Yoga in the rain, anyone?

Yogini friend Lyn was eager to hear about my evening Mysore practice. It went well, I texted back. Truth is, it was horrible! It was an off day for me right from the beginning: the rain was pouring, I couldn’t parallel park and the only available spot was quite a distance from the shala, I forgot my umbrella in the car and was too far away to run back for it, the instructor was late so I got all cold inside the air conditioned studio.

The six of us were prompted to start our Suryas while waiting for the teacher. Fair enough. When she finally showed she divided us into 3 groups. My partner, Clara, looked like she had been doing yoga for some time already. I’m in good hands, I thought, someone to follow the series from. Nope, we were both taking cues from each other: she would look at me from over her T-arms and I would peer at her from between my legs in Prasarita. It was a complete mess, that didn’t escape the teacher’s eye. So she “punished” us by making us do the series from the TOP every single time we broke the sequence (which was often). Sure there was a flow of energy between me and Clara--we were feeding off each other’s negative energies. But we had a good laugh anyway, and we both knew what to do by the time we reached Shavasana.

“Kayong dalawa, you must repeat the postures every time you lose track of them. This is the only way, you can learn the flow.” Yes, teacher. LYN, don’t be absent ha!

Article: The Quiet Strength of a Woman's Body by Kino MacGregor

The yoga world sometimes makes deeply held assumptions about male and female capabilities. Contemporary dogmas of what’s possible for men and women contribute to what every yoga practitioner believes is possible for male and female bodies.

In yoga there is an unfair assumption that all men effortlessly perform gravity-defying lift-ups, and all women snake their way into all manner of flexible positions. While the mindset of teachers, students and traditions often perpetuates some very traditional gender roles, the reality of yoga practitioners tells a different story. There are men who are hypermobile and unable to lift their butts off the ground, and there are women who are stiff as a board but able to balance unwaveringly in a handstand. One of yoga’s greatest lessons is that there are no universal standards for bodies, and that all bodies, genders, races and ages have the ability to benefit from and master this ancient practice.

That being said, if you’re a woman it’s still easy to discount yourself when you peer into the lexicon of masterful yoga DVDs from strong, skinny men like Rodney Yee, David Swenson, Richard Freeman, Chuck Miller and Sharath Rangaswamy. Your child-bearing hips and soft curves may look nothing like these master teachers’ sinewy legs. When you look for evidence that women can actually be strong in the yoga world, you dig into the very essence of femininity. Sometimes it seems like women who can perform gravity-defying feats and achieve political success have overcompensated in toughness to excel in a male-dominated world.

My personal journey into yoga led me to ask the very difficult question of whether there is a natural strength in a woman’s body that is different, but not less, than a man’s. I began my journey into yoga nearly ten years ago as the stereotypical flexible girl with no strength. In awe of the mysterious lift-up, arm balances, handstands and vinyasas, I looked critically at my extra cushioning around the bum, small arms and petite frame, and blamed my shape and gender for what I could not easily do. Male teachers in the Western world, meaning well, simply let me slide, saying that they did not expect women to actually match men’s strength. Movement-based, scientifically-backed anatomy books state that women’s bodies have a lower center of gravity and therefore have a different set of rules to work with, thereby casting women as the physically weaker gender. Science, stereotypes and points of view could have created an artificial limit, but I dug deeper.

My ninety-three-year-old master teacher, Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, said one day in a group conference in Mysore, India in his iconographic broken English: “Yoga changing. Now some women very strong. Correct asana performing possible. Before, not possible. Now possible. All women doing all asanas o.k.” Krishnamacharya, all of our teachers’ teacher, was the first Brahmin to allow women into the secret study of the Indian sacred texts and is also quoted as saying that women are the future of yoga. In the arena of a quickly equalizing realm of power, it is fitting that women’s role in yoga also changes and evolves. The basic teaching in yoga is the unification of extremes, and in that light it is appropriate that both men and women are asked to move towards a balance between strength and flexibility.

After years of practice and mastery over seemingly impossible postures, there is now no doubt that women have an equal type of strength, too. A true woman’s power is magnetic, attractive and visionary. A woman’s body receives, nurtures, gives, produces, holds, bears, bends, grows, shrinks and sometimes even breaks, only to rebuild. In the heart of every female form rests a womb that is a great, silent and dark potential for life. Where a man’s body has muscles to push, thrust and engage, a woman’s body beckons, seduces and contains. It is in this crucial difference where women must find their strength in the yoga practice and in life: not in emulating the deep belly thrust of a man’s world, but in tapping into a uniquely feminine way to engage the world will women touch the mystery of true female power.

