so I have to incorporate that. I don’t stand on my head for half an hour anymore. In the beginning, we didn’t know any better—we thought we were supposed to stand on your heads for half an hour because that’s what Guruji used to do. I really learned inversions just by being in proximity to him.

Now, 15 minutes is my max. And I love doing it with the support of blocks. And I love hanging upside down. I don’t push up off the floor in urdhva dhanurasana anymore. I can push off the wall, or I can push up off a chair, so I do that.

I love my forward bends. And shoulder stand with a chair. Because the inversions are a good way to keep your immune system and nervous system strong.

What about this new chapter in the UK are you most looking forward to?

I think life in New York encroached on my practice. It’s hard to push the world away. But I want my mornings back. I want to get up and know that the morning is mine, that nobody’s coming at me. I want my pranayama. I want all that to be more important than everything that’s demanded of me. I think that’s the right thing for 82.

*For a full list of Bobby’s publications, visit www.bobbyclennel.com.

The three-day Iyengar Yoga course in Guangzhou, China, taught by Guruji, scheduled as a megaclass for an estimated 800 people, grew to a gathering of 1,400 yoga students from around the world: from China, Japan, Malaysia, India, Australia, New Zealand, the United States, and Turkey, to name a few. And though everyone was there for different reasons, from different countries, speaking many different languages, we had one commonality: we practiced yoga.

I was told that more than half of the students at the summit did not practice Iyengar Yoga. They had heard that an Indian yoga master was coming to China and signed up for the event because of his celebrity in the yoga community. From the moment he arrived at the hall, it was clear that Guruji was receiving a dignitary’s welcome: he was an ambassador of yoga. Guruji’s message before he began teaching Asana the first day was about presence. He told us to come to our practice with receptive minds and to use that receptive mental state to study what we learn. It is only then that we have a chance of reaching the goal of yoga. In the afternoon session, Birjoo Mehta (a student of Guruji’s since 1975) echoed this sentiment, telling us that to fully understand what we are being taught, we had to remove all egoistic knowledge and speculation and allow ourselves the opportunity to learn.

“Today,”Guruji said, “I will teach the practical theory of what we, as sadhakas [aspirants, practitioners], have to observe within ourselves.” He then gave us the philosophical foundation for our time together and beyond, telling us to study the relationship between Yoga Sutra I.32, tatpratisedhartham ekatattva abhyasah (Adherence to single-minded effort prevents these impediments.) and chapter 2, sloka 48 of the Bhagavad Gita: samatvam yoga ucyate (Yoga is evenness of mind.).

Guruji instructed us, and Birjoo reiterated, that this was our work as yogis: to bring citta vritti nirodhah (the cessation of movement in the consciousness) to the level of the practical and to use the body as the object of meditation in action. He told us that alignment is the technology we as practitioners of hatha yoga have been given in order to do this. As Birjoo said, “Universal consciousness that becomes limited is individual consciousness. Work toward [practice] universal consciousness.”

Guruji’s ability to see the students before him and teach directly to them is unparalleled. One of the most profound experiences of my life was feeling the energy of these students’ minds shift to a state of absolute receptivity. For example, the first pose Guruji taught was Tadasana, and he used Abhijata, his granddaughter, to demonstrate. He showed us how one leg was overworking, one underworking, and he described her overworking leg as a ‘tsunami.” This seemed to be the first time many of the attendees observed the body in an asana in such a manner. Guruji explained over and over again what he was observing using different metaphors (a tsunami, a leaf, etc.) until the light in the students began to shine. This transformation was palpable; looks of confusion changed to understanding, from tamas (darkness) to sattva (luminosity) via the rajas (vibrancy) of Guruji’s brilliant teaching.

Afterwards, I watched many of the students who said they had never before practiced Iyengar Yoga reviewing what had been taught in the morning session, going over and over the information with one another. Gone were the flip cameras and iPhones that had absorbed their attention before Guruji’s teaching began. Now they were lying on the floor observing the inner and outer heels of their colleagues who were in Parsvottanasana! The expressions on their faces transcended lineages and languages; they were luminous as they began to connect to the infinite source of joy and peace that lies within each one of us.

Guruji’s teaching style is captivating, commanding, compassionate, and concise. Studying with him was a practice of samyama (integration): the stream of dharana (concentration) leads to a river of dhyana (meditation), which opens up into an ocean of samadhi (absolute absorption). For the first two days Guruji taught what he referred to as the drdhabhumih (of firm ground; see Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, I.14) of our Asana practice, making us repeat the poses over and over again until he was satisfied that we were absorbing the main points of his teaching.

He was not lecturing from the stage, but rather completely involved in the process of our learning, asking us if we understood, making us answer him out loud. If one person said he wasn’t sure, Guruji brought him onto the stage and taught directly to him until he had a direct experience (pramana) in his own body. At one point, during a seated twist, when he had rained down on us instructions which we weren’t soaking into the soil of our cells, he flooded us entirely by scampering down off the stage and walking around the outer circumference of the room, all the while yelling at us to continue looking for him. My ears heard him; my brain wanted to please him; my waist, abdomen, ribs, chest, shoulders, neck, ears, eyes, and brain turned around and around until my heart understood that I had been blessed in this lifetime to learn directly from this enlightened guru.

The first day the students politely clapped and cheered when he arrived. Four hours later,

they were roaring, lining the aisles, kneeling in front of him, and bowing down at his

feet--he who had led them from “darkness to light, the unreal to the real.” A man named

B. K. S. Iyengar came to China as a guest teacher to a very large classroom of yoga practitioners, some of whom already considered themselves experts of his subject, but he left the country as a revered Guruji to us all. From his pulpit on the stage, Guruji became a minister to our bodies, minds, and hearts, and he created a unity among us that transcended the differences of nationality, language, religion, gender, and method of practicing yoga. His teachings were entirely simple and yet utterly profound. What follows is my humble attempt to convey his intangible brilliance into tangible words. I make this offering in love and fellowship to you all.

Holly Kostura, B.S.N., CIYT-Level 3, ERYT-500, C-IAYT, is a member of IYAGNY and a core member of the IC26 Steering Committee. She was graced with the opportunity to travel to China in 2011 and practice in Guruji’s light. Holly feels blessed to share his radiant gems of wisdom with her fellow sadhakas and thanks IYNAUS for the opportunity.

This article originally appeared in IYANE's newsletter, The Beacon, vol. 2, issue 2, Fall 2011/Winter 2012.

SIDE BAR (BOX) for Holly’s article

Tadasana

• Internal defects are viewed externally.

• The skin has to move toward the flesh and not be “jarred” by it.

• The skin on the outer bottom foot has to spread out away from the median line.

• Guruji showed us a large leaf with a vein running down the center to give us a visual reference for how to measure from the center to the periphery.

• When making adjustments, Guruji challenged us to watch the effects that corrections made to one part of the body have on all the other parts.

• When we take wrong actions our sensory nerves get blocked by overactive motor nerves: we are being insensitive. This is why correct alignment is important.

• If the skin is sensitive, the practice will go well. If it is insensitive (dry), the practice will go badly.

• Work so that we are shifting the wrong to the right. If it is going wrong in Tadasana, it is going wrong in Sirsasana and Sarvangasana.

• Press down on the toenails, the toes, the knobs of the toes, the front and backs of the heels evenly and measure across the tops of the ankles.

• “When the brain is light it can see the entire body. Put the mind in the body.”

The next four standing asanas are the most important, they are the drdhabumih for all the other standing asanas. PYS: I.14.

Utthita Trikonasana

• Observe the “outer line” from the outer foot to the outer hip, up to the outer wrist.

• On the right side: involute the right hip and evolute the chest.

Utthita Parsvakonasana

• From Parsva Hasta Padasana to Utthita Parsvakonasana, observe the height of the armpits and maintain them throughout.

• Keep the “road” of the front leg thigh thin as you take the hand down to maintain the “ether” of the groin.

• The “connecting tissue” of the upper arm has to connect to the trunk.

• Go down from the root, not the shoot.

• On the right side: stretch from the left hip to the left outer heel, and the left hip to the left fingertips.

Prasarita Padottanasana

• The skin on the back should be soft. Circularize the skin on the thighs and the back before bringing the head down. This brings softness to the back and helps bring the head further down.

• Make the parts of your body “coordinate and cooperate.”

• Move the pubic bone toward the legs.

Parsvottanasana

• Make the “dog tail bone” stay straight!

• Move the pubic bone toward the legs.

• Observe the four sides of the back leg. Make the front and back, and the inside and outside run parallel to one another.

Virasana

Parsva Virasana

• As you sit down, descend the groins and broaden the buttock bones.

• Turn the lower trunk and observe the upper trunk.

• “Stretch from the roots of the nails toward the tips, and keep the skin on the top foot moving toward the toes as you revolve.”

Bharadvajasana I

• The skin on the foot is somatic humility if it is descending, somatic ego if it is ascending.

• Make the shoulder blades be parallel to one another.

• The inner and outer edges of all the nails should be down on the floor.

• “We don’t attend to the cellular body, only the muscular body.”

• “Where is the connection of your mind (to your body)?”

• Roll the skin on the outer thighs into one another.

• Make the middle of the bottom leg thigh go down!

• We control the vrittis (fluctuations) in the tissues of our body with Asana.

Marichyasana III

• Harder for women than men because the top of the pelvis is broad.

• Men have trouble turning the top chest because of its broadness.

• Try Marichyasana III using blanket under inner buttock of the Dandasana leg

only.

• When you feel like you can’t revolve any more, turn the Dandasana leg out and

see what comes.

• For all twists: move the outer skin on the back body down and lift the inner body

up. Turn the inner skin this way, with the skin on the back body descending.

• “Shake hands with yourself!”

• Turn like a top: first the groins, the waist, then adjust the skin on the front body, back body, inner body.

Paschimottanasana

• In Tadasana, Dandasana, Paschimottanasana the space between the top of the pelvis and the bottom ribs must be the same.

• Use three blankets for Paschimottanasana, buttock bones on the edge, to get the body to move toward the west!

• The “leg pits” and the armpits both have to move westward.

• We educate the muscles on the side body and then the spine to avoid injuries from

forward extensions.

• Make the deltoids turn from the outside in.

• Make the top and the bottom of the trunk lengthen.

• To remove the “abscess” of the back; maintain the height of the sternum from

Dandasana in Paschimottanasana.

• Adjust the skin on the back body and front body and inner body like Bharadvajasana I and Marichyasana III.

• Press the forehead on the blanket and the chest on the legs. Make the abdomen “glide” on the legs.

For over three decades, I have worked to become a more

knowledgeable student and better teacher of Iyengar Yoga. The

brilliance of this method attracted me immediately because of its depth

and steep learning curve.

I was told assessment makes for better teachers. In my experience,

that’s true. Working full time as a Spanish teacher and raising two

children, l made it through four assessments. It took calamity to

overcome my reluctance and fear to continue climbing the assessment

ladder.

A blood cancer diagnosis (Hodgkin lymphoma) and aggressive

treatment throughout 2016 sidelined my teaching. I had to be isolated

because of extremely low white blood cell counts. I felt too ill most days

to practice. I lacked the energy to set up the brilliant sequences in Lois

Steinberg’s Cancer Book, though some days I tried. My practice mostly

included reading.

Almost half-way through my chemotherapy rounds, I lost a dear

friend to blood cancer (multiple myeloma) in 2016. She was diagnosed

just four months before I was and had a similar type of cancer. She was

a dedicated CIYT, IYNAUS board member, and studio owner. Shortly

before she died, she told me she wanted nothing more than to return to

teaching yoga again. Her words impacted me deeply.

Practice and teaching provided a way to bring myself back from the

brink. I was still fairly certain I was done with the process of

assessment, partially because self-doubt and fear of inadequacy

lingered inside me. I did not want to face those fears.

Then things shifted.

An expression in Spanish adequately describes my change in

perspective:

“Cuando una puerta se cierra, se abre una ventana.”

“When one door closes, a window opens.”

In 2021, two major brain surgeries (plus a third emergency brain

surgery to repair a life-threatening cerebral spinal fluid leak),

resulted in significant brain injury.

I will never be able to adequately describe the level of discomfort I

have experienced, but I am slowly getting better. A high tolerance for

discomfort and uncertainty have become a mandatory way of life. My

previous cancer diagnosis, treatment, and survival were my training

wheels for what I faced after brain surgery.

For the past four years, diffusing my mind into my body has

lessened some of the discomfort I experience in my brain. Though parts

of my brain will never completely heal, a dedicated Iyengar Yoga

practice has enabled me to manage these things.

I knew that my intellect was not impacted, so immersing myself in

the study of Patanjali’s yoga sutras became my path. Sutras II.I and IV.I

became my guiding principles. These emphasize tapas (discipline and

devotional practice), svadhyaya (self-study), Ishvara pranidhana

(surrender), and samadhi (profound meditation). These concepts –

approachable and pragmatic – paved the way for my continued healing.

B.K.S. Iyengar’s famous quote, “Yoga helps us cure what need not

be endured and helps us endure what cannot be cured,” inspires me. I

am beyond grateful to Guruji for his teachings.

After my first brain surgery, I was confined to a motorized bed that

rolled up and down my back side so I would not get bed sores. I

became determined to get out of that bed! One day, I decided to toss a

flannel blanket on the floor and lowered myself onto it. I did Baddha

Konasana, Dandasana and some upright seated forward bends. I

immediately realized that from below the neck, I was healthy and able to

move. The relief I felt triggered something incredibly powerful in me. I

determined that my Iyengar Yoga practice was going to be my path to

healing (and to not losing my mind).

I realized that pranayama and asana practice could direct

my mind away from my brain’s discomfort. Intense focus became a

balm to my brain. Appropriate movement in asana helped my body and

brain feel much better.

In 2022, I ordered the much revised “Iyengar Certification

Assessment Manual” and decided the structure and intense focus

required for Level 3 would help heal my brain physically,

psychologically, and emotionally. I live a fairly cloistered life, and

decided I had the strength, discipline and time to put myself through this

rigorous (beyond rigorous!) study process. The new Level 3 was going

to be leaps and bounds above my last assessment.

One of the asanas on the Level 3 syllabus, Bhairavasana, is named

for a consort of Shiva and also translates as “formidable.” It was a

metaphor for the difficulty in this list of asanas I would need to master

and then learn to teach. And, Level 3 had multiple other components. I

became a fulltime university student overnight.

Fear and vulnerability were things I had already faced head-on, and I

believed I had nothing to lose. In fact, intentionally choosing something

difficult lessened the stress of managing functional brain injury. Learning

and studying were tangible things I could control when so much of my

recent life had been beyond my control.

Preparing for and undergoing Level 3 assessment taught me even

more than I anticipated. I set out to help my brain heal and ward off

depressive illness. Always a pragmatist, I decided to begin my study by

learning each of the Level 3 asanas. I put photocopies of those 50-

something asanas on my nightstand, in my backpack, on the kitchen

wall, in the bathroom, and anywhere else I would pause to study their

names and workings. I had three already-tattered copies of “Light on

Yoga,” and one was always within reach.

My neck and brain were a mess for a long time, but the rest of my

body could learn and do these poses. In addition to its bony fortress of

protection, the brain employs neck muscles as guards. My neck was in

lockdown. It took well over a year just to turn my head.

Surprisingly, the Level 3 syllabus has poses that are incredibly

beneficial to the neck. A couple of the twists on the list feel better on my

neck than any other asanas I had practiced previously. It took a long

time, but I slowly learned that even Level 3 poses have therapeutic

components.

After a year, I was given medical clearance to do inversions again.

I have been able to use them to lessen my brain fog and pressure. As

odd as it may sound, my brain feels better in any variation of Sirsasana

than it does right side up. I also am more stable balancing on my head

than I am on two feet.

I am not what has been diagnosed, nor am I my injuries. These

things have informed how I live my life, however. Misfortune deepened

my yoga practice to the point where I actually registered for and passed

a Level 3 assessment. Curiosity and challenge have helped me to

flourish. I am grateful to Guruji for his teachings and for the incredible

community of teachers and students who continue to study and share

his work. I will always be humbled by this practice. I continue to learn

every single day.

Today we are celebrating BKS Iyengar’s 107th Jayanti. December 14th would have been Guruji’s 107th birthday.

I have the good fortune to be celebrating this day in Pune, India, at the Ramamani Iyengar Yoga Institute itself! I have been here at RIMYI for the last two weeks: taking classes, helping in the medical classes, practicing in the hall, and sharing meals with friends. It has been a wonderful trip, and I am making the most of the opportunity.

Being at RIMYI is, for me, one of life’s most precious moments. When I practice in the hall, I can see Guruji out of the corner of my eye, standing there in the window in his red shorts. I can feel his strong words and strength of character urging me to be the best version of myself.

This week Abijata Iyengar, the granddaughter of BKS, reminded us of the contributions BKS Iyengar made to the world. She emphasized a contribution we might not normally consider.

In particular, she highlighted BKS Iyengar’s extraordinary skill as a scientist and a cartographer. How is that? BKS Iyengar took an esoteric subject that was not well understood at all and applied a scientific approach.

He used his body as a private laboratory, studying the effects of poses, seeing what was effective, what was not effective, what was safe, what was not safe, how a posture could be used, and how it shouldn’t be used. Over many decades, he came to understand each pose from the outside in and from the inside out.

Guruji didn’t stop there: he explained it to us! BKS Iyengar was able to bring forth the esoteric subject of yoga by offering a road map, many road maps actually. The road map of asana, as we understand it today, is multi-layered. You might say that one map shows the categories of poses. The hills of backends in one region, the flatlands of forward extensions in another.

He offered us another roadmap that detailed the benefits of each pose category and included specific details for each pose within that category. Another overlay he provided us with explained how a particular asana may impact the physical, mental, emotional, and energetic bodies. If you look in Light on the Yoga Sutras, you will even see these maps! There are many charts for us to study and apply to our lives.

Abhijata reminded us that to do all this mapping, BKS Iyengar had to develop a specific language. He brought forth a way to explain what to do, how to do, what could be experienced, and what shouldn’t be experienced.

He developed a whole new language to explain yoga! He gave us a way to study the asana, to study the body, and with Patanjali’s help to study the mind.

B.K.S. Iyengar developed these maps for us, and his children—Geeta, Prashant, and Sunita—played a key role in helping us clarify and interpret them.

They pointed out important highlights, the things we should pay attention to. They pointed out the hazards and obstacles to be avoided. Over the years, many Senior Teachers, including Abhijata, have further illuminated this map for us. With time and practice, we’ve come to weave it into every aspect of our embodiment.

Please take a moment today: Think about the exhilaration you feel in standing poses, or backbends. We can thank BKS Iyengar for teaching us how to practice these poses, and access this positive experience. Close your eyes in savasana and you can go to the deepest, most quiet place inside yourself. We can thank Guruji for this too, and more.

I hope today you will celebrate in some way, offering gratitude for what this practice has done for you. Perhaps you will pick up one of his books, listen to a video, and most importantly: PRACTICE.

Blessings,

Heather Haxo Phillips

Krista del Gallo: Austin

I just learned of George’s passing through the Austin Iyengar yoga circle. I’m so sorry that he’s no longer with us here on earth. I only was able to meet and take class with George, the infamous “yoga cowboy,” once when I traveled to Dallas for work around 15 years ago.

In just one class, through George’s astute instructions, I anchored my heels to the floor in downward facing dog for the first time. He noticed in my upward facing bow my carrying angle; and worked with me after class on the yoga horse to feel the action required to straighten my arms.  

He also told a yoga joke. When talking about the armpit and the “armpit chest.” He said, “In India they use different deodorants for the different parts of the armpit.”  I said, “Really?”  He chuckled and said, “No.” 

Thank you for honoring him.

Mary Scott: Georgetown

George brought so much joy and humor into his classes.  He will be greatly missed.  

I still remember the 5-minute wall sit he had us do in San Marcos. He said he and John Friend would do 5-minute wall sits and handstands as “attitude adjusters.”

Emilie Rogers: San Antonio

I don’t know when I heard this story, but let’s just say it’s true — stranger stories have been told about our dear teacher George! Back in the day, before most people knew what yoga was, George and Dean Lerner started practicing yoga from B.K.S. Iyengar’s book, Light on Yoga. Dean wrote Mr. Iyengar to tell him that the asanas were “uncomfortable,” to which Guruji replied, “I am not interested in your comfort.”

Of course, that prompted these good old Texas boys to go to India to studywith him. George loved to tell that story about Dean’s letter. George was the first senior level Iyengar Yoga teacher in the state. His delightful, inspiring teaching touched so many. He was my friend, teacher, and is in my heart forever.

Esta Herold: Austin

George’s demeanor was always:

• Welcoming

• Kind

• Calm

• Compassionate

• Fun 

• Funny 

Because of his clear instructions and inventive demonstrations, I always enjoyed his classes. I continue to teach what he taught and will miss his sweet soul.

Arlene Fisher: Houston

Oh how much we will miss George and what a delight! He brought such a wonderful sense of humor and Texas texture to our yoga practice in Houston. Maybe it was a combination of the cowboy boots with turquoise yoga shorts, his craving for moon pies and love for cats. George was an amazing yogi. I so appreciated his enthusiasm and encouragement. He will always be in our heart.

