Coffee Habits, Stuffed Octopi, and Dedication: A Teenager’s Guide to Not Making Fun of Chair Yoga
Effort may be the foundation of practice, but that practice must be channeled appropriately to achieve the goal. That aesthetically-pleasing motivational poster you put up on your wall might state: “Practice Makes Perfect,” (Perhaps in a horrifically tacky handwriting font laid over a high-contrast photo of a profusely sweating athlete.Sound familiar?) But, in reality, practice simply makes you a Practitioner. Only Perfect Practice could make one “Perfect.” In the Yoga sutras, Patanjali defines the three essential aspects of effective practice. First, that one’s practice should be uninterrupted. It must be daily. There are no weekends. There are no vacations. There are no days for “Ugh but it is just so uninspiringly icky outside,” or “I can’t! I’m hungover and I stepped on and broke my sunglasses last week,” or even “Today isn’t going to work- I’m already running late because my feet keep getting stuck in the rips of my jeans.” Whatever you deem your practice - be it yoga, a musical instrument, nagging your husband about not cleaning the lint screen in the dryer, or always being that annoyingly chirpy co worker who’s always first in the office and greets everyone with “Hey Sunshine!” - that practice must become a fundamental pillar of your existence - like eating, drinking, and sleeping. Secondly, practice must continue over an extended period. We must be in this for the long haul if we are to be successful. If we are looking to find a quick fix, we will only become frustrated as we constantly encounter dissatisfaction.
Many of us, at some point, have set out to acquire a six-pack, an effortless handstand, fluency in French, an intimate knowledge of up-and-coming alternative rock bands, or some other quality that looks great in a dating-app profile. Similarly, I’d venture to say that, besides some French curse words that you pull out every now and then as a party trick, each one of us has learned that, shockingly, these attractive attributes don’t appear instantly with the doing of one push-up or sun salutation, or with the download of some app you won’t open again until someday two years from now when you’re bored on the subway. Lastly, we know that that practice is to be performed with respect, love, and devotion - the teachings of Patanjali place great emphasis on the congruence of one’s thoughts, words, and deeds. Showing up on your mat at sunrise every morning appears diligent and disciplined, but if you’re muttering words mommy wouldn’t be proud of (Va te faire enculer!) during Downward Dog and spending Warrior 1 staring at the clock, begging the hands to rotate faster, then your intention is ingenuine - almost phony. You might as well have let yourself sleep in and pick up an extra-large frappe-mocha-whatever-chino from Starbucks.
abhyasa vairagyabhyam tat nirodhah
1.12 These thought patterns (vrittis) are mastered (nirodhah, regulated, coordinated, controlled, stilled, quieted) through practice (abhyasa) and non-attachment (vairagya).
Sutra 1.12 introduces two essential elements of yogic philosophy: abhyasa (persistent effort) and vairagya (non-attachment to the result). When practiced together, they can serve as a spiritual and practical roadmap for navigating almost every aspect of life with greater equanimity.
sah tu dirgha kala nairantaira satkara asevitah dridha bhumih
1.14 When that practice is done for a long time, without a break, and with sincere devotion, then the practice becomes a firmly rooted, stable and solid foundation.
Practice becomes firmly established when it has been cultivated uninterruptedly, and with devotion, over a prolonged period of time.
Why are these three components so important?
It’s time for an outfit change. Let’s pause for a moment and trade our sweat-wicking, curve-enhancing Lululemons for an Ancient Greek chiton. Although he was no yogi, Aristotle teaches a principle surprisingly consistent with the idea of devoted daily practice: “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.” Our personality is made up of our habit patterns, and habit patterns are formed by our repeated actions. If we return this to the words of Patanjali’s sutras, when these habits are refined, they are deposited in the chitti, or the mindfield, in the form of subtle impressions called samskaras. Similar samskaras join together to form so-called vasanas, groups of impressions big enough and strong enough to take over our mind and force us into action or inaction. Vasanas come from deep within, and they motivate us to think, speak, and act in a manner that is congruent with them. Stop looking at me like that - Vrikshasana may cross your mind less often than pop hits from 2002, but this applies to you too. We all have that friend who decides on some Monday morning that she’s “really going to get in shape this time,” takes 7 pilates classes in a row, comes home, collapses on the couch, and doesn’t touch her workout shorts for three months. Re-attempt, rinse, repeat. And don’t think I’m avoiding calling myself out on this - you haven’t seen me be productive until you’ve witnessed an overnight transformation into an expert on fourteenth-century Spanish literature (true story) some foggy Midterms’ Eve. Especially with a goal as grand as enlightenment, the one who shows up diligently, everyday, in some way, and really means it will, in the end, go further than a once-a-year Hercules spurred by the occasional Pinterest quote or Facebook post from a successful ex.
I first encountered the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali several years ago, when I first began practicing. At this time, as a highly competitive athlete who had had a 5 hour/day training schedule for many years, and one of those annoying kids who complained when they got 98’s on exams (the world has my most sincere apologies,) the importance of a dedicated, consistent, daily practice resonated very much with me. I loved the effects yoga practice had on my body and mind, and I was certain that there was nothing that could keep me from my daily practice. I am Masha the callous-palmed! Ruler over a world of Youtuber-esque morning routines and orgasmically organized bullet journals! What could possibly stop me from setting down my tea and sitting down on my mat every day? Unfortunately, just about two years ago, at sixteen, I was forced to radically reconsider my views. After a horrible incident landed me in a hospital and seriously limited my mobility, my tradition of starting and ending my days with practicing the skills most important to me came to an end REALLY quickly- essentially, over the course of a fifteen minute ride in an ambulance.