Having practiced the challenging Advanced Series of Ashtanga Yoga continuously for the last five years, I find that endurance, pragmatism and grace are well within the domain of my woman’s body, strength and soul. A man’s strength is louder, directed outward, striving, reaching and sometimes fighting. It’s not to say that women don’t fight or aren’t violent, but that in a woman’s body violence takes on another form. A woman’s sometimes smaller body cannot simply mimic male form in the physical world to succeed. In order to perform the same feats of strength with the graceful heart of a woman, the female body must learn to access its natural reserves of strength by honoring the female form in and of itself. This strength lies not in forceful thrusting, but instead in determining exactly how and where to work, with a perfect mix of strength and grace.

In every handstand, arm balance, backbend, and gravity-defying lift-up, I do not seek to replicate the male form, but instead to allow the flow of my female life to course through my veins, muscles, body, mind and soul.

In our ability to choose, to gather and to draw, we find our true empowerment: Not in emulating the boisterous strength of men, but instead shining like the full moon on a clear night, we are graceful, iconic, powerful, beautiful, mesmerizing, enchanting and captivating. In the yoga practice strength must come for women as well as men. When it comes, it is not at the expense of the graceful female form but as an enhancement of it–for it is a quiet strength that lies within every woman’s body.

© 2008 Kino MacGregor (article condensed from Fit Yoga, June 2008)

JON CAGAS: On a mission to Mysore

En route to India, Jon Cagas is in town for a stopover. We yogins over at UP have been very fortunate and privileged to have him back even just briefly. For those who don’t know him yet, Jonathan Cagas implemented and taught the yoga program at the UP College of Human Kinetics some years ago which he relinquished in 2006 to teach at a private university in the Emirates. Last year, Jon enriched his training with a 200-hour intensive in the Centered Yoga Institute in Thailand under Paul Dallaghan and Neil Barker plus a 100-hour advanced course on hatha yoga and pranayama with Sri O.P. Tiwari. In August, he will begin practice at the pre-eminent Ashtanga Yoga Research Institute (AYRI) which was established by Sri K. Pattabhi Jois who has put Mysore on the world map. Tim Miller, David Swenson and John Scott are some of the high-profile products of AYRI. Before the end of the year Jon, along with Tesa Celdran of Pulse Yoga, will join the ranks of Bela Lipat who have trained directly under Pattabhi and will now most likely also learn from Sharath, grandson of Guruji and heir apparent.

While here, Jon has been refining and polishing our practice. In the Mysore tradition he began Day 2 (first day was Saturday, June 28th) with a chant then started counting and calling out the poses in Sanskrit. He emphasized the relevance and relation of proper breathing, root locks and gaze to executing the asanas. We must experience tristana, he says, or the union of ujayi, the bandhas and dristi. He also scrutinized for us Suryas A and B making adjustments in the way we performed every single vinyasa in both Sun Salutations. In the past two days under his guidance, I have already deepened my practice beyond what I thought I could achieve.

I fell in love with Ashtanga Yoga when I first tried it during the Summer. The nature of my job makes self-practice almost impossible. So I have been feeding my interest in Ashtanga with research. I may be familiar with the techniques in theory but in practice, I had been clueless about, for example, how to negotiate my arms past my back or knees to bind and maintain the twist for Maricyasana. Not anymore.

We all received individualised instruction from Jon who honed our skills and gently coaxed us, boosted our confidence and with smooth, swift adjustments eased us into the poses. This naturally extended our class past the requisite 90 minutes, much to our luck. What seemed daunting before now made perfect sense as he revealed the steps to get there. That, for me, separates a great teacher from a good one.

Jon also has much more to impart than many other instructors. Having obtained a Masters degree in sports education from UP, he is well-versed on human anatomy and the key muscles of yoga. He is also a professional trainer certified by the American Council of Exercise (ACE). In short, Jon brings to the table a combination of Eastern philosophies and Western science which basically makes him well-equipped for Mysore.

Back to class at UP. Jon helped one of the senior Psych professors execute Maricyasana B, and as for me, he got me past that all through Maricyasana D. Whew! For a newbie, that should qualify as a major milestone (right?). Not even an Indian yogi at a popular shala could assist me with that set of asanas. Maybe next time we don’t have to skip Bhujapidasana all the way to Supta Konasana hmmm?

Before I get ahead of myself...watching Jon Cagas demonstrate the full primary series including Pashasana, Eka Pada Sirsasana and other poses from the intermediate series truly inspires awe and respect. Looking back at the journey of this 31-year old Ashtangi, he has also made his mark as a member of the flagship Team Yoga Philippines which sought to bring the yoga boom beyond exclusive Makati to places like the UP gym. With its pared-down, no frills quality UP has attracted university professors, mountain climbers, former ballerinas and Elsa, my classmate, who is a monk. Should he come back to the country and to UP after AYRI, then hopefully we will see more aptly-trained Ashtangins north of the capital.

Jon ended our session with a chant which was offered in gratitude to both teacher and students to celebrate mutual learning. I went home with a sense of tranquility, suspending all apprehensions that tomorrow I would have achey, “Mysore” muscles.

Jon with his students in U.P. and current teacher Joji Balcita whom he trained.