Playing the Edges
- Yoga & The Athlete
by Ian Jackson, in Reference to Joel Kramer
I was sitting on the floor, gingerly testing
a sore hamstring. I had hurt it the night before
in my eagerness to be at a peak of flexibility
for a long-awaited yoga workshop. The teacher,
Joel Kramer,
was reputed to be one of the most adept hatha
yogis in the world. Considering the focus of his
discussion, it was very timely for me. While listening
to him, I was aware of the sore leg, and that
I had started yoga to avoid injuries. As he began
his presentation, I immediately liked him. He
looked around the room as he spoke. His natural
and open eye contact made me feel part of a personal
conversation with him rather than a student listening
to a teacher.
I would like to introduce you to a way
of doing yoga that may be different from what
you are used to, he said.
In order to be sure that yoga does not
become mere calisthenics, there must be a certain
quality of awareness, of mind. Without this, there
is no yoga. The focal point is not the gaining
of any ends or results, but rather the quality
of awareness in the doing.
I thought about the focal point of my yoga practice
since studying with Iyengar and Rishi. Although
the sensuality of the stretching was still there,
the structure of the asanas had become more important.
I had not wanted to admit it to myself, but I
had been feeling very discouraged by the great
gulf between what I was supposed to be doing with
my body and what I was capable of doing. Sometimes,
my practice had felt like work instead of play.
People starting into yoga often get the
idea that it is the achievement of certain kinds
of flexibility which opens up energy centers.
And that is true, to an extent. For me, flexibility
comes only as a byproduct of exploring areas of
tightness. Ambition tends to make us tighter.
Striving for flexibility can bring flexibility
to a certain degree, but in the long run it is
detrimental to the total well-being of the person.
As soon as we drop the ambition and get into exploring
our tightness, the conflict between what we are
and what we want to be dissolves, and that brings
a physiological relaxation.
I thought back to my racing ambitions, and the
havoc they had wrought in my life. Yoga had somehow
seemed inherently safe, so totally out of
contact with the competitive spirit that it was
a guardian against the excesses of ambition. Now
I wasn't so sure about that any more. In all honesty,
I had to admit that I had brought the competitive
spirit into striving for perfection in the asanas.
In spite of warnings from Iyengar and Rishi, I
was doing my yoga with a striving mind instead
of a receptive body.
If you approach your yoga as a way of tuning
into your body/ mind feedback system, you can
very quickly learn to be your own teacher. Teachers
come and teachers go, but fundamentally one is
always with oneself. You must not accept me as
an authority just because I have a certain way
with words and certain levels of flexibility.
Take what you can from my presentation to open
up doors for your own inner exploration. You are
never really in touch with yoga until you learn
to do it on your own. Teachers are useful guideposts,
but if you accept a teacher as an authority and
obey blindly, that puts you out of touch with
yourself.
I knew what he said was fundamentally true. For
many months now, I had been going to Felicity's
class or to a teacher training session at least
once a week. Regular feedback from a teacher kept
my practice from becoming sloppy. There seemed
to be more to learn all the time, a steady progression
into ever finer precision of structural adjustment.
But in spite of these advantages, I much preferred
practicing yoga alone, choosing my own pace and
my own sequence of asanas. I knew that outside
guidance had helped me tremendously, but perhaps
I was now ready for more independence.
In my yoga, the breath is the controlling
factor, the inhalations and the exhalations. Beginners
usually try to do the asanas with the mind. They
have in mind an image of the positions they want
to get their bodies into, and they try to force
it.
How well that described my own beginnings with
Hittlemans book! I recalled the agony I
had senselessly endured in trying to reach what
I thought was the proper body position.
What you will see is not the way I work
when I am alone. Usually, I stay with each pose
longer, and my breathing becomes much deeper and
slower. There is nothing magical about the degree
of flexibility I have attained. It came naturally
as I continued to play the edges over the years.
As the edges got further out, I had to start using
these advanced and intricate poses. The easy poses
simply were nowhere near my edge anymore.
One of the secrets of continued exploration,
especially as you get very flexible, is always
to spend a few breaths away from the edge. Even
though you know you have the flexibility to hit
it hard, don't. Begin at the beginning every day;
approach the edge slowly, with the breath.
And with this Kramer cut short his introductory
remarks. As he took off his shirt and pants, he
seemed already to be internalizing, to be withdrawing
into his body awareness. He was wearing brief
swim trunks, and although his muscles were not
bulky they were extraordinarily well defined.