David Gillis: San Antonio environs

I met George many, many years ago in Houston at the home of another teacher and friend of mine, Bekir Algan. We shared yoga and great conversations during those early times. Over the years, I attended workshops with George in Austin, Houston, and Dallas, from which I gained a deeper understanding and depth in my personal yoga journey. His Iyengar background provided us with the skills to teach in the most effective way and offered the yoga community a practical approach to their practice. He will be greatly missed. The gift of his teachings will go on forever through the students and fellow teachers he touched. Goodbye my friend!

Peggy Kelley: formerly of Austin, now in New York

A memory of George Purvis and Dean Lerner from attending an Angela Farmer workshop at Feathered Pipe Ranch way back in the late 80’s or early 90’s.

Angela, then still considered an Iyengar teacher, had spent some time in the workshop classes explaining how we could, and I quote: “open the eyes in the back of our thighs” to improve our asana practice. On the last night of the workshop, Dean and George danced onto the impromptu stage in the main hall with “googly eyes” somehow fastened to the backs of their thighs. What a hoot! I just wish we had a photo. See it in your mind’s eye!

Speaking of Feathered Pipe, I also remember some “Yogathons” that George would hold in Dallas to help raise money for Feathered Pipe, a ranch and retreat center in Montana that ran as a nonprofit organization. These events involved volunteer yogis who would invite those present to bet on how long theycould hold a pose. I cannot now remember if it was George or Bekir Algan who held Utkatasana for 15 minutes, which did raise significant funds and caused lots of cheering. It was the first and only 15-minute Utkatasana I have ever witnessed.

At the Mexican Yoga Association Convention in Ajijic, Mexico in 2014, George was an invited international teacher. Of course, he sported his funny yoga bloomers (Diana Lyons in Dallas made them) — some with cowboy motifs, and I remember at least one pair with turtles on them. What was more amazing for many attendees was that a body type like George’s — thick and broad like a football player’s — actually demonstrated both simple and complicated asanas with great grace and skill.

George was both a technician (like his teacher Ramanand Patel, an engineer) and a great-hearted human being (like another of his teachers, Mary Dunn). He brought both of them to Dallas when I was fairly new in Texas. I was so grateful. We later had a real Austin Iyengar sangha and invited George, Ramanand, and Mary to teach workshops in Austin.

He started one workshop class by saying that it may be a bad sign when you say to yourself that you have an asana “in your pocket” so to speak. As the years roll by, I feel the wisdom of that comment. Of course, George was frequently asked to help the group with “performance poses” like hanumanasana and dwi pada viparita dandasana, because of his well-known skill in demonstrating them.

His solo demonstration at the 1990 San Diego convention is available here:

It’s under seven minutes long, accompanied by lovely Indian music, features George alone in a startlingly shiny blue leotard and is definitely worth a look. When I ran into him right afterwards I told him I thought he had given an amazing performance. He shook his head and said he had not done everything just as he had planned, ever humble.

Years later, when he became a cancer survivor, I remember him telling us that he had to get to a cancer survivor support group after an assessors’ meeting in Houston. Apparently, in an interview he later explained that he put himself through the grueling process of cancer treatment (twice) “to give hope to others.” That was George — giving hope and encouragement to everyone around him.

Most of all I remember George for his good humor and lighthearted ways of inspiring us to to work hard. He was one of a kind and a true Texas yoga pioneer. He will be deeply missed and long remembered.

Constance Braden: Houston

I’ll be forever grateful to George, the Big Turtle, for the clarity and vitality of his teaching. He changed my life completely and utterly for the better in lasting ways. The studio he helped found here in Houston is still flourishing after 30 years. We still share stories about George.

Not one to take an interest in pranayama or the Sutras, he brought spirit and soul to his classes through vitality, joy, and spontaneity, through his pranks and often irreverent sense of humor, and through lots and lots of handstands and backbends. People here still wear his “You will do yoga!” T-shirt. He was so funny! I’m still laughing.  

Dean Lerner: State College, PA

I don’t know anyone that did not like George! George was an inspired practitioner and teacher, uniquely stylish dresser (the more outrageous the clothing, the better it looked on him), a huge jokester, and a most compassionate and loving person through and through.

Recalling the letter Emilie Rogers mentioned: Actually I wrote Mr. Iyengar when I was living in the woods in northwest Arkansas…. at least a year or so before I moved back to Ft. Worth and met George. Yes, I was practicing from his book, and Guruji wrote back, “I am not interested in your comfort, but the precision with which you do the poses.”

One of my other favorite stories was the time Guruji came to Dallas and stayed at George’s house. George asked Guruji for his autograph and gave him an indelible ink marker — with which Guruji signed the wall with a three-foot-long signature!  Cynthia Roe confirmed that the signature eventually faded and can no longer be seen.

George himself can no longer be seen, yet it’s clear from the memories above that he made an indelible impression on countless people. We were lucky to know him.

Memories collated by Emilie Rogers and Peggy Kelley

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Event Details

Format: Live online classes

Schedule (ET):

Friday, May 9

• John Schumacher – 10 a.m. to 12 p.m.

• Patricia Walden – 4 p.m. to 6 p.m.

Saturday, May 10

• Chris Saudek – 10 a.m. to 12 p.m.

• Joan White – 1 p.m. to 3 p.m.

• Neeta Datta – 4 p.m. to 6 p.m.

Sunday, May 11

• Rebecca Lerner (Pranayama) – 10 a.m. to 12 p.m.

• James Murphy – 1 p.m. to 3 p.m.

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Geeta S. Iyengar is the eldest daughter of the late Shri B.K.S. Iyengar.  She was born on December 7, 1944. She begin trying to do yoga poses  while playing near her father while he was practicing. As a young girl she  suffered from health issues and nearly succumbed to nephritis, a kidney  disease. When traditional medicine failed her father stepped in and  treated her with yoga. At the age of 9 he told her that if she didn’t practice  she would die. 

I met Geeta in 1976 on my first visit to Pune. I was awed by the depth  and breadth of her practice. We became friends in 1991 during the back bend intensive when I talked with her about how much responsibility she  had outside of the intensive itself. While most of us had the freedom to  go back to our respective rooms and lie down, Geeta had to go home and  manage all of her household duties and her editing chores without any  time to rest. For those who know her only through her books, her teaching  and her therapeutics, in addition to her eagle eyes you may be interested  to learn that she is warm, kind, compassionate, humble, funny and a  very fine raconteur.

JW: The interview is about practice you know. We wanted to know the  story of how you started to practice from your own experience. 

GI: So, how I started. OK. I tell you, it’s my experience how I started.  I was weak as a child. After having nephritis I became weaker, like  a vegetable. After about a one year gap, I had jaundice, then I had  typhoid, malaria, and influenza. Like that it went on and on. The  weakness was there. I asked Guruji, “What should I do because  of this weakness?” He said, “Nothing. Just concentrate on your  Śīrṣāsana and Sarvāṅgāsana.” And I realized by doing those, at  least the day went well. I didn’t feel absolutely collapsed from inside.  And that is how I started doing yoga. He said, “Keep on doing your  other āsanas as well as Śīrṣāsana and Sarvāṅgāsana.” At that  time sequencing was unknown to him. I was just nine years old and  Guruji was busy with his work. He was not that free. But he said,  “You just do āsanas, and only that will give you relief.” He told me,  “Keep doing āsanas. If you don’t do āsanas you’ll die.” 

JW: Did he really say that? 

GI: Yes, that is what he said. You have to remember to do or die. And  when he said this I just became disciplined and stuck with it. There’s  no other word I can use. The moment I started doing, I used to feel  better. So I told my mother I would go upstairs—there was one  balcony-type room upstairs—and practice. My mother knew whatever time I got home from school, even if it was past 6:00 pm, I would  do yoga and then come and have something to eat. 

My mother saw that I was disciplined and she told my father that I  practiced every day. There was no book I could read, and no picture  album for me to look at when I started in 1954-55. I started doing  whatever I knew, I was just practicing. My health came back to some  extent. At least I could sit to do homework, and I could read. Otherwise all the time you can’t imagine how fatiguing it was for me. Then  I wanted to learn new āsanas. Guruji had prepared an album in 1951 or 1954, but he had not let anybody see it. Guruji’s photographs were  in the album and later when I asked to see it he said “you have to use  it and put it back in the cupboard and not just leave it lying around.”  

So I used to be very careful. Whatever āsanas were in the album I  practiced. Almost all the āsanas and more, like Vīrabhadrāsana IV were there, which he did not put in Light On Yoga. He wanted  to put it in Light On Yoga but the publisher said the manuscript was  too big, and he should take out the āsanas that were minor and just  include the major ones. So all the āsanas were only in the album. I  was curious – “I wanted to try this āsana, try that āsana, that were  in the album.” And as Guruji had said, I practiced Śīrṣāsana and  Sarvāṅgāsana very regularly. My body was supple and I was thin  because I had not put on fat anywhere. Everybody whenever they  used to see me would say “She is very thin,” because my younger  sister Vanita was looking better. They could make out that she was  healthy but that I was not healthy. That was how I picked up the  āsanas from the album. Then the interest came and I proceeded  further.  

JW: Is there any particular event from that time that you remember?  Was it achieving some āsana – or anything that you remember that  just stands out in your mind?  

GI: Well the first that stands out is that I had diet restrictions.  

Accordingly, I ate the food my mother prepared according to the  doctor’s instructions. My father used to come home late around 8,  8:30, 9:00…so he didn’t know what we did during the daytime other  than going to school. I had a list of āsanas and I used to mark on the  paper what āsanas I did that day so I would not forget. If I didn’t do  something there would be a cross next to the āsana. In the beginning,  a little break was there but otherwise I practiced continuously. When I  saw that I had practiced for thirty days I told my mother “Mama I did  thirty days with no break, even Sunday when it was a school holiday.”  In that manner, when I practiced I was happy. Then my mother told  my father, “Now she is very regular and she ticks there on her paper  what she has done,” and the first thing Guruji said was, “Whatever it  may be just see that she eats one apple a day because some nourishment is required.” And that is how I started eating an apple a day. 

At the age of seven, before nephritis, I had given a demonstration  with Guruji. It was in a public library in Pune called Nagar Vachan  Mandir and Guruji did the demonstration and I stood behind him  and followed him not knowing the names of the āsanas. If he was  doing Tāḍāsana, I’d stand in Tāḍāsana; if he did Trikoṇāsana I did Trikoṇāsana; if he did Ūrdhva Dhanurāsana I would lie  down and push up into Ūrdhva Dhanurāsana. And that was how  I demonstrated even though Guruji said I should just stand there if  I didn’t know the āsana. So I did stand for some of them, but I did  quite a few āsanas in that demonstration. And that was perhaps a  turning point, in a way. I started liking yoga from the age of seven  but because of the weakness at the age of nine, and after nephritis I  had to find out what to do because my body was absolutely dry. My  whole body felt dry from inside and I had tremendous dehydration.  I had no strength to do my work but I used to work in the house  because everybody used to say I was weak. So I said, “I must not show that I am a weak person. So let me do the household work, so  whatever was there I used to do. And my mother also said, “Keep on  doing some work so that your body and mind remain engaged and  it’ll be better.”  

Another event is when I had jaundice. At that time my father said,  “Do a lot of Jānuśīrṣāsana.” As I started doing Jānuśīrśāsana I  understood that when you stay in an āsana for a long time or repeat  the āsana, it changes your state of mind. With jaundice there’s a sort of heaviness you feel, Somehow Jānuśīrśāsana helped me. I can’t explain how it helped me but I used to do Jānuśīrśāsana—right, left, right, left— continuing like that five times, six times, what ever times possible for me and that gave me a great relief. Then I  understood that repetition of an āsana helps you to improve the  āsana. And then I started repeating the āsanas for example I did one were just sideways, not even taken back, I felt I wanted to find out  how I could still do better. This simply came from that understanding of what Guruji always used to say, “Stretch, extend,” these kinds  of words. I felt that I must press my upper arms with my thighs, pressing them I should just get the pose. And when I pressed them, my thighs and seat came up. And the moment they came up, the lightness I felt was great. You know, that’s all experience, how the  lightness comes. And when the lightness came to me I could extend my trunk forward in Kūrmāsana. Then it was easier to take the arms back, it was easier to hold the wrists at the back for Suptakūrmāsana and from there the brain started working that yes, you have to really  sometimes knot the body in that manner. If I am clear it gives the freedom and then knotting becomes possible. That understanding came later but I understood that you just move the arms over  and knot(clasp) and then it would come nicely like knotting in  Padmāsana, knotting in Vīrāsana, so closeness I started experiencing. It’s the same in all three poses. These are the three stages where I  understood. Then when Guruji was teaching, I used to observe what  he said, what he explained, and that gave me a further understanding  about it.  

JW: So that was when you were nine years old, 10 years old? 

GI: Yes, absolutely. I remember that from seven years old, let me see,  so in 1960, 61 that practice was very good. Light on Yoga came later -  after 1961 it came. Then from the book I started understanding and I  used to always check with the names in the book.  

Guruji had given me work after the manuscript was ready. Before  he took the manuscript to London to be published he made me and  Vanita compare the actual photographs with the number, name and  numbered plates in the manuscript. He said, “Check whether all the  photographs and names of the āsanas tally. If anything is missing,  you tell me.” He had done that already earlier but he wanted me to  sit and find out. So really I just took those photographs and tallied it with all the numbers. 

The second job was giving right and left side descriptions while doing  the pose. I don’t know whether he wanted to examine me or what.  “You do the Trikoṇāsana on right side and explain everything and  while doing you have to use the word left. And then if doing on the left, you have to use the word right.” That way, he asked me to check,  and that I remember very well, I did that for the Light on Yoga book.  And that’s how I learned the names of the āsanas. 

JW: Did that inspire you to try more and more āsanas because you  were looking at them? 

GI: That interest was there from the very beginning. Even seeing the album I would try on my own. How he was doing Paryaṅkāsana,  Parighāsana, where the hand was, you know, that kind of thing. And Kūrmāsana - OK, second time let me see if Kūrmāsana comes better.  And that is how I started and improvement came in me to a great  extent. One day I did only Kūrmāsanas because that was a difficult  āsana for me.  

It is a difficult āsana because the hands have to go inside, arms have  to go backwards, or you have to cross your legs for Suptakūrmāsana etc., so as it came to me, in that first Kūrmāsana where the arms like Yogadaṇḍāsana, how he was doing, Kaṇḍāsana, even if it was  not achieved, I would just at least try to see how it came. And then  when it came, of course, that was an achievement. 

JW: That was a milestone. 

GI: Yes, definitely. And by 1962-63 I had done all the āsanas from Light on Yoga. By 1963 I was doing all the āsanas I was able to do, but I was weak.

JW: How could you be weak and do all the āsanas? I don’t understand that. 

GI: Yes, later my health further deteriorated when my mother died.  Then my responsibility increased in different directions. Up to that  time my recovery had increased a lot when my mother was there. I  could bear all the responsibility of the family because of that early  health crisis, and the 10-12 years of practice and what I had achieved.  I was 27 when my mother expired. 

JW: 27?  

GI: I was 27-28, something like that. But that responsibility was a very  big responsibility. Because all the children were still young and in  school. We had to arrange among ourselves what to cook, who will  cook, who will make sure there is gas for the cooker, who would do  the pūjā in the house, at least we had to light the lamp in front of the  Lord. Vanita was married, so myself, Sunita, and Sujita, had to decide  how to distribute the duties according to their college hours. Sujita  had morning college, Sunita had afternoon college, and I had to go to  my tuitions. In that way we adjusted. My mothers passing was a big  loss not just physical, but mental. 

JW: Losing a mother is the hardest… 

GI: Yes, it was very difficult. Then the Institute came. In 1973 she  expired, 1975 the institute building was ready. In 1974 the house was  ready, so shifting, arranging, all that took a little time. 

JW: What happened to your practice during that period of time?  

GI: Practice I used to do regularly but the difference is now that  if I have to walk from this door to that door, it takes five or seven  minutes for me. But in those days, I used to be quick. If I had to do  my balancing, it took me not more than 20 minutes to finish all the  balancings. Similarly, backbending not more than 30 minutes or so –  Viparīta Daṇḍāsana, Maṇḍalāsana, Vṛśchikāsana, everything. All  the backbends as Guruji used to do with his sequences. I sometimes  tell people what his sequence was when he used to do backbends. My  body was quick to respond to Śīrṣāsana, Sarvāṅgāsana variations.  If I had to do Padmāsana in Śīrṣāsana that was not difficult for me. I  would do Padmāsana, turn to this side, turn to that side, bend down,  everything was possible. I learned at that time to do many  things sideways, Pārśva Piṇḍāsana, Śīrṣāsana, etc. Problems were there. I mean looking after the house, people  coming and going, guests in the house. When Guruji was  not available, I had to talk to them, you know, provide tea,  coffee, refreshments whatever was required. And then I  also had practice and teaching my class. My classes at that  time were the school classes, national defense academic  classes for the cadets. So that was how it went.  

And one more story from that period. Guruji was teaching  in 1955 in the National Defense Academy. The cadets were  taught to do yoga, and because of that earlier experience,  I was seven, Guruji asked me to demonstrate something  I hadn’t done before. He asked me to stand and drop back into Ūrdhva Dhanurāsana. I only knew how to do  Ūrdhva Dhanurāsana from the floor. I never knew how  to stand and drop back. Because all the cadets were doing  outside on the grass, Guruji asked me in front of them, “to show  dropping back from Ūrdhva Dhanurāsana.” And you won’t believe  it. I stood there and took my arms over my head and dropped back  and showed them Ūrdhva Dhanurāsana. How did it come? I myself  was surprised at how I could drop back on my arms. And then when  I did that I got the courage. Now I can drop back. So when I came  home I tried to drop back by putting a pillow under my head, or  dropping with my palms on the wall to perfect the āsana so I was  sure that I could drop the palms down in Ūrdhva Dhanurāsana.  Accidentally I learnt Ūrdhva Dhanurāsana.  

JW: That’s a great story. 

GI: The courage was there from the very beginning. That is definite.  How the courage was there, I don’t know but I was courageous. I was  physically courageous, mentally courageous. Now as you see, I look  sick in these last few years, this sickness has killed me. That was not  there then. Though I was not well, the doctors also knew that this  disease would change me. They said my muscles would fail. That’s  why earlier they said be careful of the muscles, but I never thought  they would fail so much. 

JW: When we were in the backbending intensive, and you had the  back problem, was that a turning point when your back started to  bother you? 

GI: Yes, I had to learn myself. At certain times, I had to relearn āsanas. 1962 was a very bad period. Learning so much after 1963 or 64 my balancing went very badly. What I had learnt quickly, I just started losing. I had to attempt a second time to see that I got all the  balancings. I did it but perhaps that was the period where the body  started becoming a bit stiff.  

JW: 1963–64. So you were still in your 20’s? 

GI: It showed at 20 and again at 25 both these stages body stiffness were there. Then I had to redo myself to get that freedom. And I did. Balancing, of course, came back and then backbending went bad. It started giving pain after the marriages of my sisters, and deliveries of  their babies, all that happened when the back went wrong. I used to  bathe the small babies. Even now they like my massaging or bathing them. The little one of Harit’s, when I touch her she is happy. They all used to like my massaging and bathing them. But when all these responsibilities were there – getting them married, their deliveries, or certain celebrations we have in between after getting married, these things all taxed my body.  

There came a time when a youngish woman was brought to the  Institute who was unable to walk. She couldn’t walk or stand without  a cane. Guruji said that the woman was in very bad condition, her  father had asked him to take her case in the medical class. I said, I  don’t want to work with her because my back otherwise will become  very bad. He said, “What to do? We are yoga teachers so we have to  suffer and do but we have to help them also.” At that time whenever my lower back would get a catch I could remove that backache  through my practice. But later it became very difficult for me. I just  could not remove the pain. My back started deteriorating. And then  the doctors said that this is not just a backache or anything of that  kind, but my muscles were failing. They said this problem is a connective tissue disorder because of my nephritis. The outer muscles are  connected to the bone by connective tissue. 

JW: Approximately when was that? 

GI: It started in 2003. I travelled outside of India in 2002-2003 but I  started feeling that something was failing inside. So when I went to  Dr. Naik in 2003 to find out what was wrong with me, I said, “Such  a quick moving body; now it doesn’t move and there is a stiffness I feel.” Even simple Svastikāsana sometimes used to be stiff, though  I was doing Padmāsana, etc. The poses I could do easily, I now felt  stiffness and could feel they were not coming easily. Then deterioration started. When my right shoulder was dislocated, the doctors said, “No this is definitely connective tissue which is giving way. You  have to be careful. You can’t exert yourself. On days you feel tired or fatigued, rest, don’t work, because anything can dislocate. It has only  happened to the right shoulder but from now onwards be careful.”  