I honestly have no words that can express the amount of patience my parents must have. How on earth they’ve managed to tolerate me - from using up three jars of coffee to make “ancient” brown paper (and spilling a good part of them all over the goddamn kitchen) to picking up my cellphone to ask “Masha! Some contact named “Not My Drug Dealer” is calling - is now a good time to talk for you?”- I don’t know how they do it. Although, I probably ought to maintain that same level of respect for the nurses who cared for me during my time at the hospital. Let’s just say this girl was, at first, not a very patient Patient. I doubt too many days went by without someone hearing “No, we can’t go to the window again! Yes I know there’s a sunset! There’s one every evening!” and I’d be lying if I denied the day when I honestly begged someone to listen to a 5-hour podcast about the Mongols so I could talk to them about it. In some attempt to keep my butt in my bed, my parents brought my book of Yoga Sutras to me to the hospital: I certainly had way too much time to read, think, and have a lovely teenage existential crisis. However, I began to despise Patanjali’s insistence on the importance of daily practice with an burning passion. When you’re in a wheelchair and you try to tell your nurse that you want to take full wheel, all you get in return is a“Look” and a “Sweetie, no.” - even if you point out how exceptionally lovely her hair looks that day. At this point, I’d been practicing for a little over three years, but I certainly wouldn’t be able to “find my way to downward facing dog” for a few months. It seemed that this centuries-old text that I’d long-cherished was telling me that my path was over, That I was stuck More stuck than that piece of toilet paper is to your shoe when you walk in to meet a major client.
It was at this point that I sat down and began to consider the 8 Limbs of Yoga in greater depth for the first time, and was amazed at how much comfort they brought to me - shockingly, more comfort than my other eight-limbed option: a rather beaten-up (sorry, well-loved,) stuffed octopus whose name oscillated between “Oliver,” and “Mr.Snuffles” depending upon which side of the unit he ended up on.. My yoga mat may have been on a shelf in the studio I call home, rolled up and lonely, and I was too afraid of setting off some heart rate monitor and scaring the scrubs off some poor nurse to practice Pranayama, But, the first two limbs, the Yamas and Niyamas, were accessible to me at all times. Practicing nonviolence? Avoiding coveting possessions incessantly? Exercising discipline, in any aspect, really? Trying with all your might and main to wait until no-one’s around before scaling that fire escape? One is doing yoga. In fact, one’s conduct, intent, and mentality may be more essential to qualifying “Yoga” practice than having access to the deepest backbend. In theory, there’s nothing yogic about the most Instagram-Worthy King Pigeon if it’s performed by someone who is equally open to stealing, lying, hurting others, or removing the bottoms from plastic garbage cans and putting them over fire hydrants to get free parking. In theory, there is more Yoga practiced in a day when you donate clothes you never wear (sometimes those unique, artsy thrift-store steals look a lot less unique and a lot less artsy at home,) and have a staring contest with the box of cookies on your kitchen table than in a day where you make 6:30 Mysore and then pass off organic bok choy as regular at self checkout at Whole Foods.
If one understands that the ultimate goal of Yoga is to achieve a deeper self understanding and a stillness of the mind, and is able to see just how many paths and small steps along them can bring one there, one sees that one can practice Yoga anytime and anywhere - be it in a wheelchair, while bedridden, overwhelmed with work or kids or family, while stuck on a plane, in a waiting room, or without the financial means to attend yoga classes. A certain 16 year old happened to stumble upon a DVD titled “Heart Healthy Chair Yoga” while scrambling around looking for a paintbrush. I’d be lying if I told you that I proceeded to smile brightly, clutch the disk to my chest, and enthusiastically run off to pester someone to help me turn it on. And, in Yoga, lying is one of those things you’re not supposed to do (even if it’s the story about some horrific train delay that you’re telling for the 6th time this week.) Instead, it was days before I could convince myself to look at the smiling instructor with anything but irritation - her closed eyes, relaxed face, svelte physique and pink sports bra made my blood boil, even in a freezing hospital hallway. If I told you that I almost shoved the DVD behind a bookshelf because I deemed myself too fit and disciplined for it, it would be as shamefully true as the fact that I just paid $3.75 for mediocre coffee I am aggressively apathetic toward. It took weeks for me to open my mind to something even more mind blowing than some fun fact on a Snapple cap : that I could, in some way, show up to Yoga every day, even if it just meant taking a few deep breaths and trying to still a million-mile-per-hour mind.
It’s really tempting to take on a dramatic, life-altering plan for a rigid daily practice. I can’t count how many times I’ve told my parents that I’d be fully capable of walking a dog 5 times a day. Playing a guitar for three hours the day you bring it home from Guitar Center is effortless. Planning to do the same the next day is easy as well. Actually practicing three hours the day after… maybe not so much. We are what we repeatedly do, and our “practice,” whatever it is, is what we do every day. On Mondays when the sun is shining and we have (gasp,) cereal, milk AND clean dishes in our kitchen, it’s easy to believe that we can do everything someday. But, a true practice is just as much a part of you as any of your habits-even that deplorable love for hip hot beverages. It will never make me “perfect,” but for an imperfect practitioner, the perfect practice isn’t a plan to do everything some day, but is something you can do every day.
