Yoga Competition, Round 1

There is this peculiarity of the Bikram's yoga culture called the Annual International Asana Championships. It's a huge deal for Bikram's teachers and "advanced" students around the world. This has been going on for Bikram followers since about 2003. And apparently there's a long tradition of yoga competitions in India. But this history is something that I haven't researched, so I can't say how rich or formal or enduring these competitions have actually been. Like any good yogi, I can only speak from my own experience.

And so, what is my experience? That's what I want to tell you about. And I'm going to start from the beginning.

If my records are correct, the first Bikram class I ever did was on September 19, 2003, at Bikram Yoga Victoria -- on Fort Street exactly where Moksha Yoga Victoria now resides. I had gotten into running and was using Bikram for cross-training. I was alternating between running, yoga and weights -- probably a great balance in hindsight -- but pretty soon, my Bikram practice was all-consuming and the other practices dropped by the wayside. According to my yoga instructors, I had a good asana practice -- which I guess meant that I could actually do the poses. Looking at me from the outside, I projected the right aesthetic. Whether I was doing things with ease and equanimity on the inside didn't really matter ... it was the outward image that mattered.

After a year had passed, I was approached by one of the teachers -- I think it was Cheryl Miller -- and she asked whether I'd like to enter a yoga competition. Being naturally competitive, I decided to give it a try. It seemed a bit of an oxymoron to me, but the Boss himself had these words to say ... words that I cut out and stuck in my journal:

'You're not competing two persons against each other. You're competing with yourself.'

Bikram Choudhury, host of yoga competition

I practiced the advanced class along with the local teachers and learnt the basics of the competition. The format was, and is, simple enough:

• Five compulsory postures drawn from Bikram's beginner sequence, in this order: Standing Head to Knee, Standing Bow Pulling, Bow Pose (on the floor), Rabbit Pose, and Intense Westward Stretch
• Two optional postures drawn from the Bikram's advanced sequence (there is such a thing)
• Completed within three minutes
• In front of a panel of judges

For my compulsory postures I chose Fish in Lotus and Finger Stand. I practiced my routine a fair bit. I was obsessed enough to even draw out the first pose -- Standing Head to Knee -- just to drive it further into my mind and hopefully my body's reflexes.

Of course, I also had to get my head around what this was possibly about. I had to make sense of what seemed like an absurd act on my part. If you've read my post on downward dog, you'll know that I thrive on external validation, so there was certainly a part of that going on, but here's what I wrote the night before the competition:

Time passes quickly and yet there is only now. Here I am. Oh yes, that peculiar construct: I, me, ego. Riding on this body, forever chattering, forever trying to validate its own existence. The ego is a slippery thing, insinuating itself at every turn. Here I am! Look at me! Acknowledge me so that I might exist.

Occasional insights into the nature of things. Calmness and focus are becoming the norm, rather than the exception. Daily yoga and periods of meditative calm are no doubt key to this state. Inner strength. Yoga competition -- an oxymoron. Three minutes, seven poses. My practice is what it is. There is no certainty about what will happen tomorrow. Let others see the peace that yoga has brought to me! Namaste.

And so the day arrived -- December 4, 2004. I was at the Western Canada Yoga Asana Competition in Vancouver at the Bikram Cambie Street studio. All the competitors did a full warm up class and then the competition was on. Well eventually. These kind of things always take longer than you'd expect. Especially when there's a bunch of Bikram yogis involved.

The previous year, the competitions were combined men and women. Everyone competed on equal footing. But for the second year of competition, there was going to be separate men's and women's categories. Well, at least internationally. On this day, in Vancouver, there was only one man competing, and that was me. I have no idea why things went the way they did, but only as the winner's were announced did I realize that there was still only one category. I have to admit to some disappointment -- the lack of acknowledgement that on my first ever yoga competition, I had won the Western Canada Men's Asana Championships -- by default! Goofy for sure, but my name was never mentioned at the end. No gold stars. No shiny medallions. Yep. Just the taste of disappointment for my needy ego.