Then Guruji made me do Paripūrṇa Matsyendrāsana, Yoga  Daṇḍāsana, Kaṇḍāsana, Mūla Kaṇḍāsana, my body was not  responding at all to those āsanas, he said toes, ankles, everything was  going wrong. Even sitting in Vīrāsana was difficult. So he put me  in Vīrāsana, with traction for my back to find out what was going  on. Later my back became so weak that now even just walking feels awkward. But what can be done? I mean you cannot do anything  when your back is affected like that. My practice goes on, even in  Utthita Hasta Pādāṅguṣṭhāsana I need somebody’s help. I can’t lift  my leg on my own so I lift it a bit then I ask Sindhu or Rajlakshmi to  help me. Rajlakshmi was waiting for me, she thought I would come  today for practice, but so many people were leaving, certificates had  to be signed, letters had to be answered, all those problems were there  so I could not practice this morning. I don’t think tomorrow also I  will do. My practice will start only after I come back from Bangalore.  And I need help. I can lie down in Viparīta Daṇḍāsana but if I have  to get up, somebody has to help me so my back doesn’t get jerked.  So with their help I do my practice. I do rope Śīrṣāsana, I can go  on the chair for Sarvāṅgāsana, Viparīta Karaṇī, forward bend as  is possible – whatever is possible I just keep on doing. But for that I  can’t blame anyone. It’s just my fate. You can’t blame anyone for that.  It’s fate.

JW: Can you remember, at what point your practice changed from an  external practice to a more internal practice?  

GI: Yes, that started to happen somewhere in late 60s. Somewhere  after 66-67, because Guruji’s book was there. So a bit of the art  of observation started to come from looking at the postures. In  Ekapāda Rājakapotāsana you can just go and hold your foot but  seeing the photographs gave me a certain clue how you resist your  back foot, etc. and then the head has to reach the foot. Earlier I  used to pull the foot toward my head in Ekapāda Rājakapotāsana or Rājakapotāsana. Then this understanding came that the foot  remains there only and head has to go along with the chest and back  to reach the foot. Then when Vālakhilyāsana came into my prac tice, I realized that literally you have to pull the leg back to touch the  floor and my trunk had to bend back. So these pictures in the book  started giving me the clues and moreover, in 1962 Guruji started  general class in Pune. Until then, it was all private tuition either one  to one, or 3-4 people. He could only take a maximum of six people  as space was limited. Guruji used to teach those people Trikoṇāsana,  Pārśvakoṇāsana, turning of the chest, moving the buttocks in, etc.  Some foreigners started coming at that time to our old house. So at  that time whenever I had free time, apart from my college because at  that time I was in college, I used to attend when Guruji was teach ing. When he explained I better understood what the rotation of the  trunk meant, what bending actions meant, etc. His explanations took  me to penetrate further inside. So I will say that by intuition only, I  had that feel of going inward or looking into the pose. That tendency sharpened or was more exact when I saw Guruji teaching. In general  classes when I was demonstrating in front of everyone, I had that  sense that I should not do wrongly, so I had to be sure my leg wasn’t  crooked, my knee wasn’t bent, my foot was completely turned. Those kinds of things made me understand more deeply.  

JW: Did you always have a prāṇāyāma practice? I know you have a  very strong prāṇāyāma practice now. 

GI: Yes, these past few years when I was not well, and āsanas were  not possible prāṇāyāma became clearer to me. In the past there was  always a rush to finish my prāṇāyāma and then come to the Institute  and do the āsanas, etc. Then when my āsana practice became dull sharpened or was more exact when I saw Guruji teaching. In general classes when I was demonstrating in front of everyone, I had that sense that I should not do wrongly, so I had to be sure my leg wasn’t crooked, my knee wasn’t bent, my foot was completely turned. Those kinds of things made me understand more deeply.

JW: Did you always have a prāṇāyāma practice? I know you have a very strong prāṇāyāma practice now.

GI: Yes, these past few years when I was not well, and āsanas were not possible prāṇāyāma became clearer to me. In the past there was always a rush to finish my prāṇāyāma and then come to the Institute and do the āsanas, etc. Then when my āsana practice became dull or slow, and when I really started getting the pains all over, my prāṇāyāma started coming very well. I started prāṇāyāma around the age of 17. Guruji told me to do Ujjāyi and Viloma. In 1961 we went to Madras – it was a holiday for all of us six children. And at that time Guruji’s guru was kind enough to receive us. And during that time he taught me, he said, “Geeta, tomorrow five o’clock you have to get up and come to my room and I am going to teach you prāṇāyāma.” So I used to be ready and go and sit in front of him and he gave all this Viloma. He also gave certain clues about Viloma prāṇāyāma that Guruji had told me before. But starting was from Ujjāyi and Viloma prāṇāyāma.

JW: Did he teach you digital prāṇāyāma?

GI: No digital he didn’t teach. I learnt digital from Guruji only. It was about 1963, we had one student who had a factory and in that factory there was a hall – it was nearby. The student said, “I will give you that hall and [in return] you teach us prāṇāyāma.” Some of the students were friends and they said, “Why not start a prāṇāyāma class?” Once in awhile we used to learn prāṇāyāmas in the house in the same room where Guruji taught āsana. But when the hall was available he taught a general class. In the beginning, he started doing a deep Śavāsana so we used to be on our back for almost 40-45 minutes with detailed explanation. We used to like Śavāsana – it was very nice. You really forgot everything with your eyes closed, ok, you’re completely out of this world. We started enjoying this. Then in 1962 when he started the classes in that factory hall, Guruji started teaching digital prāṇāyāma because those people asked him to teach them  digital prāṇāyāma, Nāḍi sodhana, or whatever, because at that time  the Light on Yoga book had just come out. They had read Anuloma, Pratiloma prāṇāyāma, etc. They thought why not learn all this and  that’s how the classes started. I was in the class. I used to go to college  and right away after finishing my science practicals, I used to come  and be in the hall to study prāṇāyāma. Guruji was teaching, and I was doing.  

One day I remember we had an examination, theory as well as practical. I had not even recovered from the tension of the examination or  writing when I came to the class. First he started with sitting in meditation and I was sitting and I felt dizzy and he immediately made me  lie down. I was on my back, he released my legs and class started as usual. After 30-45 minutes I realized I was not doing anything and  I was just on my back. Then he asked me, “What happened?” [You  know how he says it.] So I said, “I don’t know.” Then other people  asked, “What happened? Why should she fell dizzy like that?” He said, “She has already exerted herself in the college because the whole  day there were examinations. Two papers – one physics paper, chemistry paper, practicals, etc. She should not have come but should have  remained in the house and rested.” But I wanted to go. I wouldn’t  miss one class because once you miss, it’s a miss. So I went there and  that’s what happened. I had a lot of fatigue on that day but then I  recovered. And I used to go regularly. There he started with the rest of  the prāṇāyāmas, digital prāṇāyāma also. Then we shifted from that  first hall to Vidya Bhavan as Father Lobo was the principal there. He  gave us a hall and we used that hall for the prāṇāyāma class. Guruji  taught us more about digital prāṇāyāma, and other things like  Antara kumbhaka and Bāhya kumbhaka. I used to come and write  notes because he said different things on different days. And when he  was writing his prāṇāyāma book, Light On Prāṇāyāma I gave him  my own notes and he was able to refer to them when he was writing  the prāṇāyāma book. 

JW: So are a lot of your notes in Light On Prāṇāyāma? 

GI: Yes. I had to write down whatever he used to teach on that day.  If it was Antara Kumbhaka I had to note it down. The moment he  said, “OK, as you hold the breath, lift the inner soul upward” I would  note it down. We didn’t understand the inner soul but something came  up, so I wrote it down in that language only. Then he, of course, for  the book language, corrected it. Something from the center has to come up otherwise sinking is there. Gurujii used my notes but not in my language. And later the book came out. 

JW: How would you describe the important stages in the evolution of  your practice?  

GI: I won’t say everything was evolution because my body failed at  a certain stage. I have already said how I conquered the āsanas one  after the other. I was doing them and my body was responding well.  Sometimes I used to ask my sisters, Vanita or Sunita, whoever was  nearby, to help me so my head came close to my foot for Kapotāsana.  And then sometimes I would guide them to lift my pelvis up and  then take the hands back, it didn’t matter I was ready to face the pain.  They were used to my body resisting them. Otherwise when you go  and touch someone they resist first and you might not continue with  the adjustment. So having that in the back of my mind that I have to  do the pose, if I ask them to lift up or pull me in the direction I want,  they would do it and that is how I would get Kapotāsana. Vanita also had that understanding. She had some teaching capacities in  her because earlier she was coming to the classes, etc. but then after  marriage and family she left. Similarly Sunita had the touch because  many times she helped me in Virparīta Chakrāsana, to lift and  drop me. Sometimes I used to do it on my own. It used to happen.  And sometimes, if the touch was there, I could lift my buttocks or  waistline slightly further up. And that is how I learned and evolution  was happening. Involution, whether it happens or not, I don’t know  but I tell you sometimes, even this disease is a blessing. If you have  no problem, you just proceed but when the problem comes, there the  question mark comes to a great extent. In 1961-62, as I said, I lost my  balancings after getting them. That was the period where I really had  to think about where the spine actually twists in Pārśva Kukuṭāsana  or Pārśva Bakāsana.  

That means, first somehow the āsana just comes but in the second  attempt at learning you begin to penetrate, “Oh I lost because of  this. I have to do this and then only it comes.” That guidance was  great from inside. I realized what the practical problems were in those āsanas if somebody has to learn them. The worst part was when I got  this attack, in 2002 it started, of muscle failing, gradually. Certain  āsanas I was doing. I was still standing on my head or standing on  my shoulders without any support. But even with support, I lost  my full arm balance one day. I just jumped and jumped and my  legs wouldn’t go. I was the person who was all the time showing the  others how we have to learn standing far away from the wall, going  and putting the palms and jumping up. So all these things, even if it  was gymnastics style, I could show them that this is how to do. Then  I realized that I couldn’t stand on my arms. My upper arm failed like  anything. That was the bad point. But during that process I understood that when I could not do the āsanas, I started working on  prāṇāyāma and there I understood the depth of prāṇāyāma still further. That was the turning point, in that manner. So I started remembering, otherwise, like everyone we are in a hurry, I mean though it’s not fast, somewhere we do some Sūrya Bhedana, Chandra,  Bhedana, and finish it off quickly. OK some Śavāsana, prāṇāyāma, some sitting prāṇāyāma, Antara Kumbhaka, or whatever we do. But  then I realized that since I cannot do so many āsanas, I could do  these prāṇāyāmas in two or three stages - Go to Śavāsana, recover,  come out, do one stage – prāṇāyāma of that type which is suitable  to me at that time, again go to Śavāsana, again get up, do whatever  Guruji had earlier taught, or when Guruji had told me earlier which  I explained in the convention also, that one side how to do Nādi  Sodhana - at least have exhalation, inhalation, then come to Ujjāyi cycle then do on the other side. So I started studying in that manner  and that gave me a better understanding of prāṇāyāma.  

As far as the ongoing process or what I explained in the class, literally to you people, how you have to become withdrawn, etc. I think that my way of doing has taught me how to do this. Only it takes a  long time to verbalize it. Experience, whatever experience we have,  cannot be verbalized easily. But I started to put it in that manner  so words also can at least convey something like that to those who  are doing the practice. And there are still many cassettes available  on prāṇāyāma where I have taught all this, Bhastrika, Bhrahmari,  Nāḍi Sodhana, etc. Earlier they were not taping all this. When my  father was teaching at that time there was no facility at all to tape, so  that part is gone. What demonstrations he gave, that part is gone. It  used to be wonderful so we started putting it on paper. On Thursdays  when he started classes on prāṇāyāma, the notes that I took were  so important for me, and then of course, Guruji also used them,  elaborating further, teaching is one thing, but elaborating word  wise is quite different. So those points have been included in his  prāṇāyāma book.  

JW: Do you think you have another book in you? Do you think about  writing another book? 

GI: You know I have already—in 2013 when Guruji was still there  —one of the newspapers asked me for an article only on  Guruji’s philosophy or approach. They said, don’t give  āsanas, how to do Trikoṇānsana or Śīrṣāsana. The editor  had read at least a few volumes of Aṣṭadala Yogamālā.  So he telephoned me, he was Guruji’s friend as well as  our friend, I mean the press person. He said, “I want  the articles from you on Sundays in which you would  be mentioning how Guruji developed his philosophy or  what was his approach when he was teaching yogāsanas or  prāṇāyāma, etc.” So I agreed in December 2013 to write  a series of articles between 700 and 800 words. I wrote  almost 50 articles from June 2013 to May 2014, that was the  last article. I took Guruji’s topic in which he named all the  seven steps of yoga. He explained all of these seven stages  in a lecture on Guru Pūrṇimā day and his words were in  my head. So I told Guruji that I would take this topic and  I would use it as a starting point to write on as his philosophy talks progressed. All 50 of the articles were written on  the seven stages. I used the 50 articles I had and elaborated  and expanded on them originally writing in Marathi  to produce a book of almost 70 chapters. The book in  Marathi should be coming out this April (2016). The editor called me while classes were going on, he said, “Give me the pictures  for the book because I had the picture numbers for the āsanas like  Baddhakoṇāsana, Vīrāsana, etc. I was busy but Sunita did that  job. Everything was ready and she kept it in the cover [envelope]  and sent it so now they have the pictures. After giving it to a group  of people to read, the editor telephoned me saying that the people  have accepted the book and say it will be good. Sunita then checked  everything and it has been sent to the editor and we are waiting for  the publication to come out. 

Meanwhile, I have told some of my students who are good at English, I said, “You start translating, free translation because Marathi  language expresses in one way and English has a different expression,  but you just start and I will go through that. If any Sanskrit word is  difficult to understand, use the Sanskrit word but give the translation of it so English people can understand. And we will publish it in  English also. If that comes you will see it’s a different book. 

Fortunately, when Guruji was still alive, Sunita used to read those  articles to him. When we went to Bellur in May (2014) to stay, that  was the first time, outside of Pune, that the whole family went to  stay with him except Prashant because he had to stay back to look  after the painting of the house, and the institute was being repaired,  etc. What kind of feeling came to Guruji, I don’t know. That was the  last trip of ours with Guruji, and then when we came back he was  no more in the month of August. He knows what I have written, so  when Sunita used to sometimes read and say this is the paragraph  which says what you are doing, etc., he liked it but when the book  was ready he was no more there. 

JW: Yes, very difficult. 

GI: And now it will be out, he won’t be there. What to do? JW: There’s nothing you can do. 

GI: Nothing you can do. 

JW: It’s really hard. 

GW: Yes, it is really hard. It can’t be easily digested. I still can't forget.  It sometimes upsets me, but I have to come out of that. 

JW: The first time I came back after he was gone, it was so difficult. At first I didn’t know if I could bear coming through these gates and not  seeing him. Then I thought, “OK, I’m through the gates, I’m in front  of the house, now I have to go in and go upstairs.” Then I thought,  

“No, I don’t think I can do that.” And I stayed down here in the front  hall. I couldn’t bring myself to go upstairs. And when I finally did go  upstairs it was such an empty feeling. Many times I still think I’m going to  see him in his corner and I feel his presence.  

GI: Yes, Joan, that is absolutely true. You know what these people say,  when they go for the practice upstairs, they feel that he is there. In  my ladies’ class, especially, he used to be there, Wednesday mornings  and Saturday mornings. When I am conducting the class, he used to  be in his corner, doing his inversions or whatever. So everybody says  that when I am conducting the class, it is as though he is there, his  presence is there and he is watching.  

JW: I feel it. 

GI: Yes, that is what everyone tells me. We feel his presence over  there, especially that place which was reserved. We used to keep the horse there so people wouldn’t enter from that side. Everyone tells  me that – that we feel that he is there practicing still. And that happens. For me it happens many times. It’s not a dream or it’s not the  information as such. But when I am doing, some clues come from  inside because my āsanas are that way OK, whatever I can do within  my limits. But arm work, shoulder work, when I have to do, they’re  not absolutely physiotherapy actions. When Guruji took me, after I  had problems with my hands, the way he lifted, or the way he took  my arms sideways; my arms were not moving, even now they’re not  moving. But while doing, whatever intelligence comes, I always feel  that it is coming from him. Message is coming from him. It can’t  come otherwise just on my own. So if either Sindhu or Rajlakshmi,  whoever is helping, I say just turn that way and find out if it comes.  Then I recognize, yes that is what he told me. Because all this is gone.  There is nothing here. Absolutely bony part. No flesh at all there and the joint  is completely out. So it comes, how it comes I don’t know. 

JW: But that is what he used to say. When I interviewed him he’d say  about all these things he did in therapeutics, “I don’t know. They just  come.” I have him on tape saying that.  

GI: Yes, that is true. It just comes. You have to be in it so that it just  comes. That’s a fact. Better not to give a thought in a different way to  it. Be in it and then you realize, “Oh, this is what is happening.” 

JW: That is amazing. 

GI: Amazing. Absolutely! 

JW: There are so many things I just would like to ask him. I’d like to  write him a letter. When things happen, my first thought is, “I need  to get in contact with Guruji.” 

GI: Shobana tells me many a time, he said, “Do Upaviṣṭhakoṇāsana this way.” As though the instruction is coming from somewhere  So she did and the pain was gone. She said, “I was just sitting in  Upaviṣṭhakoṇāsana and his voice said “Ey, Shobana do in this manner.” So she caught that somewhere the voice is coming. So she did  and she felt better. She said, “I don’t know where that instruction  came from when personally he is not there.” Many have told me that  as though instructions are coming from him. 

JW: The theme of the convention is practice from the periphery to the  core and back. What would you like to share with these convention  attendees and magazine readers about this theme? Is there anything  you’d like to say about the theme? 

GI: You know, those are Guruji’s words - periphery to core; core to  periphery. And that has a lot of meaning. In the process of going  toward the core, we may lose the core as well as the periphery. That  is a major part. We are in between. As we are traveling from one end  to the other end, if you reach your destination, it’s fine. If you don’t  reach and you are in between, then what will be the stage? You can  imagine; you are traveling and somewhere you are stuck and can’t  move in the natural journey. But here we find that it is an everyday  approach. You have to touch the periphery, go to the core, wherever  you are able to reach inside. Once if you even reach the core, then  again from there you have to return back to the periphery because  that gives you the understanding and knowledge. The knowledge  comes from the core. It says, “This is the thing where you have done  wrong.” Again, you have to go from the core to the periphery. And  that’s why in every āsana you feel, especially if you’re just practicing  one āsana after the other, that it’s peripheral because you haven’t gone and examined its depth. Sometimes time is short or we have  to go somewhere and we say, “OK, at least let me finish this much  practice.” And that much practice you finish according to your timing. At that time you cannot go to the core. But even in that process,  suppose you have decided that today I have no time and can do only  10 minutes of Śīrṣāsana and 10 minutes of Sarvāṅgāsana and there’s  no time at all for other things you may find those 10 minutes are of  such use that at a certain point you go in and from there you feel you  should not come out of the āsana. But external conditions are such  that you have to come out of the āsana, finish your Sarvāṅgāsana,  and go for your work. It could be any type of job - perhaps my signature is required, my presence is required, and I have to go for some  reason. But this is what happens and that’s why you should not get  stuck in the middle portion rather reach inside and then come out.  You need to live externally because your responsibilities are not going  to end. We can’t give up straight away.

JW: So I guess the message to the people attending is to ”just keep going.” 

GI: Keep on going and always watch from the body. Don’t deny the  body saying, “No this is the external practice.” Deal with that body  which is giving the problem - body, mind, intelligence. Go inside like  that up to your consciousness and perhaps up to the inner core.  

JW: Great answer. 

GI: That is how they have to learn and they should always remember,  “You can’t neglect the body even if it is not helping you in that way,  but still everyday you have to touch that practice. I can’t say that I  cannot do so let me keep quiet. Whatever happens with the body, let  it happen. Then only insight is possible and things do come. What  gives the freedom from inside, you cannot explain. It’s not some joint  and muscle that gives the freedom. Something inside gives the freedom at every level – psychological level, mental level. So as you keep  on doing you find there is a change. 

JW: Thank you so much for doing this inspiring interview. 

Watch Dawn's Story

When the teachers at Iyengar Yoga Detroit Collective (IYDC) noticed the racially and economically diverse student community at our center was not adequately represented in the greater Iyengar Yoga community, we wondered what we could do to change this situation. We recognized the richness of our community sprung from the racial, cultural, and social insights and experiences our students and teachers provided. We recognized one effective way of sharing this richness with the wider Iyengar Yoga community was to cultivate a broader community of teachers.

All over the world, anyone with money can get certified as a yoga teacher, sometimes within weeks. In contrast, certification in the Iyengar Yoga system requires years of practice, study, and coaching. This level of time and energy can be daunting and outright prohibitive for many people. Especially for those from communities that have been marginalized, such as PGM (People of the Global Majority, or BIPOC/Black, Indigenous, and People of Color), devoting oneself to a yoga practice can feel indulgent, expensive, and inaccessible. At IYDC, we asked ourselves what obstacles we could remove to make the commitment toward becoming a certified Iyengar Yoga teacher (CIYT) more attainable.

In 2019, we decided to turn the commodification of commercial yoga on its ear, by offering a PAID apprenticeship to BIPOC students who had been attending class for at least one year. Instead of them paying us, we would offer a full scholarship for classes, workshops, and study groups, as well as a monthly stipend to help cover needs like childcare, transportation, and food. The stipend would be available as needed, to any of our apprentices.

