Picky Details in Risky Positions

Over ten years ago,  one of my colleagues published a blog entry about the difficulties she faced as a yoga studio owner. I thought her entry was honest, insightful, and thought-provoking. She spoke about costs, Groupons, compensation, etc. She didn’t saying anything all that new for  anyone in the yoga business, but she pulled her observations together well and painted an intelligent picture of the challenges people were facing in the profession.  I admired this woman as a person, a practitioner, and teacher. I still do. I reposted her entry hoping to amplify her message and lend my support.  

So far, so good right?

Another  friend who was peripherally involved with the yoga community of which I was a part at the time, but more ensconced in the world of fitness than yoga,  wrote a very strongly-worded comment to my repost. She remarked that, while the perspective shared in the article was valid for the teacher who posted it, the entry  lacked sensitivity to how long-time students who have been supporting the studio for many years might feel reading about all the “not-enoughness” this studio owner was experiencing. Not enough teachers, not enough students, not enough money, not enough appreciation, not enough understanding, and so on. 

And, look, they are both right. Struggle is hard. If struggle was easy, it would be called something else.  And, for the record,  I believe shared struggle is a key to community, connection, and deepening the bonds of intimacy over time. I don’t fault the first person for writing the blog entry. However, the second person— with a bit more of an outside perspective— pointed out a significant blindspot with which I was operating. I had fallen into the trap of criticizing and complaining about the industry in which I was making my living, the students who were paying for classes and trainings, and the general state of modern yoga, with no regard for a perspective beyond my own viewpoint as a teacher and leader in the very thing I was ranting about. 

So, uh. Yep. True story. 

And let’s be clear, this person  did not point out my blindspot gently or with a lot of sugar to make the medicine go down. Her words stung and I felt ashamed.  That being said, I took her feedback to heart and began changing how I participated in the larger world of yoga commentary. I looked for ways to create and contribute, rather than to criticize and complain. And, over time, I saw that there was as much going well inside our world of yoga asana as there was going poorly. 

I have been in yoga asana classes since 1991. In the entire time I have been part of this shape-making game of asana,  someone has called it broken. And truth be told, yoga has been broken in some profound ways. Power abuses and  exploitation of all kinds are peppered throughout every large school or community.  It’s a pretty big list worth working through. Additionally, a boatload of small annoying tendencies and unfortunate trends continue to assert themselves into the dominant narrative. So, there is that. As I so often say, I am not new and I am not blind so I see things.

At any rate, from what I can tell, no one that I know thinks they themselves are ruining yoga. And, apart from a few soulless or narcissistic people who must be teaching, most teachers and students I know are sincerely hoping to help people, even if it’s a bit mashed up with their personal issues.  I mean, who comes to yoga because they have their shit all sorted out? A few unicorns here and there, but most of us come with plenty of work to do. I know I did. And, I am still working.

Years ago, I was teaching a workshop at an alignment-oriented studio. On the lunch break, the teachers were gossiping about a new flow studio that opened up down the street. The people at this new studio didn’t do “real” yoga. When they looked at me for my agreement, I asked them, “How many of you play music in your classes?” All of the teachers raised their hands. I told them that my teachers would say that none of them taught “real yoga” because they played music in their classes. Of course, my teachers thought that I was watering things down because I wasn’t certified in their system and I liked to do other things such as ride bikes and go hiking. And, my teacher’s teachers in India were not happy with the way anyone in America was practicing or teaching. But even my teacher’s teacher over in India was criticized for using props or for not centering meditation in his yoga method.

 And so on. 

(And, really, please don’t leave me any comments about music or not, props or not, etc. I am illustrating a point, not debating specifics.) I am saying that, from what I can tell, none of think we are ruining yoga. I know that I don’t think it is me. Of course, truth be told, I am playing my part.  I am white woman earning a living in and through the  yoga industrial complex. Maybe I should start calling my classes Stretching in Sanskrit or  Consciousness Exercises in Cute Clothes or Picky Details in Risky Positions, instead of yoga.  (Just brainstorming here, don’t mind me.)

All right, enough from me today. 

Okay, one last thing, which is really the moral of the story.

For all the things wrong, some of the finest people I know are my yoga friends, colleagues, and students. Time again, I see studios of all styles create sanctuaries of healing for people to move, breathe, and connect to themselves and each other in the midst of their lives. I am interested in serving that truth. Looking at problems in the name of moving toward greater possibility is the necessary work of evolution. Criticizing and complaining kept me blind to the beauty of the practice I loved, the work I was doing, and rendered me unable to recognize the many ways my contributions were appreciated and valued by my students and community. 

All right, more soon. Gotta go make some shapes with some people I love. 

Also, March classes are for sale in the Shop!