 

And a certificate.

 

Truthfully my routine was pretty appalling, but hey, I got up there and I did it! The funniest part was the very first pose -- Standing Head to Knee -- as I was bringing my head down towards my knee, I felt my balance teetering and so I actually hopped on my standing leg a couple of times, just to stay upright. Moving around the stage is not considered to be the best of form, no.

In the end it was Ida Ripley who took the day. Yes, this was Ida's very first competition. The same Ida that won the silver medal at the International Championships a few years later. I remember how surprised and thrilled see was when she was announced as the winner of this first competition, because she too didn't give her best performance. I remember her being quite upset with herself after her routine. But she did well enough, and I think that this was a big turning point in her yoga career. She's become quite a celebrity in the Bikram's world, and this was a pivotal day for her.

 

As for me, this was the first of many competitions, and a useful lesson in understanding the nature of my own ego. It was a muddled mix of intellectual understanding, a desire for external validation, the disappointment of feeling rejected, the equanimity of knowing that it didn't really matter, the ongoing quest for true transcendence, a taste of resentment, and the need to set things right. Of course these insights and feelings didn't all arise or become evident on the day. They were burbling in the background. That's what the ego does. Burbles.

 

When the competition was over, I was simply having fun hanging out with a bunch of crazy yogis. All that mattered was what happened on the outside -- what others could see. The competition was judged on external form and appearance. And if my yoga practice was to have been judged based on what was happening on the inside, well, most assuredly I would not be on top of the podium!

 

Yoga competition. Such an odd thing. You really should try it sometime. You might learn something about yourself.

Your True Yoga Teacher

The mind, your mind, seeks the truth. That is the role and purpose of your mind. But sometimes it forgets about it's true purpose. And so your mind wanders off. You get confused. You suffer. And then you come back looking for the truth.

This quest for truth is the need to understand things as they are. What is the truth of your existence? For example, are you and everything around you simply manifestions of one supreme Beingness? Or are you separate and finite and distinct? What is your connection to the universe?

My view is that you are the stuff of the universe. You arose from it. The universe creates people. Indeed, the universe "peoples", just as the ocean waves. A wave is simply a momentary phenomena on the surface of the ocean. When the wave disappears, the ocean remains. You are the ocean, not just the wave. You are a unique and specific self-expression of the ocean, for sure, but you are still the ocean.

"Avidya" can be defined as "not being with life as it is". Avidya is not seeing things clearly, not seeing the truth. You need to see things clearly.

And this is why I like mirrors in the yoga room. This part Bikram certainly got right. If you're in a yoga studio with mirrors, use them. Look in the mirror. What do you see? It's you. Soak yourself up! Gaze at yourself. Intently. You might see that you're a wave, you're a part of everything.

There's a saying that the teacher will show up when the student is ready. Who's your teacher? How would you know when you've finally met? Well, look in the mirror. Guess what? You're the teacher.

I'm not the teacher when I'm standing in front of a bunch of yoga students. They are their own teachers. The purpose of yoga is to get into a deeper relationship with yourself. Or more correctly: with your Self. Your Self is your teacher. Listen to your Self.

Me and Erich at Kripalu, April 2011

And how the heck do you do that? Where do you even start? Well, I would highly recommend that you have a listen to Erich Schiffmann sometime. I've practiced with him, read his book, and gave him a big hug. If you've got 15 minutes of uninterrupted time available, then do yourself a favour. Let Erich take you on a tour inside: Erich leads you in meditation.

Peace.

Finding a Path After Bikram's

Historical Posting. Originally written on January 29, 2011.
This post was written about nine months after I had graduated from my teacher training program. I was teaching occasionally, and the very force of teaching was stirring things up. The beginning of my own personal practice was arising.

I sit looking at about five linear feet of yoga books, beautifully sorted and presented like personal treasures. Some of these are absolute wonders, full of wisdom. I keep buying these damn things, hoping to absorb what they have to offer.

