Reflections on yoga by a newly-qualified Yogi

The word yoga comes from the Sanskrit word, Yuj: to join or unite. Here, the ‘union’ is between the self and the Self; the merging of our earthly, mortal self with the higher, more eternal consciousness that all life-forms have in common. Yoga, frequently thought of as a form of physical exercise, can be better understood as a practice which helps us to channel our true loving nature, with samadhi (a state of complete liberation from the chains of ego instinct) as the end goal. Asana – the physical element of yoga – is merely a means to this end. I have practiced yoga (with perhaps too strong a focus on asana) for over four years now, and have only caught mere glimpses of samadhi. For most of us, this will be the work of a lifetime, but even the snapshots I have seen were enough to keep me coming back for more.

I started practicing yoga on the tiny patch of carpet next to my bed in my first-year student accomodation. With only a vague awareness of what yoga was or why anyone did it, I started following the same 10-minute YouTube video a few mornings each week (I still recommend this video to beginners for a short, accessible flow), and even from this minimal commitment I saw my flexibility improve, my strength increase and my clarity of mind sharpen. I started to venture out of my bedroom and into live studio-classes, and I looked forward to each class as if it were a gift to myself. Yoga made me feel good in a way that other exercise had failed to, and I enjoyed thinking about the philosophy that came with it.

During my second year at university, I got a job working as a receptionist in a yoga studio in Birmingham. It was great for me to immerse myself a little deeper in the yoga world; I got to learn more about different styles of yoga and to chat to the instructors before and after the classes. One time an instructor asked me if I teach yoga too, which was the first time it had occurred to me that this was a possibility for me. I started to think more and more about it and I was aware that it’s also a great skill to take on the road; the idea of teaching yoga in hostels and on beaches was enough to feed a dream that I would carry with me for years.

It was during the first half of 2021 that I started looking seriously into potential yoga teacher trainings, when I was finishing up my studies and getting ready to make my next move. I had hoped to do my training in Rishikesh, Northern India. Rishikesh is widely accepted as the yoga capital of the world and, having spent my final year writing about the wrongs of cultural appropriation, I felt it was important to honour the cultural roots of this practice that had come to play such an important role in my life. However, the outbreak of the Indian variant of Covid coincided with my research process, and given that I was also planning a trip out to Latin America, I was prepared to change my plans to suit these logistical requirements. When I saw a 21-day Teacher Training advertised in San Marcos, a hippy haven on the shores of Guatemala’s Lake Atitlán, I felt a strong calling to choose that one above the hundreds of others. The lake stood in my memory as one of the most beautiful places I had ever visited, and I really didn’t take too much more persuasion than the photos on the yoga school’s website. In hindsight, I think I could have spent a little longer researching the course and the school, and done comparisons with others for price, duration, content and daily schedules, but I was so taken by the idea of completing my training at this location that it really didn’t occur to me that there was much else to consider. In some ways, my expectations of the course left me feeling a little short-changed, but as I move through the different seasons of my life, each time I learn a little better that expectations are premeditated resentments. Where better to reinforce this understanding than at a Yoga Teacher Training..?

I arrived at Lake Atitlán within the first few days of March feeling intrepid (and a little apprehensive) about the prospect of so much asana for so many consecutive days. I expected it to be physically exhausting and tried to train accordingly in the weeks and months that led up to it, so I was surprised to see that this was not at all the most challenging aspect of the course. Neither was giving up caffeine, lie-ins, screen time and alcohol. I think the thing that I found the hardest about inhabiting this space for three weeks was precisely that: the space. In an environment designed to foster mindfulness and connection, there are endless opportunities for confrontations with the voice in your own head. Whether it is in the stillness of meditation, in the challenge of a strong pose that everyone else seems to have no problem holding or in the simple the absence of light-hearted frivolity, your thoughts are always lurking just around the corner, waiting to tap you on the shoulder and see if you can withstand the temptation to run away with them into the quiet.

Surrounded by so much space, the doubts in my mind seemed louder and my limiting beliefs felt stronger, but I would now guess that this is part of the initiation. I had to look my inner critic in the eye and find a way to make peace with her. I had to suffer through the silence until it didn’t feel like suffering anymore. I had to navigate the communication of my experience, summoning the courage to admit, both to others and to myself, that I was not experiencing the non-stop zen that I had assumed would be part and parcel of a Yoga Teacher Training. Luckily this was made much easier because I was surrounded by open and receptive course-mates who were having their own struggle with the radical spaciousness, helping me to see that aversion to stillness is something that most of us have in common. The difficult emotions I was feeling, from frustration to disappointment to flat-out exhaustion, seemed so much more powerful in this environment – probably just because I was more aware of them without any kind of scapegoat or distraction. However, this helped me to learn my most profound yogic lesson to date: that relinquishing resistance to uncomfortable sensations will carry them easier through the passage of time.

The practice of yoga is not really about stretching further or sustaining a longer plank; you can be an accomplished yogi without ever touching your toes. Yoga asks that you greet yourself as a friend, with a deep acceptance of the mental and physical state you find yourself in and a commitment to listen to whatever might come up in the act of really paying inward-attention. As you move through your practice without judgement, you watch yoga’s tentacles extend off your mat and into your life as you open yourself to both the ease and the difficulty of life. This is the process. This is the feeling yoga gives you if you stick with it, and as nervous as I am at the prospect of putting myself out there and developing a yoga voice and trying to make sure nobody hurts themselves under my watch, this is a gift I really can’t wait to share with anyone who is open to receive it.