To our pleasant surprise, we received quite a few applications, even from students who did not attend class regularly. We created a pre-apprenticeship, providing a complementary class pass for them to build a consistent weekly rhythm. After a year of consistent attendance, they could apply for the full apprenticeship.

Sure enough, we have built a beautiful, racially and economically diverse teaching community that reflects the demographics of Detroit. Graduates of the BIPOC Paid Apprenticeship have become CIYTs, or are actively on the path, bringing the power of Iyengar Yoga to their families, friends, neighbors, and communities.

Such a program does require support. Our teachers donate their time and energy to mentoring the apprentices, or accept a modest honorarium as a gesture of appreciation for running monthly study groups. Nevertheless, IYDC still has expenses of rent, utilities, and teacher pay for weekly classes.

While our weekly classes help support our programs, many of our students participate through our Community Gift program, which provides sliding scale classes, beginning at $5. As a cooperative, IYDC’s economic model cultivates interdependence. Our students know we rely on them to keep our doors open. Instead of coming to class to be served, they come as community and cooperative members, eager to participate and contribute.

We encourage those who have financial means to pay more, so their classmates with lower incomes can still participate. All too often, people who contribute important and necessary unpaid labor to our communities, such as caregiving, art-making, political activism, food-growing, and spiritual practice, find themselves with lower incomes. We want them in our yoga classes!

Our culture of interdependence helped motivate our student, Na Forest Lim, to create this beautiful short film, about our dear apprentice, Dawn Ceballos. Dawn experienced a setback in her studies with a hip injury during pregnancy, but has nevertheless persisted, and remains committed to the path toward becoming a CIYT.

We hope Dawn’s story and IYDC’s story will inspire others within the Iyengar Yoga community to create and/or support similar programs. We know that many CIYTs generously give their time and energy to make Iyengar Yoga more accessible! Thank you for your love and devotion. Let’s keep supporting each other to remove the obstacles to learning and growth. In response, ALL our lives will be ever so much richer and abundant. Remember Guruji’s wise words, “Giving does not impoverish nor withholding enrich us.”

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As a student, practitioner and teacher of Iyengar Yoga I can certainly attest this to be true — provided access to the practice is also accessible.

Accessible (Dictionary.com 2024):

1. easy to approach, reach, enter, speak with, or use;

2. able to be used, entered, reached, etc.;

3. suitable for disabled people to reach, enter, or use, as a result of design modifications;

4. readily understandable;

5. obtainable

The scope and applicability of this definition prompts myriad logistic considerations for self-inquiry and reflection for both students and teachers.

At a time when I had lost control and function of my body, coupled with being challenged to stand and walk, due to a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis (1996), I thought my freedom of independent mobility was over. My neurologist recommended I try yoga to help me manage. Transformative in my recovery, rehabilitation and ongoing health maintenance, the skillful, adaptive use of props inherent in Iyengar Yoga helped me attain the physical, physiological and psychological benefits of the practice.

Within days of being released from the hospital, with a friend’s assistance, I literally stumbled into an Iyengar Yoga studio in LA. Having access to a fully equipped ground floor studio, a welcoming reception from a skilled yoga teacher, and an asana practice tailored to my ability, helped me regain access over my body and got me back on my feet.

If claims that ‘yoga is for everyone’ are to hold true, it is vital to have access to a venue where yoga is being offered; especially for those who may be mobility challenged, or for anyone who may feel unsure, unwelcome or excluded.

Reasons why some feel yoga maybe inaccessible to them include: geographic location; perception of what yoga is; physical disability; acute or chronic health conditions; discrimination based on race, heritage, age, body image and size; sensory loss (blind, deaf, aphasia/ speech deficits); language barriers, socio-economic conditions; trauma survivors; mental health challenges; developmental learning and social interaction disorders; and a vast array of other cultural discriminations such as gender identity; sexual preference; incarceration; any combination of the above, and more.

Thankfully, most general class offerings welcome and integrate culturally diverse populations free of bias. To address specific health conditions (musculoskeletal, systemic, neurological), sometimes specifically designed classes or individual session(s) are required.

Some examples of neurological conditions I’ve worked with that can benefit from an adapted practice include: Multiple Sclerosis, Parkinson’s, post-Stroke, MND/ALS, limb amputees, persons in wheelchairs, and a wide range of other mobility and health challenges such as cancer, post-surgery recovery, mental health challenges and more.

Here are a few things to ponder when it comes to accessibility. Whatever your situation may be, if you’re new to yoga, it’s helpful to identify your motivation for embarking on a practice and how to go about realizing your goal(s).

Location

Consider geographic logistics. Is the venue reachable, designed and equipped to be usable and functional for all, including those with disabilities?

Are there transportation options (public/private)? Is there parking... for car? bike? physical mobility device?

Are there stairs? handrails/grab bars? uneven surfaces to navigate? a lift? a ramp?

If reliant upon public transportation, many providers accommodate those requiring mobility assistance devices, with lifts, ramps, and level access platforms for ease of transfer to train or bus.

Alternatively, in many locations ride-share options exist; however, I’ve taught in remote areas where this is not the case.

In rural and remote areas, if unable to drive, most rely on the kindness of family, friends, caregivers and other community members for a ride.

Online and hybrid classes are amazing platforms for practicing and learning — provided one has the means, access to the internet, and yoga materials.

When facing physical challenges though, online delivery platforms can present another level of challenge for those who struggle to move independently or live in an environment that doesn’t support a yoga practice. When online, most people are alone. For those who may require physical assistance or prop support - unless someone is there to help - adjusting a prop here or there, or unmuting oneself, can be a source of monumental frustration.

Lately I am excited to be involved with a program developed by AnuYoga (a collective of Iyengar Yoga teachers) that brings Iyengar Yoga into hospitals as part of a multidisciplinary, therapeutic approach for patient recovery and rehabilitative care. Patients have access to yoga to integrate an adaptive rehabilitative practice while in hospital and under their doctors’ care.

Many colleagues also offer yoga to those incarcerated at local prisons.

Curriculum

Consider what is currently offered and how to best select or help guide students to a particular program that best addresses the individual needs and goals. I embrace input so students maintain agency over this decision.

Based on what is offered, determine a reasonable class level and if general yoga classes
are appropriate.

Is a qualified teacher available and able to adapt the practice to address and accommodate individual needs, either in a group class or private setting?

Would a group class enhance the experience? The power of being part of a community is not to be ignored. Are concession discounts or scholarships available for those facing financial hardship?

If language is a barrier, Iyengar Yoga is taught in many languages globally. In large metropolitan environments, often classes are available in various local languages endemic to the area. When teaching abroad, often there is a translator.

Communication and Collaboration

Is the teacher accessible? Is the student willing to share?

Being easy to approach, talk to, and freely communicate with, without fear of judgment, can quell anxiety, and ease feelings of being “less than” or unwelcome.

Whether addressing physical rehabilitation or cultural inequities, a wide range of challenges can be addressed through yoga by opening up communication.

If unfamiliar with a student’s situation, it’s helpful to educate myself about the student’s condition as best I can.

Venue Environment

Is the environment welcoming? Even when attending or offering classes in a temporary space like a public rental hall or auditorium.

Often when going into a new situation, many of us just want to fit in and not want to be fussed over... especially if we feel we are “different.”

Briefing studio staff members and assistants to be conscious of how they communicate with students when registering, upon arrival and while in class, can go a long way to ease uncertainty.

If everyone feels welcome and at ease, the experience of inclusion and being supported in and by community can be empowering and profound.

Aside from having access to basic yoga equipment, additional props can facilitate further depth of exploration. For instance, those who may be unable to use their legs can explore inversions (when appropriate) in a ceiling swing vs. doing independently or with wall ropes and other props synonymous with Iyengar Yoga.

Another thing to consider is toilet and dressing room access. This can help ease any awkward and potentially embarrassing situations.

A wealth of resources available to help with suggesting asana adaptations, which can be tailored to suit almost any condition.

A collaborative dynamic, rather than adopting an authoritarian
role, provides an opportunity for all involved to learn and collaborate together.

In my observation, this also broadens and sharpens the focus and lessens the tendency to categorize and rely upon uninformed or preconceived ideas about what it means for someone to live with “whatever condition” or situation.

Discovery

Once we are in a mutually engaged learning environment, the potency of discovery is exhilarating. The applied technique of any asana can help us gain further access to various body parts that may needed to be awakened, which may facilitate and be in line with our goals.

For example, digging the heels and raising the metatarsals up in bridge pose or in other back extensions, like dwipada viparita dandasana, can help access the back ribs and further lift the chest

Or, using wall ropes with arms extended overhead can help with posture.

For any collaboration to be successful, mutual respect amongst all involved is a must.

A Parkinson’s student recently shared that she once showed up at a yoga/fitness class. Based on the teacher’s unfamiliarity with the scope of Parkinson’s, the student was immediately shepherded into a class for the “physically disabled.” The room was populated with elderly gentlemen with significant restrictions. Without the opportunity to communicate her ability and goals, a hasty determination was made. The student left the class and never returned. Luckily, she didn't give up on yoga and continues to practice to this day.

Or, a blind student who may come to class. Taking time to describe room layout, listen and learn about how they navigate in their daily life can be insightful and extremely beneficial. Together an informed decision can be made of where to be situated in class.

Another practitioner I’d recently met, had undergone right leg amputation for health reasons. It is inspiring to see him empowered by a yoga practice that may otherwise seem unachievable; a practice made possible, though, through adaptation and communication with his teachers.

The concept of “parakaya prevesa,” (Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra, III.39), suggests that with a refined ongoing yoga practice, one obtains the potential ability to enter another’s body (siddhi). As teachers it’s unlikely we can access another’s body; however, with sensitivity one may begin to get a sense of what that person may be going through, whatever the situation may be.

When I initially embraced a yoga practice, I would not expect my teachers to know what it’s like to have MS, so I’d share the degree of some of MS symptoms I was experiencing.

Not to glorify the problem, but rather to inform and offer them insight. If given the opportunity to understand what it’s like to feel like there are bugs crawling underneath one’s skin, or burning neural pain in my right foot and hip, or the emotional isolation often associated with the condition, in turn my teachers could offer their insight and knowledge on how to help access relief.

If we can imagine what that must be like, it may provide teachers a gateway to adopt and apply a course of action based on their personal practice, knowledge and experience to offer the student further accessibility in the quest to obtain their goal.

Whether student or teacher, as we evolve as practitioners we have the opportunity to cultivate the mind — to go on learning and explore more with sensitivity, observation and sensibility. Moving from the periphery to the core, we can delve deeper into the study of breath, the mind and perhaps even gain access to catch a glimpse of the Self.

Garth McLean is a Level 3 Certified Iyengar Yoga Teacher, Certified Yoga Therapist
and Approved Professional Development Provider with the International Association of Yoga Therapists (C-IAYT), and a Registered Yoga Teacher (E-RYT 500) and Continuing Education Provider (YACEP) with Yoga Alliance. He teaches locally in Los Angeles where he lives, and travels extensively to teach worldwide as well as providing online classes. https://yogarth. com/about-me/

Article courtesy of Iyengar Yoga UK.

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Working on twists reminds me of the story of Mount Meru and the

churning of the ocean of elements to extract the elixir of life. In the

story, which can be found in B.K.S. Iyengar’s The Tree of Yoga,

angels and demons are directed by divine Vishnu to churn the

ocean filled with all the elements of Nature to bring about balance

and renewed peace in the universe. Adisesa, the king cobra, is

used as the “rope” attached to the mountain after it is thrown into

the cosmic ocean. The work of angels and demons together

produces the elixir of life.

For the upcoming highlight class, I reflected on my journey with

twisting asanas and compared it to this story of transformation.

The physical work of churning in Parivrtta Sthiti has taken me

through many obstacles to a deeper balance of mind and peace

of consciousness. 

Sometimes, this story is used to describe the movement of the

inhalation and exhalation in pranayama. For me, it also

represents the process of transformation we may go through in

asana. First, we embark on the practice of twists physically, then

deepen our understanding and experience of them consciously.

We actively encounter positive and negative elements of our

Nature while physically twisting and moving the ribcage and

spine, like the angels and demons that churned the ocean with

Mount Meru. In the story, the initial churning produces a

heaviness of Mount Meru and creates a poison of all the

elements. In twists, we at first tend to crumple or contract. This

restricts our breath and can make us feel heavy and stuck,

poisoning our consciousness.

Throughout their challenges, the angels and demons gain support

for their churning from the divine Vishnu. Vishnu lifts Mount Meru

from deep underneath the churning ocean. Likewise, we rely on

our inner Self to support and uplift us as we persist in the

struggles of our external practice. Within the experience of

heaviness or discomfort in our twists, we must renew a

connection to a supportive inhalation and exhalation to open and

continue the transformation. 

The continued churning of Mount Meru ultimately transforms the

ocean of poison into the elixir of life. As we continue churning and

opening, and opening and churning, through our practice of

twists, we can transform an agitated and contentious physical

twist into a deep well of peace. The internal divine consciousness,

the true elixir of yoga, eventually has no other choice but to reveal

itself.

Whether you find twisting dominated by your angels or demons, I

hope you are inspired by this mythological reminder that all the

cosmos lies within us. The real story is in how the push and pull of

the work of our external Nature enables the uncovering of our

Divine Truth within.

Jennie’s Spotlighting Level 3 class will be on Saturday, Sept. 28,

at 1 p.m. CST. Members Register here. Non-members register here

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Editor’s Note: Miri Rivlin is a Level 3 CIYT based in the Palo Alto, CA. I discovered her through the many videos she has posted to social media that show the dazzling creativity and inventiveness of her practice. It wasn’t surprising that Miri was fun to talk to, and I look forward to a longer public conversation on Instagram Live, Saturday, September 7th at 1pm EST.

- Dan Shuman

“Through cultivation of friendliness, compassion, joy and indifference to pleasure and pain,virtue and vice respectively, the consciousness becomes favorably disposed, serene and benevolent.”

Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra 1.33 as translated by B.K.S. Iyengar in “Light on the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali

The Sanskrit expression Nati Nati means "neither this, nor that". This concept can be found in ancient texts, and can be experienced through yoga practice.

We have preconceived ideas of ourselves, but an attentive yoga practice can help reveal the unknown, break ingrained patterns and perceptions, and promote true deep happiness. 

After more than 2 decades of yoga practice, I have cultivated a positive approach based upon joy and lightness that is fun to embrace. This gives me a glimpse of acting according to what is in front of me, and less based on my old, habitual patterns. 

When my spouse and I travel, I cannot practice in my comfort zone, nor for the length of time that I wish.

My most creative works are a result of Nati Nati.

Don't get me wrong - I'm the same person, making lots of human mistakes, but there is a sense of santosa (contentment). 

Do you hesitate to practice without a teacher? Without props or a set sequence? Give it a try, because instead of practicing yoga in class, it's something different.

Yoga becomes a lab to evaluate our own concepts, to be attentive and without expectations. The unknown reveals itself in an unpredictable way.

Miri's Instagram

How can we call ourselves scaredy cats when we practice dropbacks? And how does this physical act give us the courage to deal with daily life? In the process we understand how we respond to nature. It's not who we are, but how we navigate ever-changing circumstances that defines us.

Yoga has become an integral part of my life journey, and I enjoy sharing my love of the subject through teaching. It is too important to keep to ourselves. If more people practice it, our personal and universal conditions are likely to improve. The more we are able to let go, the more we are able to practice the qualities which are presented in sutra 1.33, and those qualities are my goal.

Miri and several Level 3 CIYTs have taught donation-based classes for IYNAUS. These classes are free for IYNAUS members. To access these classes and enjoy more member benefits, you can join IYNAUS by clicking the button below.

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In 2001, when I first began to get serious about practicing yoga, I bought B. K. S. Iyengar’s book Light on Yoga at the Iyengar yoga studio where I had been taking classes in Atlanta. In 1966, B. K. S. Iyengar was one of the modern world’s most important yoga gurus, and he had written a guide for aspiring yoga practitioners, complete with 602 illustrative photos, succinct instructions, and commentary on yoga philosophy. I wanted to dig in and study for myself what the great guru had written. As I dutifully opened the book to the front matter, I gasped in surprise at the heading, “Foreword by Yehudi Menuhin.” Wait, Yehudi Menuhin? The world-famous child prodigy and concert violinist? I still had some old LP recordings of his from the 1970s. What did Menuhin have to do with yoga, and why did he write the foreword to this book, considered by many to be the Bible of yoga? I eagerly read on.

It turns out that the great violinist had been practicing yoga and studying with Iyengar for fifteen years by the time he wrote that foreword. I would later find out that Menuhin, in addition to being one of the most famous musical geniuses of the twentieth century, was also one of the earliest and most influential practitioners of yoga in Europe. Menuhin had first discovered yoga in 1952, before it was widely practiced in Europe or the United States, and he was instrumental in bringing yoga and the work of B. K. S. Iyengar to the West. His brief two-page foreword, which includes a discussion of Menuhin’s own connection to yoga, gave me insight not only into the practice as taught by Iyengar but also into the practice of one of the world’s greatest musicians, something that spoke to me strongly as a musician myself.

And so, curious to learn more about Menuhin’s engagement with yoga, I decided to explore more fully the connection between the two seemingly disparate disciplines of music and yoga through the lens of Menuhin’s life and work. I began to investigate how and why Menuhin came to yoga and the deep teacher-student relationship he developed with Iyengar. I read Menuhin’s published writing, and I studied his unpublished letters and essays housed in archives at the Royal Academy of Music in London and at the Iyengar Institute in Pune, India. I began to understand how forward looking Menuhin was in the way he bridged Eastern and Western thought and by the way he put such thought into musical action. As both a great musician and a benevolent spirit, he became a kind of role model for me as I endeavored to take my own yoga practice into my life and work.

Who Is Yehudi Menuhin?

Born in 1916, Yehudi Menuhin’s name may only vaguely resonate today with people born after 1970. As one of the world’s most famous twentieth-century child prodigies, however, Menuhin was a household name in the United States and Europe in the 1920s and 1930s. Following his public debut in 1924 in San Francisco, the child prodigy established an international concert career at major halls in New York, Paris, and Berlin. His stellar concert career continued into his adolescent and early adult years as he performed around the world in the United States, Europe, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, and Latin America.

Unlike many other child prodigies, Menuhin’s musical career continued into his adult years and for his entire life right up to his death in 1999. His strong presence as a performing violinist and conductor, a festival organizer, and a teacher impacted the musical world. He continuously maintained an international concert career, playing for audiences at major concert halls, heads of state, and royalty. He even conducted once for the Pope. Numerous biographies and documentary films recount Menuhin’s life and work, and in 1996 he published the autobiography Unfinished Journey: Twenty Years Later to update his first edition. Most recently the multi-language companion book Passion Menuhin: The Album of a Life (2016) accompanies an astounding compilation of Menuhin’s landmark recordings and films from 1929 to 1998 in honor of his centennial.

Beyond his musical genius, Menuhin possessed an insatiably curious mind. He pondered, lectured, and wrote about a broad array of issues concerning politics, education, and the environment. As a great citizen of the world, he championed many humanitarian causes and zealously worked to promote peace and unity around the globe. He was a visionary and a humanist committed to reaching the public through his music, writing, and teaching, and he believed music had the power to transform people’s lives and provide spiritual healing to a broken world. Throughout his life he was awarded many honors to recognize his great contributions, including twenty honorary doctorates from such prestigious institutions as Oxford University, Cambridge University, and the University of St. Andrews. In his adopted country of the UK, Queen Elizabeth II made him an honorary Knight of the British Empire in 1965; he was knighted Sir Yehudi in 1985 and received the Order of Merit in 1987; and he was inducted into the House of Lords as Lord Menuhin of Stoke d’Abernon in 1993. Menuhin was a passionate promoter of music and education, and his legacy lives on today. The Gstaad Menuhin Festival & Academy remains an important standing international music festival. The Yehudi Menuhin School in England, which he founded in 1963, continues to provide a superbly holistic musical education for young people, while the Yehudi Menuhin International Competition for Young Violinists offers one of the most prestigious music prizes in the world.

I first heard about Menuhin in the 1970s when I was an undergraduate music student. I listened to his classical recordings, along with the other great violinists of his era like David Oistrakh, and I heard about his pioneering “world music” record West Meets East (1966) with sitarist Ravi Shankar. Although I continued to come across Menuhin in my work as a musician and academic, it was not until I encountered his name in Iyengar’s Light on Yoga that I began to investigate his life and work in detail. This book is a result of my research into the connection between Menuhin’s life as a brilliant musician and as a dedicated yoga practitioner. While Menuhin’s musical life and work from his early years as a child prodigy to his adult years as a performer, educator, and humanitarian have been written about, the link between his life, his music, and his yoga practice is wholly unexamined.