I know that in the end, it’s all about practice, about making things real for you. “All is coming. Just practice. All is coming.” I believe this is the essence of Pattabhi Jois’s teachings. Just practice, everything will flow from there. There’s only so much book-learning that a person can undertake. I can see why Jnana Yoga is regarded as the most difficult of the paths of yoga (the philosophical or intellectual approach to spiritual evolution).

I read and read and read, and yet only so much sticks and even less comes through in my teachings. Indeed, I simply need to teach more. Teaching has become part of my practice, and I don’t do it often enough. Either that or I’m simply being impatient.

My teaching and my practice are trying to get closer to one another. I’ve relied on the Bikram’s practice for the past seven and a half years, and yet my teachings are outside the rigid framework that Bikram prescribes. I need to bring my practice closer to my teachings. I need to practice what I teach and teach what I practice.

Bikram, as much as I love it, is not my path. I find it too constraining, too limiting, too dogmatic. I’m always struck by how Bikram’s teachers so staunchly defend the man and the practice. There’s so much more to yoga than the rantings of a self-obsessed body-builder. He can only take you so far along the path of Hatha yoga, and then he needs to be abandoned. I have to forge my own path.

Paths at Kripalu, 2011

My own path ... there’s the key. I have to get amazingly good at “Guy Friswell Yoga” before I die. I need to make my practice my own. I’ve been looking out there for my path, for my teacher, when it’s always been right here, with me. The saying is that “when the student is ready, the teacher will appear”, or some such thing. But perhaps the teacher is me.

This is my life, my practice, my path. I’m the author of this story, the director of this play, and the main character. I will and must keep manifesting this truth.

Bikram Practice is Still Yoga Practice

Historical Posting. Originally written on February 17, 2010.
This particular post was written near the beginning of my initial foray beyond Bikram's Yoga. I was in a yoga teacher training program, and I was trying to explain to all of the other non-Bikram trainees why it was that I did Bikram's Yoga. Things have shifted since then, but I think it's important to  truthfully see where I've come from.

So, I’ve been practicing Bikram’s yoga for almost seven years. I’ve really enjoyed it. It has acted as a core to my practice, as a springboard to other practices and as the roots for an enduring personal passion of all things “yoga”.  It has provided me with a community of like-minded practitioners and wealth of new friendships. It has hurt me on a few occasions. And I most certainly have grown as a person because of it. I’ve met Bikram, practiced with him, his wife and his most senior teachers, read his books, and immersed myself in the odd world-wide cult of personality that surrounds the man. I’ve even participated in “yoga competitions” for goodness sake! I’ve seen other people pushing themselves in ways that are clearly hurtful and well beyond their limits. I’ve seen people completely transformed through their dedication to the practice. I’ve seen great teachers and appallingly bad teachers, and noticed the effect that these have had on other people. I’ve taken it all in, and I’ve stuck with it for a very long time. Am I just an idiot, or is there something of merit here?

Me and Bikram, July 2009, Palm Desert

Looking at the practice from the outside in – never mind all of the negative press – it seems to be almost anti-yoga. Teachers have a set dialogue and are told to insist on no (or very few) modifications or adjustments. It’s “my way or the highway” according to Bikram.  So here’s the dynamic: the quirky words and phrasing of an egomaniacal Indian yogi, embodied in a teacher that has received nine weeks of intensive 24*7 training (brainwashing), a hot room, a bunch of mirrors, and a bunch of flabby, self-centred North Americans with unruly egos gazing at their glorious selves in the mirrors! It is one of the purest forms of entertainment that I have ever seen!

Yet all I can talk about, in the end, is me and my experience. My practice has become a 90-minute moving meditation ... every moment is an integral part of the whole. I have found the strength to transcend the chatter, the bad press, the type “A” egos, the heat ... all of it ... and go deep within. This translates very well off of the mat as I re-enter the day-to-day world of chatter, negativity, selfishness, distraction and decay that is our contemporary lifestyle.

What’s my message? In the end, a yoga practice is a personal practice. However and wherever you find it, it may be inexplicable to others, but hey, if it works for you, that’s all that matters! Bikram’s works for me.
 

