I started practicing ashtanga yoga unaware of the rich tradition I had suddenly stepped into. Like a river, ashtanga had been floating all around me when I put my toes in to test the waters. Like the ocean, those waters ran deep. This was yoga, but nothing like the yoga I had been accustomed to practicing. Soon enough, I came to recognize ashtanga as an elite practice, and it suited me well with my athletic bent. Maybe too well. I became obsessed, which seems to run counter to the nature of yoga, but, then not at all counter to the nature of being imperfect and human. While I would naturally prefer to describe my ongoing ashtanga practice entirely in terms of devotion and loyalty and steady advancement, now, six years later, I can also say that I have experienced my share of drama and disillusion and disappointment. Of course, the late Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, the father of ashtanga yoga, would say that all of this is going as planned. I am where I am meant to be. "Practice and al...
"Life so far doesn't have any other name but breath and light, wind and rain." Mary Oliver