The daily practice of this yoga not only makes me feel good about myself, but removes the
kinks in my body that come from daily use. But more important, the act of discipline seems to
set an intention, a type of dedication to inner growth and love for myself and others, plus
nurturing my best life; that’s huge. It feels like a contribution to something bigger than me.
Then there’s the method…the quiet Mysore room with the sound of breath and the movement of bodies…the teacher’s instructive whisper that is magic to me. In Ashtanga led-classes there’s a lack of poetry (“feel the earth beneath your feet…”) but a continuous counting, and poses called out in their native Sanskrit that appeals to me. I love the individual attention I get for my healthiest approach in asana, but even more, when I’m trying beyond my capability, my teacher coming to whisper softly, “Where do you have to go?” that makes my eyes tear up, his words ringing truth, ‘yes, where do I have to go?’ I love being taught to notice little nuances in all of my postures, the use of the bandhas, the movement with the breath, which all-in-all ‘tricks’ me into the present, making the colors seem brighter when I walk out of the shala. I am grateful for the emotions coming up to be released and the lightness and happiness I feel after practice.
I love how inspired I get when hanging out with fellow yogis who talk about things of value, and really support each and every one to ‘be who we really are,’ whatever that looks like. But most of all, I love how my life changes without me always noticing…maybe in the form of more compassion; maybe in wanting my life to have meaning; maybe in willingness to contribute; maybe in healthier choices; maybe in my heart opening enough to cry when I seem a man stoop down to help a child. These and many more gifts have cultivated my love for Ashtanga and I couldn’t be more grateful for such a great friend.