Before I started to practice it myself, I thought yoga was for light -weights—people who were not really serious about physical exercise or only did it for stretching. Although a musician and college professor bytraining, I have also been very athletic for most of my life. By my early thirties, I was an avid runner, swimmer, and cyclist. I cross-trained. I competed in road races and triathlons. I ran two marathons. But in my early forties, things started to change. I didn’t slow down much, but my body did begin to tighten even as my mental awareness deepened. As I approached middle age, I experienced a shift in my perspective about what is really important in life, which often takes root for people around this time, and as my body stiffened, I began to reconsider my earlier judgments about yoga. At age forty-three, I decided to give yoga a chance, and it didn’t take long to see that my earlier perspective on it was wrong (like many more things to come). I soon learned that yoga is a physically challenging discipline and is about much more than stretching. I learned that yoga is ultimately about quieting the mind into a state of awareness of the timeless moment. Yoga philosophy turned out to resonate with my own belief system, and I went on to study yoga as a spiritual practice. Today, after practicing yoga for over twenty years, I can say that it has profoundly changed my life physically, mentally, and spiritually.

Scope of the Book

I hope this book will appeal to a wide audience of readers who are drawn to music, yoga, and the intersection between the two topics. It provides music researchers and students with a fresh view of Menuhin’s life and work through the lens of his yoga practice, supported by archival evidence from Menuhin’s photos, letters, and lectures and by the violinist’s autobiographical and pedagogical books and articles. The Power of Practice also offers yoga practitioners an inside view of B. K. S. Iyengar, one of the most renowned yoga gurus of the past century, through his teacher-student relationship with Menuhin, again documented by my archival research. For spiritual seekers in general, I hope the book delivers a good read about the two prominent figures in the story, Menuhin and Iyengar, and a compelling story about how the practice and philosophy of yoga may apply to everyday life in general.

I wrote this book because I thought others might need a champion like Menuhin in their lives, especially in our politically polarized and spiritually fragmented world. For millions of yoga practitioners around the world, Menuhin’s example reaches beyond just an individual’s personal quest for well-being and taps into a greater societal movement of people pursuing new approaches to physical and spiritual health in their lives. In many yoga studios, teachers weave in statements like “find your own way to apply yoga to life” as they give instructions to “straighten your legs” or “observe your breath.” Finding helpful examples of what this kind of integration can mean for a Westerner is often difficult.2 Yehudi Menuhin, however, represents a notable example of someone who embodied many yogic principles in his life and work beginning in the early 1950s, when yoga was hardly known in the West. He sought out ways to integrate yoga not only into his personal approach to well-being but also into his influential work as a musician. In this book, I hold up Menuhin as a relevant case study to show how people can draw on such connections for their own paths of holistic well-being.

I have tried to write this book in accessible language and to avoid deep technical material about both yoga and music, although many yoga terms and concepts are sprinkled through the chapters in Sanskrit with English translations. Chapter 1 of the book, “Soul Connection: Menuhin’s Yoga Practice with B. K. S. Iyengar,” introduces the reader to the lifelong relationship and connection between Menuhin and Iyengar, from the impact of their initial meeting in 1952 until Menuhin’s death in 1999. Chapter 2, “Early Influences and Career: Menuhin’s Path to Embracing Yoga,”recounts Menuhin’s early years with an eye toward what factors may have drawn him to yoga in the first place. Chapters 3, 4, and 5 delve into how Menuhin integrated his musical and yogic disciplines in the dimensions of body, mind, and spirit, respectively, as I analyze and interpret Menuhin’s life and work through the lens of the three paths of yoga—karmayoga (Yoga of Action), jñanayoga (Yoga of Knowledge), and bhaktiyoga (Yoga of Devotion)—as thematic frames that align with Menuhin’s roles as a performing musician, an educator, and a spiritual believer. Chapter 3, “Yoga Path of Action: Menuhin’s Musical Performances,” looks at how Menuhin integrated yoga into his actions and accomplishments as a performer of classical music, organizer of music festivals, promoter of world music, and advocate for his guru. Chapter 4, “Yoga Path of Knowledge: Menuhin’s Teachings and Writings,” recounts how Menuhin applied the knowledge he gained through his yoga practice and study to forge a unique educational mission, including the Yehudi Menuhin School and two books on violin playing. Chapter 5, “Yoga Path of Devotion: Menuhin’s Philosophical and Spiritual Beliefs,” explores how Menuhin’s belief system integrated many yogic concepts of devotion, as reflected through his great humanitarian work and his own writings and lectures.

Finally, a word of explanation about the word “practice” in the title of this book. Anyone who excels on a musical instrument, in a competitive sport, or with any kind of challenging physical discipline knows practice is the key to mastery. But in my use of the term “practice” here I go beyond the meaning of the physical repetition needed for training the body. I use the word to describe how one applies mental disciplines and spiritual principles in their life and actions to embrace a holistic body/ mind/spirit meaning. As the power of practice in Menuhin’s two disciplines of music and yoga transformed his life and work, I hope his story will inspire readers to find spiritual intersections in their own lives and work that will empower them to make our world a better place.

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Kristin Wendland is Professor of Teaching in the Department of Music at Emory University. With her tango research partner Kacey Link, she has co-authored and published Tracing Tangueros: Argentine Tango Instrumental Music (2016), and articles for Chamber Music Magazine (2018), Naxos Musicology (2020), and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra (2021). She has been practicing Iyengar yoga for over twenty years, and her book The Power of Practice: How music and yoga transformed the life and work of Yehudi Menuhin (2024) examines the connections between music and yoga. 

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B.K.S. Iyengar: “To contemplate on God, to surrender one’s self to Him (the divine) is to bring everything face to face with God. Pranidhana is the surrender of everything: one’s ego, all good and virtuous actions, pains and pleasures, joys and sorrows, elations, and miseries to the Universal soul. Through surrender, the aspirant’s ego is effaced, and the grace of the Lord pours down upon him like torrential rain.”   

The first and perhaps most transformational step in my recovery from bulimia was admitting I had a problem that I could not resolve on my own. It took a long time to get to this step. For many years, I clung to the hope that if I only tried hard enough and got my life together, I could muscle my way toward wellness. Admitting my addiction to another and asking for help was risky. Therapy had not worked, leaving me feeling hopeless. In a few situations, I had been shamed by health professionals who did not understand the psychic wounds that underlie eating disorders. Stopping the compulsive eating on my own seemed my only way out, even though I failed and failed again at stopping.

When it arrived, surrender came as an unexpected gift from the Divine, an invitation from deep within my heart to follow a new path.

I was almost 26 and hadn’t been to a doctor for several years. That winter, I was not feeling well, but my father convinced me to go to the clinic where I was attending graduate school by saying, “It’s free!”  At check-in, one of the questions on the form was, “Do you have an eating disorder?”  I was about to check “No” automatically — why would I risk admitting to this anyone — when something inside made me pause. Maybe they ask this question for a reason. Maybe there are people here who can help? In this pause was an invitation to surrender to a new path opening before me. Where before I had seen only risk and humiliation, I now saw the possibility for tenderness, help, and love. 

When I checked that box, I did not know where it would lead, whether the person seeing it would be kind or shaming, what the next steps would be, or what I might be capable of doing in my life. In that moment of grace, I only knew I could open my heart for help.

Poses to cultivate Ishvara Pranidhana: 

Supta Baddha Konasana 

Adho Muhka Virasana (trunk on bolster) 

Niralamba Sarvangasana 

Viparita Karani 

Savasana

Satya (Truthfulness) 

B.K.S. Iyengar: “Truth is an absolute of staggering power.” 

The next step in my recovery required me to be truthful to the reality of my life. It required a ruthless honesty about what I was doing, an admission of my addiction to myself and a few trusted others. In my first session with SF — the therapist who was to help me heal and emerge from the chrysalis of bulimia — she asked me to list the foods I ate on a binge. In my shame, I had never made an open accounting of this list to myself, let alone to anyone else. But again, grace was present that day because when she asked, I began to speak my truth of the situation. And rather than humiliation, I was flooded with relief to speak my truth to another who did not shame or blame me.   

Voicing the truth to SF and myself helped bring the bulimia out of the shadows and into the purifying sunlight of awareness. The light helped to burn away my shame and guilt. She asked me to pause before binging, so I might become aware of what I was feeling. Was I eating because I was bored, afraid, or angry? Did I want to be with others or alone? Was I afraid of failure or rejection? Over time, I developed an awareness of strong feelings arising before my drive to binge and the deeper hungers for love, comfort, and courage that lay hidden underneath my hunger for food. 

After a few years, I took a big step and, for the first time, told a friend of my struggles with food. To my surprise, she did not spit at me or look at me in disgust but simply listened. Sharing my truth and her compassionate listening moved me closer to healing and inner integration. 

Coming out from behind the addiction, we can see within us the deep emptiness we are seeking to fill with food, drugs, alcohol, sex, work, and the deeper hungers underneath calling for our attention. Rumi has said that “all longings are holy.”  Naming and acknowledging our hungers in truthfulness, we can begin to see them as callings from the Divine, from our soul, from our deepest inner parts, to become known to us.

Poses to cultivate Satya: 

Vrksasana 

Uttitha Trikonasana 

Virabhadrasana II 

Uttitha Parsvakonasana

Svadhyaya (Self-Study/Sacred Study) 

B.K.S. Iyengar: “You will not reach Knowledge of the Divine Self without passing through self-knowledge.” 

In our journey towards well-being and recovery, we cannot know what we will need. As we learn to feed ourselves in more nourishing ways, there will be unexpected difficulties, setbacks, ruts, and backsliding, along with the joy, ease, and freedom that well-being and true nourishment bring. Indeed, figuring out what nourishes is a profoundly spiritual practice. 

Svadhyaya asks us to be open to whatever is happening to us, to bring self-awareness to the feelings and emotions rising inside — the physical discomforts, agitations, cravings, tension, stress, fatigue, or fear. In Svadhyaya, we are asked to seek self-knowledge and encouraged to explore with compassion and curiosity whatever unfolds before us from moment to moment. Only in the moment can we be aware of what we are longing for and wanting, what we need to do to nourish and care for ourselves, and what resources are before us that can help.   

I remember the first time I was able to choose not to eat compulsively when the craving arose. It was a Sunday afternoon in early spring. It was cold and rainy, and the familiar urge to binge rose inside me. I wanted to binge on cookies, watch TV draped under a soft frayed blanket, and sit in my favorite old chair. I wanted to turn off the day and numb the inner sadness. Instead, I found a sacred pause between the urge to binge and acting on that urge, and in that pause, I was able to do what had previously been impossible. In that pause, I sunk deep below the hunger for food and numbness to touch the rich and profound sadness underneath my cravings for food and escape. I touched this pain with loving compassion. I let the blueness inside rise to meet the blueness of the day. I sat at the kitchen table and let the sadness wash over me like the rain. As I gave it space, I was amazed it did not destroy me as I feared but began to soften and spread. I felt its richness and fullness, its tenderness and mystery, and the nascent possibility for joy within the grief. 

Then, I felt the presence of something soft, kind, and warm with me in that moment, something familiar and grandmotherly reaching out to me. I was not alone with this sadness. I was held even as I held this pain. And then I wanted to play with something colorful and soft. I wanted to make something beautiful with my hands.   

I found the clay I had lying around the house and warmed it with my hands. It softened with my touch. I took it in with all my senses: the colors, the smell, the smooth stickiness between my fingers. The blueness inside began to mellow and soften like the clay between my fingers. I sat for several hours rolling beads of clay, thinking of how I might string them together into a necklace. The clay, the beads, the textures, and the colors were exquisite and deeply comforting. I was an artist. I was making something precious from deep inside that was an expression of my deepest self. It was the transformation of suffering into spiritual healing. And I wasn’t alone. 

The urge to binge left me for that moment, on that cold blue Sunday, even as the blueness inside rose strongly again and again before falling away.

Poses to cultivate Svadhyaya: 

Marichyasana III 

Parvritta Trikonasana 

Ardha Halasana 

Parsva Halasana

Entering Darkness 

Ahimsa (Nonviolence/compassion) 

B.K.S. Iyengar: “The shame of violence, of harming others, is simply that; it is an offence against underlying unity and therefore a crime against truth.” 

Ahimsa asks us to consider our words and actions and whether they are bringing us into a deeper connection with ourselves and others (ahimsa) or disconnection (hmisa). When it pertains to healing from compulsive overeating, we can use ahimsa to become aware of and pay close attention to how we are treating ourselves. As we begin to feed and honor our needs for love, acceptance, and connection with our deepest selves, cravings to binge will start to fall away. 

Kindness and compassion towards ourselves come from paying close attention to ourselves (svadhyaya) and to the truth (satya) of how we feel in our body, mind, and emotions from moment to moment throughout each day. Through this receptive, ongoing, and open curiosity, we can come to know what we are hungry for to uncover the hunger behind the hunger, which will lead us into a profound caring for the deepest parts of ourselves, our wholeness, and the divinity and grace within.  

As I first noticed and then explored with openness, curiosity, softness, and kindness, the inner longings, ahimsa began to unlock a key to my well-being. Ahimsa meant allowing myself to experience the full and normal range of human emotions, let them loose, give them space, and listen to and respect these callings from the deepest parts of my being.

While recovering, I began to take ahimsa very seriously, realizing that each time I ignored these deeper longings, the urge to binge and purge was fueled, and this caused me harm. Ahimsa, the study and practice of self-care, became (and remains) an organizing principle of my well-being.   

In early recovery, I noticed how certain situations would trigger a binge, and when possible, I began to avoid them. Sometimes, this meant not spending time with friends or family members who I found upsetting or shaming, not participating in social events out of obligation when my body/mind craved rest and solitude, and breaking the isolation when that was needed. I learned to honor what my body/mind needed in the moment in my practice of ahimsa. Caring for myself in these deep ways made me aware of my humanness. In touching my humaneness, I became aware of and reverent of the humanness of others.

Poses for Ahimsa: 

Adho Mukha Virasana  

Adho Mukha Svanasana (head supported) 

Setu Bandha (supported with a cross-wise bolster) 

Viparita Karani

Aparigraha (Gratitude/Non-covetousness) 

B.K.S. Iyengar: “Energy needs to flow, or its source withers. By covetousness or miserly clinging on, we stop energy against a natural law, it is we who are impoverished and poisoned by our own hoarding of life’s riches.” 

As the grip of compulsive eating began to loosen, I noticed a disturbing fact about myself: I was often filled with jealousy and envy for what those around me had and that I felt missing in my own life. Rarely satisfied with myself, I wanted a different body, a higher grade, more success at work, and deeper friendships. I felt greedy for more attention from professors, my lover, and my friends. I wanted to be the most persuasive in class and could become obstinate and argumentative when that didn’t happen. Wanting these things made me feel ashamed and depleted.

It can be scary when food begins to lose its grip because emotions become more intense. No longer numbed by food, complicated feelings rise to our consciousness and demand attention. The practice of aparigraha helps us to become aware of what we cling to and hoard and understand why. This gives these hard feelings the fullness, space, and recognition they need to be understood and transmuted into something divine, the holy longings we are all seeded with.

After a long period of observation, I found that underneath the jealousy and envy was enormous grief, abandonment, and emptiness. It takes a lot of humility, courage, and suppleness to enter this pain. It is a practice that matures over a long time. But when we allow even a sliver of this psychic pain to express itself fully, touched with love, we can begin to experience wholeness, integration, and gratitude.

Poses for Aparigraha: 

Ujjayi breathing 

Viloma I 

Viloma II 

Savasana

Asteya (Non-Stealing/Generosity) 

B.K.S. Iyengar: “So at each stage of our lives, we do our best with yamas, the external moralities, but it is only through refining the self that we really improve the quality of this morality…when we’re young, stealing might mean actually stealing something from a shop. Whereas when we’re older, we might refrain even from saying a harsh word that might steal somebody’s reputation.” 

To be generous towards others, we first must learn to be generous with ourselves. When I was actively bulimic, I thought generosity meant pleasing others, even if it meant sacrificing my boundaries and needs. In recovery, I learned that projecting a false self drove a wedge between myself and those I longed to be closer to. I realized that generosity towards others came as I learned to take good care of myself, my deep need for healthy boundaries, and honesty about self-care. Genuine giving flowed from an open-heartedness, leading to deeper connections with others. 

My beloved grandmother had the habit of never sitting down to a family meal. After spending the evening preparing the family dinner (eggplant parmesan with fresh tomato sauce, baked chicken, green beans, and roasted potatoes), rather than sitting down to eat, she would spend the meal piling food onto platters, pulling hot pans out of the oven, going to the porch for more soda and wine, replacing lost napkins, forks, or knives. She wouldn’t serve herself a plate of food even as she heaped food on ours, encouraging us all to“Manga!” When she did feed herself, it was from the uneaten parts of the meal left on our plates, chicken bones with bits of meat hanging on, potatoes stuck to the roasting pan, and leftover ends of bread from the loaf. Giving to us in this sacrificial way took a toll on her health and well-being. Not eating properly led to obesity and diabetes, and the daily pressures to cook and clean and tend to a family, along with holding down a job cleaning for others, sometimes led to bitterness and anger. When neglecting her needs, her giving was unbalanced and occasionally hard to digest.

In recovery, I learned when I could give with generosity and open-heartedness and when I could not. The intensity of my craving to binge was the guidepost telling me whether I should proceed with the giving. If it was clear I could not “give” to another without binging, I learned to say no to giving that was not born out of love but of fear. With practice and trial and error, I learned that setting appropriate boundaries with others that honored my need for rest and care didn’t leave me abandoned as I had feared. On the contrary, in practicing a more honest and balanced way of giving, I cultivated richer and more authentic connections with friends and loved ones because the giving came from a mature, open love rather than a fearful grasping.

Poses for Asteya: 

Salabhasana 

Dhanurasana 

Ustrasana 

Viparita Dhandasana

Tapas (Sustained Devoted Practice) 

B.K.S. Iyengar: “Practice implies a certain methodology, involving effort. It has to be followed uninterruptedly for a long time, with firm resolve, application, attention and devotion, to create a stable foundation for training the mind, intelligence, ego and consciousness.”   

As recovery progresses, it asks for more commitment, attention, discipline, and love. The recovery process never reaches an endpoint but continues to draw us toward the next step in developing courage, faith, and self-abiding. Tapas (devotion) is required to address all the interconnected aspects of life that require reattachment and rebalancing to serve an ongoing recovery. Recovery, through tapas, becomes entrenched when it serves as the organizing principle to our life, the lens through which we weigh decisions, actions, and the multitude of choices and relationships that comprise a life. Recovery through tapas is the choice made over and over in each moment to choose awareness and aliveness over dullness and oblivion. 

After a year or so of recovery work, there came a point when I plateaued. I was tired of working so hard but making so little progress. The desire to binge had ebbed, but not entirely. I didn’t think it would be possible for me to go further and wanted to give up trying. For days or weeks, I would let myself give up the hard work of recovery. I would give myself a recovery “vacation,” but not for long. Because I had cultivated so much support around me and had caught the wave of recovery through inner transformation, I had the inner and outer scaffolding to get going again.   

This speaks to the importance of sangha to help us with our commitments on the spiritual path of recovery. We can draw on the strength of the community when our self-will flags. Once I committed myself to the hard work of recovery, I organized my life around this goal. I joined several support groups, met weekly with a therapist and a nutritionist, and began to plan time each day for the pleasure of a long walk in the woods, a favorite TV show, or coloring. One summer, I cut my vacation to Cape Cod short because I missed my sangha and was not ready to be apart from my supportive community for so long. The sangha was my training wheels to help me find my balance and renew my tapas, my motivation for the hard ongoing work of recovery.

Poses for Tapas: 

Virhabhadrasana I 

Virhabhadrasana III 

Adho Mukha Vrksasana 

Urdhva Dhanurasana

Opening to Light 

Brahmacharya (Moderation; Balance) 

B.K.S. Iyengar: “Balance in the body is the foundation for balance in life.” 

I took my first yoga class towards the end of my journey to recovery. Less occupied by food, I had more time to try things I thought might bring me pleasure, comfort, or company. While I had been active for most of my adult life, in that first yoga class, I couldn’t believe how much effort it took to stand up straight in Tadasana, spine erect, legs engaged, chest open.

In pose after pose,I found stiffness and tightness I had been unaware of and significant portions of my body I had not inhabited for many years, if ever. Despite the pain and exhaustion, this practice touched something deep inside me. I haven’t stopped practicing or attending classes since.

Seeking and establishing balance within the body gradually and over time led to a desire to find more balance in my emotions and reactions. This meant I could no longer sit for long periods without a break, that working to the point of depletion was no longer justified, nor was hunger to the point of being irritated or agitated. I began to long for a connection to the quiet still point within, a place I did not know existed before I started practicing yoga.

To find well-being, we can no longer work ourselves to exhaustion, sustain long periods of unyielding stress, or sit still in front of a computer or TV screen until our body becomes numb and lethargic. Like a seesaw coming to balance, brahmacharya takes ongoing adjustments that sometimes swing us further in the opposite direction than necessary. Because life is ever-changing, this exploration of balance, not the achievement of balance in and of itself, brings us into wholeness and awareness to touch the still point within.

Poses for Brahmacharya: 

Tadasana 

Urdhva Hastasana 

Urdhva Baddhangulyasana 

Anantasana 

Sauca (Purity) 

B.K.S. Iyengar: “If your lake is muddy and impure, if there are lots of toxins in your system clouding your vision, clarity of vision is impossible...When the mind is stable, the sediment held in suspension that clouds it sinks to the bottom, and the consciousness becomes limpid.”  

