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My friend Rusty had a recent post where he was looking for recommendations for “music to do Ashtanga to“.

Traditionally, Ashtanga is without music. And the mention of music and Ashtanga in some circles will certainly elicit a look of distain if not an outright objection. So, let’s call it Ashtanga based vinyasa. Or just vinyasa – except you do the primary series postures, hold bhandas and breathe the Ujjayi breath.

Ok, if I was outside next to an ocean, I might feel differently about not using music. The ocean would provide a nice rhythm. But most of the time, I like music in the practice. Maybe music makes me feel good already and, mixed with a vinyasa practice, combines for the ultimate “natural high”.

5 minutes out of the experience, I recommend Leon Parker. The album Awakening is a mix mash of percussion and bass that keeps a pleasant, groovy pulse. It’s an unusual, “world’ music-ish sound. A friend of a friend gave it to me in Memphis several years ago and it’s been a favorite ever since.

After what seems like an eternity of very light yoga and delicate stretching, I finally jumped back into the primary series of Ashtanga and blazed through the standing postures. I kept in mind the brief time I spent with Pattabhi Jois and how quickly he leads his class through the practice. And for the first time in months, it was fun!

For those who don’t know (I have to at least feign readership!), Ashtanga yoga synchronizes breathing with movement. The series of postures moves rather quickly and keeps a sustained pace. Initially, it is overwhelming and extremely difficult to do. The practice quickly raises the body’s temperature and, if you’re not accustomed to sweating, it can be quite a surprise. But it feels great!

Because it is so challenging, the Ashtanga series can create problems if not approached with respect and awareness. I have witnessed many avid practitioners injure a shoulder, wrist, neck, back or knee just by doing the prescribed series of postures (myself included). Most of them were over 30 years old. Sometimes a teacher pushed them beyond their limit. Often they pushed themselves beyond the point of stretching. In all cases, the effort exerted to “achieve” a posture was greater than their body’s ability to comply.

Guruji began his practice at an early age so it makes sense that his yoga studies included a more robust physical component. His teacher, Krishnamacharya, taught others different approaches to yoga that were less physically demanding. Krishnamacharya’s son, T.K.V. Desikachar, studied with his father for over 30 years and approaches yoga completely different than the Ashtanga system. It is easy to speculate that Krishnamacharya taught individuals based on their needs as a student of yoga. Age was likely a factor, as was health.

Many Ashtanga devotees appear to be limiting themselves when they delcare their belief that the practice is ‘perfect’. I have to ask, was Krishnamacharya only perfect when he taught Guruji, or are all the forms of yoga perfect as well? I would go with the latter arguement.

My favorite Ashtanga teacher, and the first Westerner to study the full Ashtanga series with Pattabhi Jois, David Williams, lays it out simply: “If yoga is not the second best feeling thing in your life, you’re missing an opportunity.” David just happened to show up at Atlanta Yoga at a time when my aching back was making me question my ability to practice Ashtanga. David reeled me back to the basics – bhandas and breath, and emphasized the wholistic approach to yoga that is about healing. I probably would have given up years ago if I didn’t get a dose of his wisdom just in time. “If you were to go up to one of these old, grey bearded Yogis in India, one of those wise men living in a cave, and you told him that you hurt yourself doing yoga, he would think you were crazy.” Amen.

I had orthoscopic surgery 2 weeks ago and I am managing well. I ride a “spinner bike” every morning and do some yoga afterwards. My range of motion is still compromised and there remains some soreness. But all in all, I can’t complain so far. Hopefully my knee will mend well.

Since I played college football (and by “play” I mean running tailback against the 1st team defense every day and mostly watching the game from the sidelines on Saturday), most of my friends assume that the knee was an old injury related to the “collision sport”, as the late Vince Lombardy called it. But it wasn’t football. It wasn’t rugby. And it wasn’t baseball either. It was yoga.

At this point in my life, I have been practicing Ashtanga Yoga for over 8 years. And I began that journey like it was a sport. Ashtanga is very difficult. And like any good athlete, I wanted to “win” and be “good at yoga”. That was silly. It has taken me years to not only realize, but to practice yoga as a “letting go” instead of an “acquisition”. A teacher once told me, “anyone can work hard, we do it every day – but can you listen and take a step back?” Another said, “the smartest yogi is the one who knows how much yoga to do for that day.” “If it hurts, you’re doing it wrong.” That message did not reach me in time.

When I first learned to snow ski, I couldn’t gain enough speed to hurt myself. When I became a better skiier, that’s when it became dangerous. When I started practing Second Series, I was probably ambitious, but ready nonetheless. Second series Ashtanga requires open hips in order to get into some of the foot-behind-the-head postures. I had a regular practice and when my body was warm, I could move into most postures with relative ease. And it was almost easy when I entered Vatayanasana. Here is a pic via Yogaclub

Notice the right knee is on the ground and the right foot is in lotus position. Beyond the delicate foot/knee position, much balance is at play. It doesn’t take much to slip. And a small slip changed things considerably. So, what is yoga for, anyway? What did I learn?

I teach it to my students and it’s a lesson that I apparently needed to learn again – Yoga is about using your breath to create space between your last thought and your next thought. And when I practice, I feel better, I’m in a better mood, I am nicer, more grateful and a less cranky person. And if I practice with a non-competitive, non-aggressive, compassionate attitude, I won’t get hurt doing something designed to heal.

David Williams puts it nicely: “If you go to India and go to one of these ancient caves where there is an old, bearded yogi inside, and you tell them that you hurt yourself doing yoga, he would think you were crazy.” He would certainly ask, ‘how in the world could you do that?’” Indeed.