The Holy Sutras of Bikram Choudhury

I sometimes wonder what the fate of the Bikram's community, family and culture will be when he finally passes on.

Yes, even he will die, just like the rest of us. He is the domineering figurehead of a huge yoga empire, and yet no heir is apparent, at least not that I'm aware of. Will his system persist? Or will it implode and fracture in the absence of his iron fist? I have my theories.

The reverence given today to the Holy Yoga Sutras of Bikram Choudhury (a.k.a. "the Dialogue") will likely result in it becoming a revered relic handed down from generation to generation, never changing in its form -- just like the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. Imagine a future dark ages with it's own oral traditions and how perhaps this is all that remains of our culture.

Oh, the sacred canon of the Dialogue! It is held as scripture, with every phrase subject to just as much analysis as applied to the original Yoga Sutras. Go to any Bikram class or workshop and you'll hear the words being replayed and discussed over and over, as if you are simply not hearing their deep hidden message. Yes, the infamous and misinterpreted "lock the knee", the inscrutable "pulling is the object of stretching", and the inane "Japanese ham sandwich". Are these to become the future equivalent of "yoga chitta vritti nirodha" (Patanjali 1-2: yoga is the cessation of the fluctuations of mind)?

Silliness? Maybe not. Why? Do a search on "Bikram Dialogue" and see if you can find a free download. Not likely, but you can view it and buy it if you like (for example here: Buy Your Copy of the Dialogue). It's life does not depend on our fragile cloud of the Internet. The Dialogue will survive any future cataclysm precisely because it is an oral tradition. Not to mention that those Bikram's yogis are tough as nails and are amongst the most likely to survive.

All hail the Holy Yoga Sutras of Bikram Choudhury!

It Begins with Downward Dog

Here I am in Downward Dog. Going through the pre-launch checklist, again.
My hands are forward, shoulder width apart, fingers spread wide with the eyes of my elbows pointing towards each other. My feet are hip width apart, pointing forward with my heels moving toward the ground. My weight is even between front and back. I’m drawing energy in and up with my hands (hasta bandha) and feet (pada bandha). There’s a looseness and openness in my arms, with my scapula drawing towards each other and down my mid back. I breathe calmly and deeply with a closed mouth engaging Ujjayi breathing through a slight constriction of my throat while inhaling and exhaling. There’s a lot going on, but I’ve been here often and the rightness of it all just fits together.

The teacher’s words creep in from outside announcing that it’s time to move, to jump toward the top of my mat and land between my hands. My mind sees and feels the image of a piked handstand followed by a slow, controlled landing – the elusive and magical “float” from the back of the mat to the front.

I bring my feet together, root my hands more firmly into the earth and look forward. On an inhale I bend my knees and allow the breath to flow fully into my relaxed pelvic diaphragm. Exhaling, a wave of energy moves up from the floor, pulls my pelvis into Mula bandha and engages my psoas muscles while I kick my feet from the mat, hips rising higher. My mind grasps at the magical floating image while I land in what seems just a pathetic little hop with an all-too-audible thump, my feet well short of my hands.

Disappointment and frustration arise, coloured by an even deeper desire for external validation. I see my striving for my teacher’s adoration. I sigh. Let it go, maybe next time. Quit striving. It will happen. Someday.

And just as suddenly the realization arises that the thing holding me back is not my form, but my mind. I need to quit trying so hard. The magical and elusive float isn’t the yoga, rather it’s everything surrounding and leading up to the thumping non-float that’s the real yoga. Yoga is a process of self-inquiry and this downward dog inquiry has yielded a monstrous gem: my ego strives to define itself through external achievements and will send waves of disappointment as its messenger when I’m unable to deliver. And if I identify with the disappointment, I feed my ego even more. “Clearly I exist” says the ego. It is cunning and can win in many ways.

But this is really the end of the story, not the beginning. The practice of yoga is ever unfolding. Let me go back to the beginning, or at least an earlier point in time.

There are no downward dogs in Bikram's yoga.