When self-judgment, fear, shame, or unawareness clouds our consciousness, we cannot see ourselves or others clearly. Provoked by self-judgment and fear, we lose the ability to act with freedom. Sauca helps us let things settle inside, pause, and find clarity before acting out of fear, anger, or shame.   

Along with asana, which purifies the blood, soothes and strengthens the nerves, and opens and aerates the lungs and the spine, a practice of selfless service has helped me to cultivate sauca, especially around the sullying and pernicious effects of negative self-judgment. In recovery, I am continually relearning this lesson of selfless service as a keen antidote to negative thinking and actions. Putting others before myself, when I am able and in ways that are not self-depleting, helps me to let go of self-judgments and feel useful and purposeful, with more compassion for myself and others. Selfless service brings me into a state of sauca where my view of the world is clearer, less muddied by negative and critical self-hatred, and I am in deeper connection with the divine nature in myself and others.

Poses for Sauca: 

Bharadvajasana I 

Bharadvajasana II 

Supta Padangusthasana I, II, III 

Urdhva Prasarita Padasana 

Paripurna Navasana

Santosa (Contentment) 

B.K.S. Iyengar: “When consciousness, strength, and energy coordinate, then the little upsets of the day can be taken in our stride, dealt with for what they are — real but limited — and then put down. Contentment, which is an acceptance of one’s mixed lot as a human being, returns. Resentment does not fester and poison even the less satisfactory sections of our day.” 

During a particularly stubborn part of my recovery, when I felt I might not be up to the task, I wondered whether recovery was worth the effort. Life wasn’t necessarily getting easier, even as the urge to binge and purge was fading. In fact, at times, the opposite felt true. Without the numbing effects of food, overwhelming feelings of anger, shame, fear, or grief could rise and flatten me. Recovery wasn’t making life perfect or easier. People were still disappointed, money ran out, jobs were lost and not found, and love was tepid. Some days in recovery, even when the sun was streaming through the windows, I didn’t have it in me to do more than watch TV. I experienced days of rage and sadness.   

As I continued with recovery into and through the ruts, setbacks, and difficulties and allowed myself to feel everything more fully, something shifted. I began to acquire a taste for the feelings and longings that rose when I no longer numbed them with food. The desire to care for myself in deeper and more profound ways, no matter the outside failures or disappointments, brought a newly acquired trust in myself and, beyond that, an encounter with that which helped sustain me beyond my self-will. Having an inner refuge to return to and trust became prize enough. I was (and am) learning I didn’t need the world to be a certain way to be happy. This newly acquired taste for inner awareness and connection brought santosa with myself and the life unfolding around me.

Santosa, not happiness or success, has been the fruit of my recovery. Through the practice of the yamas and niyamas, I have come to appreciate myself and my life as it unfolds around me. When I am anxious and fearful, I have a place to turn to find respite. Like a hinge to a hidden doorway, my yoga practice opens me into an ever-deepening relationship with my deepest self and the divine.

Poses for Santosa: 

Sirsasana 

Halasana 

Viparita Dandasana 

Uttanasana 

Hinge 

B.K.S. Iyengar: “The techniques of yoga give you the opportunity to capture energy from the outside as well as from the inside and to use that energy for your personal evolution.” 

My addiction served as a hinge into the sacredness that may have remained closed to me if I didn’t have an addiction. For this, my recovery, and yoga, I am grateful. 

“Every Desire is Holy” 

Addiction is a sign that our purpose in life is out of balance. At its root, addiction points to our deep inner longings for love, completeness, wholeness, and compassion. The compulsive action can be considered a calling from the deepest parts of ourselves, which long to be known, loved, seen, and heard but which we have abandoned out of fear, shame, woundedness, trauma, and confusion. These longings come from and through the body but are not of the body. They are of the soul longing to be known to us. 

Embracing the yamas and niyamas for recovery, we learn how to taste the essence of the infinite through the particular, find the balance and firmness to harness life’s flows of pleasure and pain, plumb the inner depths of our being, the soul, so that we might make good use of the precious gift of our lives on this earth.

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“The end of discipline is the beginning of freedom.”

- B.K.S. Iyengar

In an interview I read years ago with Sting and his wife Trudy Styler, they

said they took up the study of yoga because they traveled so much; they needed

an activity that did not require hauling around all kinds of equipment. The only

tool they needed was the will to practice.

But how do you learn to practice?

Fortunately, after many years of attending classes, workshops, intensives,

and retreats, my senior teacher ordered me, “Stop coming to class. I don’t want

to see you anymore. Learn to practice!”

I had so many questions. How? Where? What? How long?

The first step was the most difficult. I recalled wisdom gleaned during an

Iyengar Yoga intensive many years prior.

It was my first Iyengar Yoga workshop. I was a beginning student. At the

end of the workshop, one student asked our esteemed teacher how to learn to

practice, how to start, and how long to practice once you get started. The teacher

was eating some dried fruit and nuts and continued chewing.

After a few moments, he said, “If you go out and try to pick up a big rock

or a boulder, you will struggle to lift it and throw it any distance.” He paused

before continuing.

“If you go out and pick up a small stone and toss it, that small stone will go

a great distance – a much greater distance than the big boulder.”

The teaching: start small. Begin with a commitment to a few minutes.

Once a week if you can. Soon, you will want more.

Tossing my small stone, I began with 10 minutes two times per week

(three poses). Eventually, my desire to practice grew to 20 and then 40 minutes. I

was practicing three times each week, but I needed more structure.

First, I used a cassette tape from John Schumacher at Unity Woods Yoga

Center.

Next, I bought videotapes of Patricia Walden.

I followed one of the recordings once per week in the beginning. Within a

month or two, I was using the cassette or the tape or new tapes more than once

a week. I bought a tape of standing poses and practiced at least three times each

week.

The tapes provided a framework. They were the implements to structure

myself. It remained, however, like taking class. I had a framework. I had

structure. But I needed to practice. Alone. On my mat in the room. By myself.

With Guruji.

The asana courses in Appendix I of Light on Yoga provided an outline for

week by week. They are daunting. Although it was clear I should begin with one

labeled “1st and 2nd week,” I needed to build my confidence.

I started with the “asanas for emotional stability” sequence from Light on

Life. It impacted me in several ways. I felt confident in exploring the sequences

behind Light on Yoga. Doing the 15-asana sequence for emotional stability

yielded insights that supported my personal sequencing decisions.

Confession: At this point in my practice journey, I think through poses

and make many decisions in the days and hours leading up to my practice. I

always discover there is another pose I want to practice. Sometimes I remember,

sometimes not. Letting go of regret and self-criticism is part of my practice.

Today, my practice is a daily practice that I greet with my “small stone”

attitude. I begin. I do as much as possible for as long as possible in the allotted

time. I do not reach for anything beyond the first step to begin.

My small stone means that at least once a week, I am using Light on Yoga

as my guide, more like tossing a pebble into the ocean of knowledge. On other

days, I organize my practice using the different architectures Guruji teaches:

• Standing poses during the first week of the month.

• Forward Bends the second week of the month.

• Backbends during the third week of the month.

• Pranayama for the fourth week of the month.

When the month has extra days, I practice twists and miscellaneous

poses.

In my practice, I incorporate a version of six essential poses into every

practice: Sirsasana, Sarvangasana, Halasana, Setubandha, Viparita Dandasana,

and Viparita Karani. (And Savasana!) Doing just these poses for ten minutes

each makes an hour of practice!

During a particularly stressful and sad time, I felt my practice was lethargic

and unfocused. I was disappointed in myself. I kept practicing, but I was

despondent. I told this to a teacher I trusted enough to reveal what I considered a

failure.

She told me Guruji said, “Steady and regular practice in the worst of times

is more meritorious than any practice in the best of times.”

The habit of practice breeds strength and discipline, perseverance, and

the ability to be free of old patterns and silly mistakes. It gives feedback and a

deeply satisfying sense of self.

When others praise me for my self-discipline or dedication regarding

my almost daily practice, I think how much harder it is to miss a day of practice. If

I don’t practice, I miss it very much. The consequence of habit is reliability.

The wisdom, this idea of a small stone, continues to accumulate weight

and meaning for me. It is my boulder of strength. It is a solid and reliable rock.

Start small. One step at a time. Little by little. Toss one small stone and

move mountains.

“All glory comes from daring to begin.”

-Anonymous

Laura Shapiro Kramer is a writer and dedicated Iyengar Yoga student. Various editions of her book, Uncommon Voyage, are available in print, digital, and audio. Her travel articles have appeared in many publications and, along with other essays, can be read at laurashapirokramer.com.

About The Light

The Light is the magazine of the Iyengar Yoga community of the U.S. (IYNAUS). Community-driven content is published regularly on this Substack publication by the Marketing, Communications, and Media Committee. Submit article ideas or content to publications@iynaus.org.

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INTRODUCTION

Here’s a guide to deepening your experience of inverted asanas by applying science to practice. Inversions, when performed skillfully, redirect fluid flows and pressures in your body in ways that can improve your health and quiet your mind.

B.K.S. Iyengar famously said, “Yoga is a practical art,” meaning that when you practice, you reap practical benefits. You’ll get the most out of this guide if you do the quick practice demos suggested along the way.

We’ll focus narrowly on blood circulation and the heart because this lays the foundation for understanding how inversions also affect fluid flows in the lymphatic system, brain, lungs, and elsewhere. We’ll emphasize two of the most useful effects of inverted asanas (1) draining and filling, and (2) stimulating reflexes.

Draining and filling refers to draining fluids away from one part of the body and filling up another. For example, elevating the legs enhances circulation not only by helping blood drain out of leg veins, but also by increasing the pressure, and therefore the volume, of blood filling the heart.

Stimulating reflexes refers to activating fluid pressure sensors to trigger beneficial physiological responses. For example, increasing the volume of blood filling the heart triggers a set of reflexes that, over time, can reduce your body’s overall blood volume. Reducing the body’s blood volume can lower blood pressure.

Although inversions have well-documented, important physiological effects, there is not enough clinical evidence to justify making medical claims about them, and some inversions may be risky for some people. Only attempt poses that you know are safe for you, and only teach poses that you know are safe for your students.

If you have any doubts, or have a medical condition, or want to use yoga as therapy, please do it only with the approval and supervision of qualified medical professionals.

Practice Demo Round 1

Before we dig into the science, now would be a good time to do the first practice demo, if you are willing and able. It should only take a few minutes. It will help you intuitively understand the anatomy and physiology of inversions in ways that could never be expressed in words or pictures. We’ll revisit the same practice later.

To practice, simply get into the postures listed below one after another, doing the sequence first in forward order, then in reverse order. Stay in each position very briefly — just long enough to get a sense of how it feels, then move on to the next one and compare how it feels. (This is harder than it sounds, because the poses feel so good you’ll probably want to stay in them much longer.) If you can’t do all the poses, just do the ones you can. Set up your props in advance if possible (see photos).

Sequence (10 to 30 seconds per posture):

1. Tadasana

(standing upright)

2. Supported Savasana

(lying with legs and pelvis on the floor, back elevated on long folded blankets, head supported higher than the back.)

3. Savasana

(lying flat with legs, pelvis, trunk, and head all on the floor at the same level, or as close to level as you can comfortably manage)

4. Supported Urdhva Padasana

(lying flat with legs up a wall, and with pelvis, trunk, and head all on the floor at the same level)

5. Viparita Karani

(lying with pelvis elevated on stacked, folded blankets, legs up a wall, chest lifted, tops of shoulders and head on the floor)

5.5 Add a head support to Viparita Karani

6. Salamba Sarvangasana

(Shoulderstand with the back of the head on the floor, shoulders elevated on the edge of a stack of folded blankets or a comparable prop, and the shoulders, trunk, pelvis, and legs in a vertical line, or as close to vertical as you can comfortably manage)

7. Salamba Sirsasana I

(Headstand I, top of head and forearms on the floor, the rest of the body in a vertical line, or as vertical as you can comfortably manage)

8. Repeat the same sequence in reverse order

BASICS OF CIRCULATION

The heart pumps blood out through arteries, and blood returns to the heart through veins. This is circulation. The heart functions as if it were two pumps; one circulates blood through the lungs, the other circulates it through the rest of the body. Here, we’ll only talk about circulation through the rest of the body.

The heart pumps out blood to the body at high pressure. The blood exits the top of the heart through a single, giant artery called the aorta. The aorta branches into large arteries, which in turn branch into smaller and smaller arteries, which finally branch into fine capillaries that reach every cell.

The capillaries deliver oxygen, nutrients, water and other important molecules to the cells. The cells excrete carbon dioxide and other waste products into the fluid that surrounds them (the interstitial fluid).

The blood from the capillaries begins its journey back to the heart in tiny veins called venules. The venules collect water and small molecules from the interstitial fluid. On the path back to the heart, the venules converge into small veins, which converge into larger and larger veins, until all venous blood ends up in one of two giant veins, the superior vena cava or the inferior vena cava (see illustration 1). These two veins deliver blood to the same receiving chamber of the heart, the right atrium.

The lymphatic system runs roughly parallel to the venous system and also carries fluid back to the heart. It collects interstitial fluid containing waste (large molecules, bacteria, cellular debris, etc.) in lymphatic vessels. Once the fluid is inside the vessels it is called lymph. Lymphatic vessels, like veins, converge into larger vessels as they progress toward the heart. Along the way, lymph passes through nodes that filter and process it. All the processed lymph ultimately drains into the superior vena cava, where it becomes part of the venous blood that returns to the heart.

Unlike arterial (outbound) blood, the inbound venous blood and lymph operate at low pressure. They do not have a pump pushing them along. Several mechanisms move these fluids. One is the contraction of skeletal muscles that squeeze the veins and lymphatic vessels. Many of these vessels, especially in the legs and arms, have one-way valves, so squeezing them reliably propels venous blood and lymph toward the heart. Another mechanism is breathing. For example, the same vacuum- like negative pressure in the chest that draws air into the lungs during inhalation also helps draw venous blood and lymph toward the heart. A third factor, gravity, can be the most powerful driver of venous and lymphatic return to the heart under some conditions; however, under other conditions, it can be a strong impediment. We’ll focus next on ways we can strategically use gravity in yoga to aid desirable draining and filling of arterial blood, venous blood, interstitial fluid, and lymph.

DRAINING AND FILLING

Fluids flow downhill, so the first rule of draining and filling is to elevate the part of the body you want to drain above the part you want to fill. A crucial point to keep in mind is that the greater the height difference between the source of the fluid and its destination, the stronger the gravitational draining will be and the greater the pressure the fluid will exert below. The source of the fluid does not have to be directly above the destination, it just has to be higher. We’ll sometimes refer to the height difference as the “vertical drop” even when the fluid travels diagonally down or stairsteps down.

The second rule of draining and filling says that because all circulating blood comes from the heart and returns to the heart, the vertical drop that matters most in an asana is not the height difference between the feet and the head (although this still does matter), it is the height difference between the heart and whatever part of the body you want to drain or fill. For example, in any pose with the legs elevated, the strength with which gravity drains blood away from the feet depends much more

on how far the feet are above the heart than on how far the feet are above the head. Likewise, in poses with the head below the heart, the degree to which gravity increases blood pressure in the head depends mainly on how far the head is below the heart, with a much smaller influence of how far the head is below the feet.

The main reason for this lies in the venous system, because it contains three to five times more blood volume than the arterial system1. All venous blood returning from body regions below the heart (that is, the legs, pelvis, abdomen, and lower thorax) flows into the inferior vena cava, then into the heart. All venous blood returning from body regions above the heart (that is, the head, neck, upper chest, and arms) flows into the superior vena cava, then into the heart. There are no veins that go around the heart to connect blood in the lower body to blood in the upper body. Therefore, during an inversion venous blood from the lower body cannot drain into or put filling pressure on veins in the upper body, and during an upright posture, veins in the upper body cannot drain into, or put filling pressure on, veins in the lower body.

The situation in the arterial system is more complicated, so we won’t try to untangle it here, but the upshot is that standing upright increases arterial pressure in the legs far more than turning upside down increases arterial pressure in the head. We’ll see how this plays out when we discuss Tadasana and Salamba Sirsasana.

To make sense of how specific asanas affect draining and filling, it’s useful to know the general layout of some major arteries and veins (see illustrations 1 and 2). The aorta is attached to the top of the heart. It first travels up toward the head a short distance (this is the ascending aorta), then arches over (this is the aortic arch) and finally runs down the trunk to the abdomen (this is the descending aorta).

The first arteries that branch off the aorta come out of the top of the arch, then divide further to deliver blood to the head, neck, upper chest, and arms. Additional arteries branch off of the descending aorta at various levels to supply blood to the trunk. The lower (abdominal) end of the aorta splits into arteries that bring blood to the pelvis and legs.

When we are standing upright, as the heart pumps out blood, gravity opposes its upward flow, and this reduces its pressure. The higher the blood rises, the lower its pressure becomes; therefore, blood pressure systematically falls as blood rises through the ascending aorta, the top of the aortic arch, and the arteries of

the upper chest, neck, and head. Meanwhile, gravity accelerates and therefore increases the pressure of the downward flow of blood out of the aortic arch, down the descending aorta, and through all the arterial branches that serve the trunk, pelvis, legs, and feet. When we turn completely upside down, gravity exerts the opposite gravitational effects on the blood in the arteries, including the aorta itself.

It’s very important to understand how inversions affect blood flow and blood pressure in the head, so we’ll take a closer look at its pathways. Arterial blood travels through the neck to reach the head via two carotid arteries and two vertebral arteries. (The illustration shows just one carotid artery and omits the vertebral arteries). Each carotid artery splits into two branches within the neck. The internal carotid artery brings blood to the brain and other structures inside the skull. The external carotid artery brings blood to the face and other structures outside the skull. Venous blood exits the head mainly via two jugular veins. Each jugular vein has an internal and an external branch. (The illustration shows the two branches of one jugular vein.)

When you are upside down with the heart higher than the head, gravity helps push arterial blood downward into the head but it also hinders the flow of venous blood out of the head. The net result is that gravity does not increase blood flow through the head during inversions. It does, however, increase blood pressure in the head, in both the arteries and the veins. Blood vessels in the brain may be somewhat protected from increased pressure because the skull acts like a closed, fluid-filled box that makes it hard for arteries and veins to expand too much. Blood vessels in the face, nose, eyes, and other areas outside the skull are less protected from elevated pressure, but do have some defense mechanisms.

BLOOD PRESSURE REFLEXES

Gravity-induced changes in blood pressure trigger a number of important and interesting reflex responses. We’ll look at three types of reflexes that inversions or other asanas can clearly trigger: the first are called high- pressure baroreflexes, the second are volume reflexes (also known as low-pressure baroreflexes), and the third are local arterial pressure reflexes. Each type of reflex is triggered by strategically-located stretch-sensors that send stronger signals when stretched by higher blood pressure and weaker signals when released due to lower blood pressure.

High Pressure Baroreflexes

The stretch sensors for high-pressure baroreflexes are called high-pressure baroreceptors, or just baroreceptors. The best known of these are nerves embedded in the arch of the aorta and in the carotid artery (see illustration). When these sensors are stretched by a rise in blood pressure, they elicit a set of responses that generally tend to lower blood pressure and otherwise calm the body and mind. When a fall in blood pressure reduces the amount of stretch on these sensors, they elicit a set of responses that generally tend to raise blood pressure and activate the body and mind. One consequence of this physiology is that when you go into poses that invert the heart, it often triggers a relaxation response. Another is that when you do standing poses, it activates you.

High-pressure baroreceptors don’t respond much, if at all, to small changes in blood pressure, but do respond to moderate-to-large changes (in a graded fashion). Many of these responses are fast-acting; for example, a rise in pressure at the baroreceptors almost immediately causes the heart to beat much more slowly, the heart muscle fibers to contract more gently, the smooth muscles that constrict most arteries and some veins to relax, and the body to breathe more slowly. Other responses are slower-acting; for example, the rise in pressure on the baroreceptors may gradually reduce the levels of several hormones that make the body retain salt and water, thereby tending to eventually reduce blood volume. Conversely, a substantial fall in pressure at high-pressure baroreceptors does the opposite: it greatly speeds up the heartbeat, makes the heart squeeze harder, constricts blood vessels, and so forth.

Perhaps the most interesting high-pressure baroreflex response, from a yoga perspective, is that stimulating the carotid or aortic baroreceptors can trigger a series of nerve signals that significantly slow down your brain waves. Although this has not been studied directly in yoga asanas, it is almost certainly one of the ways that supported inversions like Viparita Karani quiet your mind. If you want to take advantage of this calming reflex in yoga, it’s important to understand that it is easiest to trigger if your body and brain are already partly relaxed. This means that finding ease and stillness in inversions can often be the key to unlocking their potency. Finally, it’s useful to know that the calming baroreflex has an alerting counterpart: lowering blood pressure within the carotid artery and aortic arch can activate your brain; this may be one reason why standing poses generally wake you up.

