Working your edge

Jason writes:

"u recently spoke about how your teacher would talk about 'working your edge'. Do you have new any insights on how that is done in Mysore style since you have now been in Mysore for a while?"

Response:

I remember once when she said that. She had just gotten back from Mysore. She was darker than before. She was wearing a tank top that was supposed to be tight, but she was so fit it almost looked loose. I remember seeing her arms and being in awe with how fit she was. Before class she told us that she was completely inspired--

No, that's not it. That was a later time that she said it.

Guruji was in New York. She was going every day to practice. It was a vinyasa class and beforehand she told us that she was feeling completely inspired by Guruji being in town. We didn't know what that meant at the moment, but as we moved through sun salutes, she mentioned how you do what you need to do to save energy. So we tried not to fidget in the downward dogs. We tried to use an economy of movement in the vinyasas. Some people would drop their knees and sink their hips back in a child's pose to rest in downward dog.

As we clumsily tried to move with grace, she was asking us to analyze what pain is and to find our edge. (It felt like a class full of hippos trying to do yoga.) What could we work through or past? What could we breathe into? What were we capable of? What was the difference between good pain and bad pain?

Sometimes it feels like there is a line in the sand between those who are flexible, strong, those who seem to easily perform the poses without breaking a sweat and those who struggle and pant and sweat and give up and shake. I remember this line was drawn when she asked us to jump from downward dog, through our arms, to a sitting position. I bawked at this. Everyone in the room did except my friend Susan who is one of those ex-dancer, super fit, beautiful and amazing types. My teacher laughed and asked us to watch as she demonstrated a jump through. She was so light and soft as she floated effortlessly though the air, landing in a seated position with her legs straight in front of her. "How do you know that you can't do this?" She was asking. "Find your edge." She kept saying this, "find your edge?" I kept asking myself what that meant.

(Watch the jump backs and jump throughs in this video. For a second, he his hovering, suspended in the air like a balloon. A Jivamukti teacher once compared the jump throughs and the hovering balloon effect to dance a similar experience in dance. "Ballon [is] the appearance of weightlessness and of being airborne. A dancer is said to have ballon if (s)he seems to be in the air constantly with only momentary contact with the floor.")

This phrase has stayed in my head ever since. Like a mantra, it echoed in the back of my mind when I started to back out of a pose, or to tell myself something was not possible.

It seems funny imagining me being able to find my edge here in Mysore where my practice has been shortened significantly. It seems like it would get boring like I was repeating 5th grade, three times. And on some days, I admit, it was. I would run through my practice, doing the things I was always comfortable with doing. But then, I started to watch other people and to see how far you can take things. The edge means a different thing for everyone. For me, it comes up often in regards to strength. It took me so long to even be able to do a bad chaturanga dandasana (see picture on left). Really, I mean like a whole year. And even then, I was not looking forward to struggling through it.

So here in Mysore, finding my edge was seeing people fly, and being able to believe that it was possible. It was. It is. All I had to do was try and keep trying. And it has been so hard, but for me, that is the edge. How can I make this vinyasa soar? How can I maximize this stretch or this extension? How high can I lift up and how softly can I jump back? How closely can I get to the edge without falling over?

Working just in primary has been ideal for this transformation. I'm comfortable in primary. I feel like I've explored all the nooks and crannies and then discovered that there is a secret passageway leading here or there and there are more nooks and crannies to explore. That's the edge. Being brave enough to follow the passage into the unknown. To be willing to be surprised.

It hasn't just been physical. The edge has also been being able to leave the comfort of daily life to come here in the first place, alone. It has been getting up every morning and not giving up. Finding the edge has been about exploring what I've got inside and opening my eyes even when I don't see what I like.

Ever heard of parkour? I love this quote that describes parkour as "a playground for strength, freedom, courage and discipline". But its also so much about finding the edge of what we think is or isn't possible. Like walking on walls. Or jumping from roof top to roof top.

So, back to the original question: "how have I found my edge in mysore style?" I have made an effort to do everything full-blast, even if I haven't done it before or thought I couldn't. Like literally looking at my nose in nasagrai drishti. Why not? Or trying to work towards (and sometimes succeeding in) jumping back and forth in sun salutes with straight legs. Or lifting up between navasanas with the left leg on top even though its my weak side and I can't lift as high as with the other side. I've been looking for my edge by asking "why not?" and really understanding that here, everything is possible.

I think more and more about what my teacher said about how she came to ashtanga yoga because she wanted to learn how to fly. Finding your edge is about seeing your body and your capabilities and limitations and saying you're going to try anyway. It is about jumping out of the nest and trusting that your wings will work, because that's why you have them. It is about not seeing your body or your past or anything else as a limitation. It is about seeing possibility and making small or big steps toward it. It is about returning to your practice every day and noticing that you have a clean slate and that maybe today will be the day where something impossible will happen.