His movements had that relaxed fluidity that I
have come to associate with all people who have
been into hatha yoga for some time. He began.with
the headstand, breathing deeply and evenly as
he moved into it. From the basic headstand, he
moved through a cycle of variations, twisting
his body to one side and the other, then folding
his legs into the lotus pose and twisting again.
His breath grew steadily deeper, and it became
obvious what he meant when he said that he let
the breath control rather than the brain. It was
his breathing that moved him. When twisting, for
instance, he would go a little distance on the
exhalation, hold on the inhalation, then move
deeper into the twist on the next exhalation.
Using this method, he began to do fantastic things
with his body, working into poses that I had only
seen photos of up till that time. There was a
quality of great power and grace in his every
movement. He executed the most difficult and intricate
poses with consummate ease. As I watched him,
I sensed that he was letting himself be moved,
rather than exerting the effort to control. Seeing
his demonstration tied it all together for me.
When the mind is controlling, there is always
a gap between what you are doing and what you
want to be doing. The mind has an image of the
perfected position, or a memory of yesterday's
levels of flexibility or whatever. And it finds
the gap between the image and the reality disturbing.
It gets anxious, and that anxiety is physical
- a bind in the tissue, a blockage of energy.
If you allow the breath to be the controlling
factor, there is no gap. Then there is a total
movement of energy which is extraordinarily efficient.
And the energy is not dissipated in the push to
get past the edges of your tightness, but it enters
into the exploration of the edges.
"When you are working in an asana, your
edges, or limits, reveal themselves to you in
the sensations of stretch in the muscles and joints.
You have to tune into body/mind feedback to play
the edges with awareness. Playing your edges elicits
a quality of attention which places you in the
living instant. This is the essence of yoga."
I tried to remember the quality of awareness
in my recent practice, but I couldn't really be
sure about it. I was not even sure if last night's
practice had been alive and aware. My sore hamstring
suggested that striving for perfection had deadened
it.
Yoga is self-exploration. It's a way of
learning about yourself. Learning and exploring
take energy. If while actually doing yoga you
are comparing yourself with others, or with your
idea of the perfect posture, or with anything
else, the energy you devote to comparison is lost
from yoga.
We have been conditioned to be accomplishment
oriented, Kramer continued. But to
be accomplishment oriented in yoga is to remove
the energy from the process. It's the doing of
the yoga that's got to turn you on. If achieving
certain levels of flexibility turns you on, then
you're going to find yourself aiming at them.
The paradox is that the more you are interested
in the goals, and the less in the doing, the less
accomplishments come. The less you are interested
in them, the more they come.
I thought back to my running, and how I had amazed
myself in racing time after time. I remembered
how easy running, for the sheer joy of it, had
led to marathon times that I simply couldn't believe.
And I remembered how everything had turned sour:
when, having tasted success as an accidental byproduct
of doing something I loved, I began to get greedy
for more, and to grasp for it.
"For me, the doing of yoga is learning how
really to tune into the feedbacks, to the energy.
In a very real sense, yoga for me is play. It
is playing with oneself in a very intimate and
direct way. And, as is the case with all play,
yoga doesn't take any effort. This might be hard
to grasp at first, but you see it whenever you
watch a child playing. A child at play expends
an enormous amount of energy, but no effort. Yoga
is adult play, and, like child's play, it involves
a great amount of energy, but no effort."
I thought back to my best marathon, and the uncanny
feeling of just sitting back for a free ride and
paying attention simply to keeping the running
body in trim. I spent all my energy in that race.
I was exhausted when I crossed the finish line.
But the energy seemed to flow through me. All
I had to do was use it economically. I didn't
have to strive to generate it. It came by itself;
the race situation called it out.
"Whenever you force yourself, you're forcing
yourself towards something - a goal, an end, a
result. The end becomes the focal point of attention.
You get trapped in pushing yourself towards that
end, whether it be a completed posture, releasing
a bind in the body, or, more remotely, the ideas
you have about self-improvement, higher consciousness
or enlightenment."
I added to myself "or the desire to
run a sub-2:30 marathon." Everything that
Kramer was saying about yoga applied directly
to my running experience. I had to admit that
I had not fully learned the lesson. My sore hamstring
was painful proof that I was still attached to
striving for goals.
"The effort of goal striving actually works
against us, because it tightens us. As we try
to become something, that very effort actually
clamps the tissue. Part of the learning in yoga
is learning about this, tuning in to when the
mind and body are doing this. The fact of the
matter is that most of us are ambitious, and when
we first begin to do yoga, we bring that ambition
to our yoga. I am not saying one should try to
get rid of ambition, for that is just another
ambition. What I am saying is that when one becomes
alert to the nature of ambition, one sees its
destructive qualities and its binding nature.