Volume Reflexes (Low-Pressure Baroreflexes)

The stretch sensors for volume reflexes are called volume receptors, or sometimes low-pressure baroreceptors. Like their high-pressure cousins, they act to reduce load on the circulatory system when it’s high, and vice versa. The best known volume receptors are embedded in the right atrium, at the junctions where the superior and inferior venae cavae come in to deliver blood to the heart. When heart filling pressure increases, it stretches these sensors, and they in essence tell the body and brain that there is an increased volume of venous blood filling up the heart. This elicits a set of reflex responses that tend to reduce the volume load on the heart. A fall in filling pressure elicits opposite responses. One volume-unloading reflex response to the stretching of the heart’s volume receptors is immediate dilation of veins in the arms and elsewhere so they can, in effect, temporarily store excess blood. Another is increased urine production by the kidneys so the body excretes more liquid. Stretching these receptors can also induce several of the same volume-reducing hormonal responses that the high pressure baroreflexes do. In addition, stimulating the volume receptors signals the heart to secrete its own powerful, home-grown, volume- lowering chemical. There are no reports of volume reflexes affecting breathing or brain waves the way that high-pressure baroreceptors do, but this can’t be ruled out because it has not been studied.

Local Arterial Pressure Reflexes

The stretch sensors for local arterial pressure reflexes are located in the walls of certain arteries, for example in tiny arteries in the nasal passages. These reflexes can automatically constrict the arteries when they are filled up at high pressure. The constriction can expel excess blood and limit refilling. This may defend the arteries against damage if blood pressure gets too high during inversion.

With these reflexes, anatomical pathways and principles in mind, we’ll now explore how draining and filling work in the asanas of our demo sequence.

PRACTICE DEMO ROUND 2: EXPERIMENT AND FEEL

The focus of this round is to notice the specific sensations described in the observation instructions below, and to feel how they change when you transition quickly from one pose to the next (holding, again, for 10–30 seconds). It would be ideal to avoid interruptions by setting up the props for all the poses in advance, but if this is not practical, set up the props for two or three poses in a row, practice, then set up two or three more. Go back and forth between poses to better compare differences if you like.

There’s no need to try to figure out what is happening physiologically during this practice, just notice how things feel. We’ll analyze later.

Keep the instructions handy; refer to them frequently as you go along.

Observation Instructions for Practice Demo Round 2

1. Tadasana

Notice whether you experience these sensations:

• elevated blood pressure in your feet and ankles;

• no particular blood pressure sensation in your

  heart, upper chest, neck, head, face, nasal

  passages/sinuses, or eyes;

• an alert mental state.

2. Supported Savasana

First, notice whether your nasal passages are clear, making it easier to breathe through your nose, and whether you feel reduced pressure in your sinuses.

Next, notice whether the sensation of pressure or fullness in your heart and upper chest are higher than they were in Tadasana.

Finally, notice what pressure, if any, you feel in your feet compared to Tadasana.

3. Savasana

Notice whether you feel an even distribution of pressure or fullness from your feet to your head, or perhaps a very slightly uneven distribution directing a bit more pressure and fullness toward your chest and head.

Notice whether your nostrils are less clear than in supported Savasana.

4. Supported Urdhva Padasana

Notice whether you feel:

• a sense of blood draining from the feet — a distinct

  drop in pressure — compared to Savasana;

• moderately elevated pressure in the rest of your

  body, distributed evenly from pelvis to head.

5. Viparita Karani

As you move directly from Urdhva Padasana to Viparita Karani, notice whether you feel:

• increased pressure or fullness in the area of your heart, which then spreads to your upper chest, neck, face/head, and arms;

• a distinct further drop in pressure in your feet.

Now try this first experiment while still in Viparita Karani

• disturb the alignment of the pose by dropping your chest and laying your upper back on the floor (untucking your shoulder blades), then notice whether you feel a fall in pressure in your upper chest and neck;

• return to the proper Viparita Karani alignment of lifting and opening your chest, lifting the lower tips of the shoulder blades high off the floor and pressing them into your back, and maximally rolling the tops of your shoulders far underneath you; notice whether you feel a restoration of pressure in your upper chest and neck.

5.5 Now try this second experiment while still in Viparita Karani

• elevate your head by placing a rather thick folded blanket under it, and notice whether this reduces pressure in your head and face, and/or reduces nasal congestion;

• remove the head support so your head is back on the floor, and notice whether this restores pressure to your head, face, and nasal passages.

Notice whether Viparita Karani feels especially relaxing.

6. Salamba Sarvangasana

As you move from Viparita Karani to Salamba Sarvangasana, notice whether you feel:

• a very strong increase in blood pressure focused especially in your upper chest;

• a strong increase in blood pressure in your neck, head, and face;

• a large further drop in blood pressure in the feet, legs, and pelvis compared to Viparita Karani; a more active brain, compared to Viparita Karani.

7. Salamba Sirsasana I

When you change from Salamba Sarvangasana to Salamba Sirsasana I, notice whether you feel:

• a distinct shift of blood pressure to the head itself, especially strong in regions nearest the floor (for example, the top of head, forehead, eyes);

• possibly less pressure in the neck and upper chest compared to Salamba Sarvangasana, but still high pressure there;

• either strong clogging or strong clearing of the nose and sinuses;

• similar or lower in pressure in the feet, legs, and pelvis compared to Salamba Sarvangasana; a more active brain, compared to Salamba Sarvangasana.

8. Repeat the same sequence in reverse order

9. After the final Tadasana, lie flat in Savasana again until you feel ready to move.

WHAT IS (PROBABLY) HAPPENING IN THE POSTURES

Here are proposed explanations of some of the things that may happen in each posture. They are grounded in science, but only a few of them are based on direct experimental measurements in yoga asanas. There are no fixed practice instructions for this section, but it’s extremely useful to revisit some of the poses as you read along.

1. Tadasana

Why there may be a feeling of pressure in the feet and ankles in Tadasana.

The vertical distance from the heart to the feet is maximal in Tadasana, so gravity creates a very strong increase in arterial pressure as blood travels down the descending aorta through the leg arteries to the feet. For example, one study found that in people who are standing up, arterial blood pressure measured at the ankle averaged 222/142 mm Hg, while arterial blood pressure measured at the arm averaged 129/79 mm Hg.5 Over time, this high pressure in the lower legs and feet can push excess fluid out of the capillaries into the interstitial space, causing swelling.

Meanwhile, the great vertical distance between the heart and the feet in Tadasana also increases downward pressure in the venous system. This makes it harder
for the veins and lymph vessels to collect fluid from the interstitial space and send it upward toward the heart. In addition, the downward pressure causes the veins to expand, so a large volume of blood pools in the venous system of the legs and feet. You may see veins in your feet become distended in this pose.

All the factors above may contribute to a feeling of pressure in the feet in Tadasana.

Why there may not be any marked feeling of low pressure or fullness in the heart, upper chest, neck, head, face, nasal passages/sinuses, or eyes inTadasana.

The circulatory system has several mechanisms for moving blood upward against gravity while standing. Let’s look separately at moving venous blood up from the feet to the heart and pushing arterial blood up from the heart to the head.

When we stand upright, pooling of venous blood
and interstitial fluid in the abdomen, pelvis and legs effectively removes about 10–20% of our total blood volume from circulation.6 This reduces the amount of venous blood available to fill the heart from below via
the inferior vena cava. However, in Tadasana, strong action of the leg muscles squeezing the leg veins, plus constriction of smooth muscle in the walls of some leg veins, aided by one-way valves, helps push a sufficient amount of venous blood up through the legs to increase blood volume in the abdomen. There, strong breathing takes over to help draw a sufficient amount of venous blood upward through the inferior vena cava into the heart to achieve partial filling. Meanwhile, since the head, neck, and upper chest are above the heart in Tadasana, gravity assists the return of venous blood from these regions to the heart via the superior vena cava. This partially offsets the reduced venous-filling pressure from below, so although heart-filling pressure and volumeare likely to be somewhat low in Tadasana compared to other poses, it is high enough for us to function normally. This may be partly why there is no marked feeling of low pressure in the heart in this pose. (The pressure is, in fact, somewhat low, but our body can deal with it, so it feels normal.)

In Tadasana, the head is as far above the heart as it can be, so the heart has to work extra hard to pump arterial blood upward with sufficient pressure to supply the head, especially the brain. When we move from lying down to standing, there is an immediate, large fall in blood pressure in the aortic arch and carotid artery, and this quickly triggers strong high-pressure baroreflexes. These increase the pressure of blood being pumped upward out of the heart to the upper chest, neck, head, face, nasal passages, sinuses, and eyes, partially or completely offsetting the tendency of gravity to lower pressure in these locations. This is the main reason that there is no marked feeling of low pressure in regions above the heart in Tadasana.

Why you may feel an alert mental state in Tadasana The same baroreceptors that activate your

cardiovascular system also activate your brain.

2. Supported Savasana

Why the nasal passages and sinuses often clear, making it easier to breathe through the nose in supported Savasana. The nasal passages and sinuses clear out when
more fluid drains out of them than comes into them. Supported Savasana elevates the head above the heart, causing gravity to both increase fluid drainage out of the nasal region and reduce fluid flow into it. Specifically, elevating the head helps venous blood flow downhill out of the nasal region toward the heart, while it also makes it harder for arterial blood to be pushed uphill out of the heart into the nasal region. This usually clears the nose and sinuses. A similar process probably tends to reduce fluid pressures in all parts of the face and head during supported Savasana.

However, there is a paradox. Tadasana elevates the
head much farther above the heart than supported Savasana does, yet it does not reliably drain the sinuses or clear the nasal passages, and sometimes it may even clog them. One reason for this may be that, whereas Tadasana triggers a very strong high-pressure baroreflex that helps maintain or increase blood flow to the nasal region, supported Savasana may not be steeply enough upright to trigger a high-pressure baroreflex at all, so there is not an increase in arterial pressure to offset the gravitational drainage the pose provides.

Why sensations of pressure in your heart and upper chest may be higher in supported Savasana than they were in Tadasana, and why you may feel no pressure, or only slight pressure, in your feet in supported Savasana compared to Tadasana.

The short answer is that, whereas the large vertical drop from the head to the feet in Tadasana causes strong gravitational drainage of blood from the upper body and strong gravitational filling of the feet, the small vertical drop in supported Savasana produces much less gravitational drainage of the upper body and puts very little filling pressure on the legs and feet.

Here is a more detailed explanation. It has four parts. (1) In supported Savasana, although the torso and head are higher than the legs, the vertical drop is much smaller than in Tadasana. The smaller vertical drop causes less gravitationally-driven draining of the head and trunk and less filling of the legs and feet. (2) In supported Savasana, the legs are horizontal and the pelvis rests at the same level, so fluid pressure is distributed fairly evenly from the feet to the hips. (There is no concentrated pressure in or near the feet as there is in Tadasana). (3) The relatively small vertical step up from the level of the legs and pelvis to the level of the heart makes it much easier in supported Savasana than in Tadasana for respiratory action to draw venous blood up from the pelvis and abdomen to the heart. This tends to make cardiac-filling pressure and volume higher in supported Savasana than in Tadasana. (4) The elevation of the head and neck in supported Savasana increases drainage of venous blood and other fluids into large veins in the upper chest, applying pressure that helps to push these fluids into the superior vena cava and then into the heart. In this way, the lifted head position causes increased filling of the veins above the heart and the heart itself.

The four factors above, in various combinations, probably account for the slightly greater sensation of pressure and fullness in the heart and upper chest and lesser sensation of pressure and fullness in the feet in supported Savasana compared to Tadasana.

Bear in mind, though, that supported Savasana is still a head-up, feet-down posture because the head is above the heart while the pelvis, legs and feet are below the heart. The pose still favors an overall gravity-driven shift of fluids away from the head and toward the feet, even though the effect is very mild.

3. Savasana

Why you may feel an even distribution of pressure and fullness from your feet to your head, or perhaps a very slightly uneven distribution directing a bit more pressure and fullness toward your chest and head in Savasana compared to supported Savasana.

In flat Savasana, the legs, pelvis, trunk (including the heart), and head are all at the same level (or as close to level as is practical), and the heart itself lies horizontal, so there is no gravitational bias pushing or pulling body fluids toward or away from the head or feet. This is why fluid distribution may feel even from head to toe. However, our circulatory system is structurally biased to systematically push fluids away from the feet and toward the head, even when we are lying down. This is why, when you lie flat in Savasana, you may feel a slightly higher pressure and fullness in your chest and head.

Why your nostrils may be less clear in Savasana than in supported Savasana.

When we lie flat, the natural, structural push of fluids toward the head is unopposed by gravity, so it may gently push excess fluid into the nostrils, leaving less space for air to pass through. This does not occur in supported Savasana because the overall slant of the pose, especially the elevation of the head, may produce enough gravitational push of fluids away from the head to overcome the natural push toward the head.

4. Supported Urdhva Padasana

Why you may feel draining of fluids and a distinct drop in pressure in your feet in Urdhva Padasana, compared to Savasana.

In Urdhva Padasana the vertical drop from the feet to the heart is relatively large (the full length of the legs), causing fairly strong gravity-driven drainage of fluids from the feet and legs into the pelvis. You may see veins in your feet recede in this pose.

Why you may feel moderately elevated pressure and fullness in the rest of your body, distributed evenly from pelvis to head, in supported Urdhva Padasana.

The fluids draining from the feet and legs first fill the veins and lymphatic vessels in the pelvis, then over several heartbeats end up spreading relatively evenly through the pelvis, torso, and head because these body parts are all on the same level, with no gravitational bias pushing fluids toward one part or another.

Moments after you elevate your legs in Urdhva Padasana, the gravitational push of fluids draining out of them puts excess filling pressure on the heart. This usually stimulates the volume reflex that immediately dilates veins in your arms and elsewhere to accommodate part of the excess blood volume coming out of the legs. You might notice veins in your forearms or hands becoming more prominent in this pose.

Filling of the heart remains higher than normal as long as the legs remain elevated, and this causes the volume receptors to trigger the slower-acting body responses that may eventually reduce overall blood volume. It may take 10–20 minutes in the pose to develop some of these responses, and it may take repeated practice to produce a significant reduction in blood volume. Reduced blood volume can lower blood pressure, so theoretically, consistent, extended daily practice of Urdhva Padasana or other inversions that increase cardiac filling might help reduce blood pressure. However, this has not been proven clinically.

5. Viparita Karani

Why you may feel increased pressure in the area of your heart, which then spreads to your upper chest, neck and face/head, when you transition from Urdhva Padasana to Viparita Karani.

When you transition directly from Urdhva Padasana to Viparita Karani without bringing the legs down you elevate your pelvis and abdomen well above your heart. This causes an immediate increase in the volume of venous blood draining from the pelvis and abdomen through the inferior vena cava and pushing into the heart. That is why you may feel an immediate increase in the sensation of pressure and fullness in the heart. Over the next few heartbeats, the higher volume of blood going into the heart comes out on the arterial side, filling the upper chest, neck, face, and the rest of the head with a higher volume of blood than they had before.
That is one of the reasons you may feel the sensation of pressure spread to these areas. The pelvis and abdomen end up with lower blood volume, and regions from the heart to the head end up with higher blood volume for as long as you stay in the pose.

Why lifting your chest in Viparita Karani increases pressure in your upper chest and neck.

Lifting your chest and rolling your shoulders under increases arterial and venous pressure in the neck and upper chest by raising the heart a little higher and tilting it nearly upside down. These actions combine to increase the vertical drop from the heart to the aortic arch, carotid artery, superior vena cava, jugular vein, and other blood vessels. The greater vertical drop increases the filling pressure of all these vessels, which probably amplifies feelings of pressure in the upper chest, neck, and head in Viparita Karani.

Why you may feel a distinct further drop in pressure in your feet when you transition from Urdhva Padasana to Viparita Karani.

When you lift your pelvis up from Urdhva Padasana to Viparita Karani you also raise your legs and feet higher above your heart. The increased vertical distance causes lower pressure of blood flowing upward in the arteries that supply the feet and stronger draining of venous blood and lymph traveling downward out of the feet.

Why elevating your head in Viparita Karani may reduce feelings of pressure in your head and face, and/or reduce nasal congestion, and why bringing your head back down to the floor may restore pressure and/or congestion.

Viparita Karani can increase blood pressure in the face and promote nasal congestion because it places the head below the heart. In this position, gravity increases the pressure of arterial blood flowing downhill from the heart to the head and also increases back-pressure (pressure against the direction of flow) on venous blood flowing uphill from the head to the heart. Elevating the head close to or above heart level reduces the pressure of arterial blood pushing into it and increases ease of drainage of venous blood out of it. Both of these factors may reduce feelings of pressure and fullness in your head and face, and/or reduce nasal congestion. Lowering the head back down below heart level restores the vertical drop that may have caused the feelings of pressure and congestion in the first place.

Why Viparita Karani may feel especially relaxing.

We have seen that the elevation and upside down tilt of the heart in Viparita Karani raise blood pressure in the aortic arch and carotid artery. This increases pressure on the baroreceptors located there. This may trigger the high-pressure baroreflex response that slows your brain waves, making you feel more relaxed. This response works best when you are already partly relaxed, comfortable, and give it some time to develop. Viparita Karani usually provides all of these conditions.

6. Salamba Sarvangasana

Why you might feel a very strong increase in blood pressure focused especially in your upper chest, and a strong increase in blood pressure in your neck, head, and face as you move from Viparita Karani to Salamba Sarvangasana.

In Salamba Sarvangasana, but not Viparita Karani (1) the legs, pelvis, and abdomen are as high above the heart as they can be, so gravity pushes venous blood from the lower body as strongly as possible into the heart through the inferior vena cava, and this high volume of blood gets pumped out of the heart into the aorta within a few beats, (2) in a fully vertical Salamba Sarvangasana, the heart is completely upside down and as high above the aortic arch and other arteries of the upper chest as it can be, so as the heart pumps out blood, gravity maximally increases its pressure on these arteries, (3) the heart is also as high above the superior vena cava and other veins of the upper chest as it can be, so gravity maximally increases pressure on blood in these veins, (4) although there is a greater vertical drop from the upper chest to the head in Salamba Sarvangasana than in Viparita Karani, the drop is not large in absolute terms, so gravity only weakly drains blood away from the upper chest into the head; the four factors above suggest that both arterial and venous blood pressure and blood volume in the upper chest may be higher in Salamba Sarvangasana than in any other pose in this series, and (5) in Salamba Sarvangasana, the vertical drop from the heart to the head is greater than in Viparita Karani, so Salamba Sarvangasana puts greater fluid pressure in the neck, face and the rest of the head than Viparita Karani does.

Why you might feel a large further drop in pressure in the feet, legs, and pelvis as you move from Viparita Karani to Salamba Sarvangasana.

When you lift your pelvis up from Viparita Karani to Salamba Sarvangasana you also raise your legs and feet higher above your heart. The increased vertical distance causes stronger draining of fluids from the feet and legs, which you may feel as a drop in pressure.

Why you might feel a more active brain in Salamba Sarvangasana compared to Viparita Karani.

This may seem paradoxical at first. Salamba Sarvangasana puts more pressure on the aortic and carotid baroreceptors than Viparita Karani does and is therefore theoretically capable of producing a stronger brain-quieting baroreflex response. However, this response can be blocked or reversed by muscular effort, mental effort, or discomfort, all of which are more common in Salamba Sarvangasana than in Viparita Karani. One might expect that skilled practitioners who can practice Salamba Sarvangasana with minimal effort and great comfort might experience a greater brain-quieting baroreflex. Likewise, anyone who can get comfortable in supported Salamba Sarvangasana, which requires little muscular or mental effort, may be able to enjoy this quieting experience.

Incidentally, it has been proposed that the flexed position of the neck in Salamba Sarvangasana may somehow stimulate the carotid baroreceptors. This hypothesis awaits evidence.

7. Salamba Sirsasana I

Why you might feel a distinct shift of blood pressure to the head itself, especially strong in regions nearest the floor (for example, the top of head, forehead, eyes) when you change from Salamba Sarvangasana to Salamba Sirsasana.

Salamba Sirsasana creates the maximum possible vertical drop from feet to head and from heart to head, so it causes maximal shift of all body fluids toward the head, with the maximum fluid pressure in the parts of the head nearest the floor.

It appears that no one has scientifically measured actual blood pressure in the head in Salamba Sirsasana, but we can make an educated guess about it. Extrapolating from a 1963 study7 a rough estimate is that a person whose arterial blood pressure while standing in Tadasana is 104/75 mm Hg at heart level and 213/178 mm Hg at the ankle might have a pressure of 148/113 mm Hg at forehead level while in Salamba Sirsasana.

Why you might feel less pressure, but still high pressure, in the upper chest in Salamba Sirsasana compared to Salamba Sarvangasana.

Salamba Sirsasana takes the head and most of the neck substantially further below the upper chest than Salamba Sarvangasana does, so gravity drains fluids away from the upper chest into the neck and head more strongly in Salamba Sirsasana than in Salamba Sarvangasana. This may account for the sensation of lower pressure in the upper chest that may occur in Salamba Sirsasana.

Why you might feel either strong clogging or strong clearing of the nose and sinuses in Salamba Sirsasana.