When one sees this clearly, ambition becomes less
interesting. Yoga can teach you about this in
a very intimate way, both physically and psychologically.
If this were all that yoga had to offer, I thought,
it would be more than enough to recommend it to
any athlete. With this kind of sensitivity and
awareness, sport becomes play. All energy and
no effort. Tuning in to how effort tightens the
tissues can work on a day to day training basis,
or on a stride by stride racing basis. When effort
comes in, the joyful play of energy goes out.
When force is applied to the body, it becomes
dull.
What Kramer had to say about energy and effort
reinforced my own hard-won insights about the
racing obsession. And as he discussed the psychological
aspects of yoga, he expressed the same ideas that
had occurred to me when I discovered Wilhelm Reich
and Ida Rolf.
There's nothing mysterious about tightening.
It's something you do to yourself, over the years.
All the daily irritations, frustrations and anxieties
accumulate in the muscles, and, as you condition
yourself with habits, they also get etched into
the body.
Most of us take our psychological problems,
put impressive sounding labels on them, and in
one way or another forget about them or make them
unreachable. But if there is a problem in me,
it is in me, in the nerves, in the glands, in
the response repertoire of the body. To learn
about this is to see that the division between
the mind and the body is not real. The mind and
body are not two separate entities, but rather
two aspects of one energy system.
The conditionings, the traumas, the hang-ups,
call them what you will, actually live in you.
They don't live in a name or in a psychology book,
but right in the tissues, in the nerves, in the
musculature, in the way the body holds itself.
You really learn about this in yoga.
I thought back to the emotional patterns touched
off by certain asanas, and I wondered how much
of my growing sense of decisiveness and clarity
was due to the release of emotional problems stored
up in tight muscles. I also thought forward, and
wondered where this release was going to take
me.
Every day brought new surprises. My life already
seemed to be going wildly and beautifully out
of control. The more I shrugged off ideas about
how I should feel and act, the more I expressed
how I actually did feel, the more I appreciated
the free flow of spontaneity and openness.
Kramer's ideas about the spiritual aspect of
yoga also struck a responsive chord in me. The
spiritual aspect had always made me a little uncomfortable,
because I couldn't really get into it. I couldn't
meditate, or at least I couldn't do what I had
been led to believe was meditation. So I got deeply
into my body. When people asked me if I meditated,
I told them, Not in the usual sense, but
I do meditate in the asanas. For me, a heavy three-hour
session is a three-hour meditation on the body.
But I got the impression that no one was buying
my version of meditation. It just wasn't spiritual
enough. I found myself getting defensive about
it. When people kidded me about how much I was
into my body, I'd just laugh and say, Why
not? It's the only home I have.
There is a great deal of confusion about
spirituality in yoga, said Kramer. Most
people who consider themselves spiritual seekers
are looking for greater depth of experience, more
profound insights, higher realms of consciousness.
In short, they want deeper, richer, and if possible,
longer lasting experiences. After we have collected
many of the so-called mundane experiences, like
college, psychotherapy, groups, sex, drugs, the
whole gamut of it, we hear about spirituality
and we say, 'That's for me!' Spirituality is painted
as the experience to end all experiences. That's
quite enticing, you know. But seeking more experience
is just another self-centered activity; no matter
how profound or spiritual the experience is said
to be. Spirituality comes in a different way from
seeking greater depth of experience.
"If you read the great spiritual books of
the world, you find they all say the same thing.
There's really only one place to look, and that's
within, within you. For the universe displays
itself within you. And nobody can do that for
you. Nobody can guide you as deeply within yourself
as you can. Nobody has that inner touch. Nobody
can play your edges for you.
Yoga, spiritually, mentally and physically,
is a way of playing with the edges or frontiers
of one's being. Real adeptness in yoga: lies in
how awarely one plays with the edges. In the body
itself you experience your edge as a special quality
of sensation, generally right before pain. It
is difficult to describe since it is a non-verbal
experience, but it is not difficult to discover
for yourself. The feeling of energy is the key.
By the feeling of pain, I mean discomfort which
the mind seeks to escape. Thus, if you push past
your edge into pain, attention has been removed
from yoga.
Many of us approach yoga like puritans,
he said. "We go under the saying 'no pain,
no gain.' The pain makes us feel that we are doing
something good to ourselves. But real yoga is
not a play with pain. Pain blocks the necessary
quality of attention. If you try to ignore it,
then you are operating out of greed or ambition.
Of course, you can learn from that, because that's
where you pull muscles. You see, greed lives with
you for a while.
Yes, greed was still living with me. I thought
back to the physical breakdown following my long
bout of overtraining. Greed lived with me for
months after that. Greed for goals is basically
the same, in yoga and running.
If your images of what is structurally
correct become goals you strive for, they can
be destructive. This is a difficult point, so
please don't jump to conclusions about what I
mean. Structures can be useful toys to play with.
The danger comes when the toy becomes the final
authority so that one forces oneself to the structure,
ignoring ones edges. This is the stuff of
violence.
To get into any asana is to play with structure,
to some extent. Structures tune you into the feedback
networks. To be involved with hatha yoga is to
be involved with structures. The destructive element
comes in when the structure becomes the goal that
you're shooting for.
Take the image of correct structure in
the headstand, for instance. To try to force yourself
into the correct image is to lose the quality
of exploration. Rather than using an image, I
work with the muscles and bones, and let them
be the guide through feedback. The spine should
be straight in the headstand, not because anyone
says so, but because your body tells you so.
The body tells you through feedback. I
tune into the pressures on the spine. I tune into
the point of contact on my head. I play with gravity
as it works through my body. When my headstand
is weightless, with no strain, then I know it
is right. Only through the process of internal
play, a continuous readjusting, does the body
get a chance to tell you that the spine is straight.
A natural tendency of mind is to get oriented
towards results, goals. I don't think you should
resist this tendency, because resistance is just
another goal. Remain aware of it, and through
that quality of awareness you leave yourself malleable.
For me, the interest is in the inner feel
of how the musculature works and where the greatest
efficiency in the stretch is. If your interest
is the efficiency of the stretch at the instant,
then really there isn't any goal involved. And
when your interest is in the maximum efficiency
of stretch, automatically the proper structures
come. In fact, this is how the structure of the
asanas evolved over the centuries.
I translated this into running terms. If your
interest is in the running itself ("On action
alone by thy interest"), on the rhythm of
the arms and legs, the body carriage, the breathing,
then you are running in the living instant rather
than in some future race.
One of the little tricks of yoga is generally
to do your weak side first. You might find, for
instance, that your triangle pose is much better
on the left side than the right. If you do the
strong side first, you have an unconscious tendency
to try forcing the weak side up to the same standards
of accomplishment. So you push yourself, and as
you push, the muscles clamp down.
If you do the weak side first, it is easier
to devote more energy to it. You get frustrated
when you do it after the strong side, and you
tend to spend less time with it. Moreover, if
you do your weak side first, you can always do
it again after you have done your strong side,
to bring a balance.
We are tempted to go for our strong side
because we have been conditioned to go for accomplishment.
It is un-American not to go for accomplishment,
but it is also un-Indian and un-Chinese too. It's
"But if you strive for accomplishment, then
you tend to ignore pain. Pain can mean many things,
but no matter what it means, you risk pulling
muscles if you try to push past it. You can take
risks if you want to, but why not use the pain
as a sign that your attention is wandering and
your body is complaining. Then you can back off
and begin to play with it.
In some ways it's like a flirtation. It's
like flirting with the edges of oneself. And that
flirtation must have a quality of attention if
it is to open up the tissues. If I'm not right
here - now, if I'm off in some image of what I
want or in stoic endurance of the pain, then I
cut myself off from the exploration which is yoga.
Yoga is learning to play with feeling.
Yoga is feeling. Although the books don't write
it up this way, it is probably the most sensual
activity you can engage in.
Pain can turn yoga into a chore or a discipline
in the destructive meaning of the word. Destructive
discipline is doing stuff you really don't want
to but think you should because you're hungry
for the goal it's supposed to take you to. I think
this kind of discipline is a form of self-abuse.
The root meaning of discipline is to learn.
Simply to learn. To be truly disciplined is to
be totally involved in learning. If your yoga
becomes a chore or a play in pain rather than
an exploration, then you're going to find yourself
not doing it. "I'm not interested in Yoga
as a chore. I'm interested in it as a mode of
play, a really intimate way of playing with oneself.
The whole secret of yoga is just doing it for
the sake of doing it. No goals, no objectives,
no gains, no losses. Once the mind gets into that
perspective, there is an automatic release of
tension.
It's really very simple. You've just got
to dig it. If you don't dig it, it doesnt
happen. That's the way it is. Youve got
to love doing it. And by love I mean a quality
of passion, a quality of abandonment. It is the
doing of it that is the heart of yoga.
Kramer began to prepare for a demonstration of
postures. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he continued
to speak.