In Salamba Sirsasana, the nose and sinuses are as far below the feet and heart as they can be, so filling pressure there is maximal. This can cause nasal and sinus tissues to swell with fluid. However, blood vessels of the nose and sinuses may have the local arterial reflex that causes them to automatically constrict and expel fluid when they are filled up at high pressure. Some people experience strong clearing of the nose and/or sinuses in Salamba Sirsasana; it is possible that this may be caused by such a local reflex. It seems plausible that when this occurs, the reflex might help protect the arteries against damage from excessive blood pressure, but it would require careful study to demonstrate convincingly if and when this is true.

Why you might feel similar or lower in pressure in the feet, legs, and pelvis in Salamba Sirsasana compared to Salamba Sarvangasana.

The vertical drop from the feet to the heart is about the same in Salamba Sirsasana and Salamba Sarvangasana. This means that gravity probably aids venous drainage from the feet to the heart about the same amount in both poses, so the feet may feel similar, low pressure in the two poses. On the other hand, the lower head position relative to the heart in Salamba Sirsasana makes it harder for venous blood
to return from the head to the heart than in Salamba Sarvangasana. This could reduce the volume of blood filling the heart, making it harder for the heart to
pump arterial blood all the way up the feet in Salamba Sirsasana than in Salamba Sarvangasana. This could hypothetically cause a sensation of lower pressure (and actual lower pressure) in the feet in Salamba Sirsasana.

Why you might feel a more active brain in Salamba Sirsasana compared to Salamba Sarvangasana.

The carotid baroreceptors are further below the heart in Salamba Sirsasana than in Salamba Sarvangasana, so one might expect blood pressure on these receptors to be higher in Salamba Sirsasana, and this could cause a stronger baroreflex-mediated quieting response in the brain. However, practicing Salamba Sirsasana typically requires more muscular effort and attention to balance than practicing Salamba Sarvangasana does, and these factors might make it more challenging to fully activate the baroreceptor-mediated calming effect in Salamba Sirsasana.

8. Repeat the same sequence in reverse order

9. After the final Tadasana, lie flat in Salamba Savasana again until you feel ready to move.
Why is it recommended to lie flat in Savasana after the final Tadasana?

Tadasana is an activating pose and not ideal for putting the mind and body in a rested, balanced state at the end of practice. Savasana is the most neutral pose with respect to gravitational effects, mental effort, and muscular effort, so it helps restore both physiological and mental balance.

The practice demo sequence we did here was designed to teach about the physiology of inversions. It was not a typical inversions practice sequence. It is often good for a typical inversions practice sequence to end with supported Savasana, a restful, head-up pose, as a counterpose to all the head-down poses. This could theoretically help speed draining of waste fluids (venous blood and lymph) that could have accumulated in the head, neck, and upper chest in the head-down poses. Flat Savasana would also support such draining, but it would probably be slower.

FURTHER PRACTICE

Here are some ways you can use knowledge about inversions in practice.

Experiment with longer durations in the poses of the demo sequence.

Experiment with variations of the poses, see and feel what happens, and think about why. For example, practice Eka Pada Sarvangasana and Eka Pada Sirsasana, feel the difference between the foot of the down leg and the up leg, then compare the feet when you bring them back together.

Experiment with poses that invert one part of the body but not another, such as Adho Mukha Svanasana, Uttanasana, and Setu Bandha Sarvangasana. Think about what parts of the body are below the heart and what parts are above the heart in these poses, and notice associated sensations.

Design and adjust asanas to achieve specific draining and filling effects. For example, try to design a pose that helps drain swollen ankles while also reducing nasal congestion, then actually set it up, practice it, and adjust it so it works best.

See Roger Cole’s Instagram interview: click here

References

1. Wolff, C.B. et al. (2016). A Discussion on the Regulation of Blood Flow and Pressure. In: Elwell, C.E., Leung, T.S., Harrison, D.K. (eds) Oxygen Transport to Tissue XXXVII. Advances in Experimental Medicine and Biology, vol 876. Springer, New York, NY. https://doi. org/10.1007/978-1-4939-3023-4_16

2. Bonvallet, M., P. Dell, and G. Hiebel. Tonus sympathique et activité électrique corticale. Electroencephalogr. Clin. Neurophysiol. 6: 119-144, 1954. doi: 10.1016/0013-4694(54)90011-5

3. Bridgers, S. L., S. S. Spencer, D. D. Spencer, and C. T. Sasaki. A cerebral effect of carotid sinus stimulation: Observation during intraoperative electroencephalographic monitoring. Arch. Neurol. 42: 574-577, 1985. doi: 10.1001/ archneur.1985.04060060076012

4. Dell, P., and Y. Padel. Rapid falling asleep provoked by selective stimulation of vagal afferents in the cat. Electroencephalogr. Clin. Neurophysiol. 18: 725, 1965.

5. About half the people chosen for this study had normal blood pressure and the other half had high blood pressure. The difference between arm and ankle was about the same in each group. The blood pressure values reported here are the average for all participants, so it is higher than normal blood pressure.

Malhotra et al. Blood pressure changes in the leg on standing. J Clin Hypertens (Greenwich)., Sep-Oct 2002;4(5):350-4. doi: 10.1111/j.1524- 6175.2002.00767.x.

6. Truijen et al. A definition of normovolaemia and consequences for cardiovascular control during orthostatic and environmental stress. Eur J Appl Physiol (2010) 109:141–157 DOI 10.1007/s00421- 009-1346-5.

7. Rao S. Cardiovascular responses to head-stand posture. J Appl Physiol. 1963 Sep;18:987-90. doi: 10.1152/jappl.1963.18.5.987

Roger Cole, Ph.D. is an Iyengar Yoga teacher and research scientist with over 40 years experience applying science to asana and pranayama practice. He specializes in training students of all levels, from beginners to teachers, in anatomy, physiology, precise physical technique, breathing, meditation, relaxation, sleep, and biological rhythms.

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I knew Rebecca from her workshops at the Iyengar Yoga Institute of New York, as well as teacher training at the Center. One of the silver linings of the pandemic Zoom era was that I was able to be a regular online student of hers. I draw great inspiration from her ability to teach a varied, multilevel group, creating a truly profound sense of unity.

I am grateful that Rebecca granted me an interview, which, originally I had intended to be part of a larger issue on trauma. As with many things, the project changes as you get into the weeds with it. In the end, I feel we have a portrait of Rebecca as a student and teacher that I am sure will be inspirational to our community, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! I have edited it for purposes of clarity and readability. —Dan Shuman

TRAUMATIC STARTS

REBECCA: I’d had a horrific trauma on Friday, June 13, 1973. Over the years, I think I identified with my injury and my trauma a lot. As a young person—I was 16—and that was my identity. I wasn’t into yoga or natural... anything. I was living at home, in a tight knit, Roman Catholic family. I was the eldest of six. I didn’t know anything about alternatives, or how to deal with what happened to me on a different plane than the physical. Like, Ok, great, I almost lost my leg and now I’m wearing a full leg brace, and now what?

I fell through a greenhouse where I was employed. It was a dumb thing to do, but I sat on the roof. Supposedly, the wooden structure of the glazed panes was really sturdy. But it was an old roof, and I fell through a few panes— buttocks first—and was hanging, suspended there.

I could have crashed to the floor, about 8 ft. below,but I panicked. Maybe I should have just let myself go through, but I held myself up and twisted to get outand jump down from this low roof with a submerged greenhouse. I ended up severing the femoral artery and the sciatic nerve right down to the bone. I remember hearing the blood pouring out of my body, and no one was around. I was crying for help. An employee about my age heard me, and thought very quickly. She grabbed a towel by the pool, and a stick, and crafted a tourniquet up above the injury, to stop the flow of blood. I think I would have otherwise bled to death. 

Her intervention basically saved the leg and saved my life. Eventually, the ambulance came. It was all a blur, and I was in shock.

As a young person in high school, trying to blend in, I wanted to be just like everybody else. I was not a renegade person who liked to be different. After the accident, I wasn’t the same. They were able to stitch everything back up, but I had a permanent sciatic injury. I had to wear a full leg brace to my upper thigh crease which was heavy, metal, and bulky. I felt disfigured.

And it’s a terrible thing to say. I’m not proud of what I thought, because I believed I would be stigmatized because of the disfigurement.That was my 16-year-old mentality. Now I’m different, and people are goingto think there is something wrong with me mentally! Of course, you grow out of that ignorant stage. But, at the time, I had to deal with looks and stares, and being handicapped. It was an egoic blow to be unable to wear trendy shoes and clothing and instead walk about with orthopedic shoes and crutches.

At the time, we were not aware of sports medicine and special therapies. My supportive parents did the very best they could do. I was fortunate to have some sessions with a Czech physical therapist who did biosound therapy. It was the first time after the accident I felt that my life might go on. The treatments were meant to trigger the sciatic nerve to bring about dorsiflexion. There was a glimmer of movement in my toes and ankle, but that was it. I discovered I had only plantar flexion and inversion.

FINDING YOGA

Before my accident, I was a gymnast in high school. Afterwards, I lost my ability to engage in that sport as well as other typical fun activities. The world has made incredible advancements to accommodate being physically challenged. There’s a surfer with one leg, marathon blade runners, Special Olympics, etc. But mine was the typical world of the 70s. We were a middle- class, large family without huge resources. We didn’t have connections to specialists or alternative modalities that may have helped.

In 1976, a friend suggested I try yoga, and I purchased Richard Hittleman's 28-Day Yoga Plan. I practiced the poses in my living room, holding on to a wall for balance, as I couldn’t balance independently on my left leg. But I learned the poses, and thought, I love this yoga. And it was only on the physical ‘hatha’ yoga part of it. I wasn’t into meditation or anything spiritual yet. It was more like, Oh, this is something with my physical body that I can do, and I think it’s going to help me.

After a while I realized I needed more information. The instructions would refer to breathing, but I didn’t understand when or how to breathe. So the same friend said, “Let’s go take a class.”

That was my first experience. I took off my brace, got on a mat, and did yoga. It was very life-changing for me. I started to experience compassion for myself, and to develop much needed self-esteem. Those weren’t the words I had then, but I can articulate them now, looking back.

I realized I was getting my self-esteem back from the accident but still was thinking only superficially. That was my attitude at the time, but that’s gradually changed over the decades of being involved in yoga. In my classes, prior to the invocation, I’ll sometimes tell my students, “You get entangled in the outer self and the outer identity, the outer narrative, of who you are.”

About three years later, I discovered Iyengar Yoga, and then all hell broke loose! I thought, There is a CHANCE I might cure myself with yoga, and get my properly functioning leg back. While I had great success recovering on many levels, the sciatic nerve did not regenerate to provide strength, structure, and dorsiflexion. I did not develop back pains that can afflict many due to sciatic nerve injuries, but because of my asymmetric gait and limp, my right hip required a replacement in 2007. In any case, yoga gave me a new chance, a new try at feeling good about myself.

The poses were meaningful and strengthened my physical body. Through the physical aspect of asanaI became more intrigued with the emotional/mental body where I was still suffering. I thought I was alesser individual because I wasn’t “whole.” This was very damaging and incorrect thinking. In hindsight, I realize my injury was the best teacher to understand the stronghold the kleshas had on my life. Our physical appearance has nothing to do with mental acuity, or spiritual ability.

“Don’t practice for cosmetic beauty, practice for cosmic beauty. Practice for inner beauty and inner light.” — B.K.S. Iyengar

I didn’t understand the concept of the kleshas, or emotional disturbances, until after 1980, when I became cognizant of something deeper than the physical outer body. Feeling sorry for yourself and feeling dejected are the work of the ego. It fosters a passive aggressive pride that says, I don’t want to go forward, and I don’t want to do anything, because, Why should I? This is self-defeating and does not follow sound yogic philosophy, to be concerned about the impermanence of our human body.

I remember listening to an NPR interview with a fellow who was completely paralyzed, except his big toe. It occurred to me that everything in my body was basically fine, except my lower left leg. Here’s this man who communicates with people by moving his big toe! That really struck me. This interview made me see how one can fall into the trap of feeling hopeless and unable to pick oneself up, and inspired me with his tenacity to thrive. It’s important to be thankful for what you have. Some years after my accident, I was able to cultivate gratitude.

SOMETHING TO OFFER

As I’ve been able to identify more with what I can achieve rather than my limitations, it’s becomeclearer to me that I might have something to share with people. They might not have a sciatic nerveinjury, which is unique, but injuries are not unique. So many practitioners have many obstacles such as osteoarthritis, comorbidities, scoliosis, cancers, aging, etc. People began to ask me about their problems. I think I had empathy, having been there, through a whole range of negative emotions, having practiced classical asanas that are no longer advisable. I would ask myself, "How can I start to adapt certain asanas so they are therapeutically sound and uplifting? I became more and more interested in modifications that benefited me. And I was able to cultivate that eye, that intuition, when working with students.

When I say intuition, I mean it in the sense that everybody has it. Everyone has intuition, and the next step is to tune into one’s inner wisdom/buddhi. As I taught more, I developed an interest in helping others. Helping students online can be done. Modifying poses with commonly accessible props as well as modifying the stages students will potentially be able to accomplish is my goal. Not all will have an array of wooden props found in studios, nor someone to help adjust the props. It's not a perfect situation teaching online, but it is workable.

BREAKING IT DOWN

My teacher Mary Dunn was always supportive and objective when helping me. She'd say, “Rebecca, try this,” and she never made me feel like there were limitations. She was always inspiring. Mary had sucha gift for helping others help themselves. That is the goal of my teaching, too. I was inspired by Mary, Guruji, Geetaji, and Patricia Walden. Dean, who has helped me tremendously, is another inspiration. He worked with me to put together my yoga foot brace that I wear while practicing and teaching.

I’m interested in breaking a pose down into its principal actions, its key characteristics, its signature components, the natural way a pose can flow, or how it doesn’t flow. How does one access the fluidity? Where do people get stuck? I sort things out with the use of props, if necessary, and I try to make it an enjoyable learning and discovery process. I do believe that sukha is a very key word—sthira sukham asanam. Sukha is happiness, happiness in the yogic context of neutrality and equanimity, sthira is steadiness.There should be sthira sukham asanam always present in our practice. People have told me I have inspired them to keep going when things get tough. I’m deeply honored and happy that I’ve helped someone feel that they can go a little further. Many of my students are teachers. They find that this approach is helping them be more effective in supporting their students. Just a small way of looking at the asanas with a different eye, a compassionate eye, a friendly eye, an analytical eye. Self-analysis is really important. You have to analyze it for yourself.

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LEARNING FROM THE IYENGARS

Guruji gave me the biggest gift of self-actualization. At an early U.S. convention he saw my left leg and said, “Let that side be your guru and teach the rest of you.” I saw Guruji in Pune in '87. He had that critical, objective eye. It was the straight shot of an arrow to the problem with a pose. He taught us the principles of trial and error, comparative study, and judicious practice. Over the years, this has been a motto for me. As Guruji has told his teachers, we need to put ourselves in the students’ situation. He would try to emulate a person’s problem. He could emulate a kidney problem, a neck problem, even a brain tumor, and figure out how to help. Abhi, Geetaji, and many others who worked closely with Guruji speak of his brilliance in this regard. A small atom of that is the ability to have an interest. Mary Dunn always said you have to keep a keen interest, a deep interest in pranayama, in asana. Guruji expected us to dive deep into this subject.

When I began traveling to Pune to study in the late 80s, Guruji was teaching less and less of the public classes, although during the intensives he did teach. I am definitely part of a cohort born and bred in the briar patch of Geetaji Iyengar during the late 80s, 90s, and 2000s. She was holding all of the public classes. I was always impressed with how seamlessly she would teach a pose in stages. Take, for instance, Uttana Padasana. That's a complex pose with the arching of your neck, arms and legs extended out and your back, abdomen, dorsal—How do you get someone into that pose? “Have your knees bent, keep your elbows down to support so you don’t put all the weight on your neck. Get the arm action.”

Look into the Preliminary and Intermediate course booklets. Prime example Utkatasana: arm action followed by leg action, leg action followed by arm action. Arms and legs together. That inspires me. When you learn an important principle of Geetaji’s and apply it to your practice of any particular pose, your understanding deepens. You begin to see where a student might have problems, and you can give them suggestions.

ALL TEACHING IS MULTILEVEL

Our center is a small place, 20 or so students would be a big class. My students are central Pennsylvanian people, with a few advanced practitioners, and our teachers. I went up for my Junior I, II, III, and Senior I Assessments working with my local core group, as well as my out- of-town workshop participants. But those came later.

I wasn’t doing a lot of traveling in the beginning. Being inspired to keep fresh and teach a Kurmasana action, or Ardha Baddha Padmottanasana upright, or some portion of a challenging backbend. I always thank my Monday morning gentle yoga class of women and a few men at the Center for Well- Being. They were my humble students who would give me advice or say, “This

variation really worked for me,” and I would say, “Did you know this was the pose you were working on?” And they would be shocked when they saw the picture in Light on Yoga. So my multilevel approach really came about as the result of teaching my local students.

As I developed our teacher education and out-of-town workshops, I was in a bigger community. There were people with different abilities. The challenge is keeping everybody going, enjoying their practice in a community. Some people can do more, some can do less, and, as a teacher, one develops the skill of doing three things at once. Abhi has done that at conventions and online, giving modifications to a wide range of people.

WHEN PROBLEMS ARISE

Something I learned from my first teacher Ramanand Patel is that, when someone is experiencing an emotional breakdown, don’t run, hug, and coddle. Give them space. Don’t immediately try to fix it.

At first it seemed insensitive, but now I see the wisdom. Depending on the student, a teacher shows karuna (compassion), in different situations, upeksha—remaining impartial or neutral. You may have to be indifferent to the fact that they are having a breakdown, but make them feel comfortable to be in class, should they choose to remain. Indifference may sound crude to some people. Strive to keep your pace as a teacher without drawing too much unwanted attention to the student. Always follow up after class with sincere support.

I remember teaching at Feathered Pipe Ranch and someone was having an emotional time. I didn’t know what was going on. So I changed the format of the class with students in standing poses facing the other direction to offer privacy to this particular student, so they could be free with their emotions in Adho Mukha Virasana. Afterwards, we talked.

COMMON SENSE

Common sense is not common to you until it becomes a particular part of your mental bank of memories, thinking process, and your being-ness. Common sense does dawn on you at some point. Studying with Geetaji, I would frequently think, “Why did I not think of that myself?” Now, I’d like to think I am able to apply her principles of common sense! Geetaji is no longer with us, but she’s always with us in our hearts. Her legacy, like Guruji’s lives on. She’s always with me. Her teachings were so impactful and so deep. I still listen to her recordings frequently.

CONTINUING TO LEARN

I recently took a class online with Abhi where she used the chair to twist in a way that was so effective, and new to me. My eyes opened up. We are always students at heart and I do my best to catch as much as possible of Abhi’s teaching. I want to pass that feeling on to students to help them see and do more, and be more alive in their practice and teaching.

Our teaching is unique to us because of our own experience, but our foundational fundamental learninghas come from the Iyengars. Don’t get me wrong, we all have plenty to contribute. I find myself taking one aspect of a particular teaching point of Geetaji’s and developing a whole class with this in mind. We give credit to the Iyengars, and take credit for what we develop in our own practice. Humility is necessary to remain a student of yoga.

MOVING FORWARD

Iyengar Yoga is moving. It’s fresh, and it’s going with the times. Many senior teachers are in their 70s now. Everything is changing. We are aging. As our practices change, the way we teach is going to change. I lovethat, in this system, we address the needs of so many different students. We have to pay attention to the younger students coming up, and guide them to feel fulfilled. We consider those in the class who can do more, and inspire them. So it isn’t just us old folks showing, “Here is a chair, here is a block, here are multiple props.”

Multifaceted teaching, the ability to teach in this stellar way that is expected of us, keeps us alive. It keeps us teaching longer, because we are held at attention with what we’ve learned, yet we can go with what we are personally capable of doing.

I’ll tell you there are a lot of poses such as arm balances that I can no longer complete as when I was younger, due to shoulder problems, hip replacement, and leg issues. Like anybody else, there are problems that arise along the way. But I still feel motivated to do things.

I recently taught an arm balance class, and said to myself, “Wow, these movements are hard for me!” ButI wanted to take it as a challenge, to help people help themselves. Those who can’t do the classic pose will see, “Oh, here’s what I can do. I can go this far, and others can go farther.” As a student, teacher, and mentor, I’m on my toes staying alert and present. Being in the present moment without regrets that certain asanas within my practice are over for me. Religiously maintaining my daily pranayama and meditation practices is essential. How else do we stay fresh, alert, and honest?

Whether a seasoned practitioner comes to class, or an aging, long time beginner, I’m held accountable. Thanks to the Iyengars and all my mentors, I feel motivated to keep a high standard; it keeps me alive as a practitioner and, as a result, keeps teaching fresh.

Share The Light by IYNAUS

About The Light

The Light is the magazine of the Iyengar Yoga community of the U.S. (IYNAUS). Community-driven content is published regularly on this Substack publication by the Marketing, Communications, and Media Committee. Submit article ideas or content to publications@iynaus.org.