Abhijata, Artisan of Silence
I Just finished a yoga class taught by a master. I could say taught by the granddaughter of a master, but in her own right, she shines on her own. I am talking about Abhijata, grand daughter of legendary yoga master, BKS Iyengar. After 6 weeks in Pune, I have taken many classes, with different teachers, and have been inspired and have learned and deepened my practice with all of them. Each and every teacher has something to offer. But it is not so much about what they give, it is really more about what I have received, as Prashant Iyengar says.
My eyes, ears, and mind pay attention. But I offer myself as a student full of samskaras, or imprints from past lives. In addition, I have the imprints and the scars of this life. So I come with some knowledge, or my own perceived knowledge. As a student, I am not fortunate to have the opportunity of taking classes with a regular teacher in my hometown. Perhaps this has been a blessing in disguise, as well as a curse, as I am forced to figure things out on my own. I have developed bad habits along the way, as well as the kind of introspection that doesn't occur in a class setting. In my own solitude, I have been forced to look at myself from the inside. I have cultivated a personal practice that has shown me pains, sorrows, failures and very few successes. Or at least what I would categorize as successes.
Along my path, I consider myself a slow learner. I would take a class or workshop here and there, and use what I learned to explore and understand mySelf, and my body. Along the way I have discovered not only frustration, fear, impatience and loneliness, but also an opportunity for inner silence. Even in the most challenging of practices, I have encountered hope. Sometimes that hope started out as hopelessness, on the physical level as my hamstrings didn't seem to stretch. But as I surrendered myself into Savasana, at the end of my practice, I would find that my physical body would have a different vibration. A quiet, soothing vibration. A sense that my hamstrings really were not that important in the grand scheme of life.
Today, after an insightful and elegantly taught class, I am left with that same feeling. Some of the observers, which were mainly men, and newbies, relayed to me afterwards that they didn't think the class was so great. That it was very basic. My reality was different, having experienced the class as a student. But perhaps I have found something that the entry level yogis will discover as their practice simmers over time. Abhijata was not teaching poses. Yes, she was teaching asanas, but she was using the asanas as tools. Tools to help us shut up. Like a hammer moves a nail, she was shouting out instructions to push all the mind chatter down into a concentrative and useful material, so that we could have proper actions in our bodies. She brought us into our back bodies, where the nervous system doesn't have to be attacking. Like a screwdriver, she was teaching us to screw our femurs into the correct place to help all the hip, knees, and back problems in the room. Like a wrench, she controlled a hundred people, many of them new, in the room seamlessly, with creativity, and authority. And like a level, she was helping us to become more level headed by paying attention. And in today's class, paying attention to our great artisan, brought about an inner attention to the inner body.
Anyone can teach asanas. But only an Iyengar can lead us into the state of yoga. And when led by a master, even 100 people in a room can disappear. And I am left all alone, with my own Self. Thank you Abhijata, for spreading the bounty of your grandfather, BKS Iyengar, and sharing with us the tools of silence. OM Shanti.
My eyes, ears, and mind pay attention. But I offer myself as a student full of samskaras, or imprints from past lives. In addition, I have the imprints and the scars of this life. So I come with some knowledge, or my own perceived knowledge. As a student, I am not fortunate to have the opportunity of taking classes with a regular teacher in my hometown. Perhaps this has been a blessing in disguise, as well as a curse, as I am forced to figure things out on my own. I have developed bad habits along the way, as well as the kind of introspection that doesn't occur in a class setting. In my own solitude, I have been forced to look at myself from the inside. I have cultivated a personal practice that has shown me pains, sorrows, failures and very few successes. Or at least what I would categorize as successes.
Along my path, I consider myself a slow learner. I would take a class or workshop here and there, and use what I learned to explore and understand mySelf, and my body. Along the way I have discovered not only frustration, fear, impatience and loneliness, but also an opportunity for inner silence. Even in the most challenging of practices, I have encountered hope. Sometimes that hope started out as hopelessness, on the physical level as my hamstrings didn't seem to stretch. But as I surrendered myself into Savasana, at the end of my practice, I would find that my physical body would have a different vibration. A quiet, soothing vibration. A sense that my hamstrings really were not that important in the grand scheme of life.
Today, after an insightful and elegantly taught class, I am left with that same feeling. Some of the observers, which were mainly men, and newbies, relayed to me afterwards that they didn't think the class was so great. That it was very basic. My reality was different, having experienced the class as a student. But perhaps I have found something that the entry level yogis will discover as their practice simmers over time. Abhijata was not teaching poses. Yes, she was teaching asanas, but she was using the asanas as tools. Tools to help us shut up. Like a hammer moves a nail, she was shouting out instructions to push all the mind chatter down into a concentrative and useful material, so that we could have proper actions in our bodies. She brought us into our back bodies, where the nervous system doesn't have to be attacking. Like a screwdriver, she was teaching us to screw our femurs into the correct place to help all the hip, knees, and back problems in the room. Like a wrench, she controlled a hundred people, many of them new, in the room seamlessly, with creativity, and authority. And like a level, she was helping us to become more level headed by paying attention. And in today's class, paying attention to our great artisan, brought about an inner attention to the inner body.
Anyone can teach asanas. But only an Iyengar can lead us into the state of yoga. And when led by a master, even 100 people in a room can disappear. And I am left all alone, with my own Self. Thank you Abhijata, for spreading the bounty of your grandfather, BKS Iyengar, and sharing with us the tools of silence. OM Shanti.
Thanks for posting this, Rosa. I enjoyed watching her classes. Got to take some in 2007, but though she did a really good job of bringing the beyond the asana aspects of yoga into the classes.
ReplyDeleteI also had a similar experience since I was also in the class. My ears were peeled back, my senses upright ready to be taught. I was amazed, but should I have been at the way Abhijata taught and controlled the class after all she was taught by a master. She was unfazed by the number of people in the class and taught the class from a solid foundation with her feet firmly planted in the teachings of Iyengar yoga. She delivered the goods! I planted my feet like never before in Adho Mukha Svanasana and felt the uprightness of S. Sirsasana in a way that I haven’t been able to do on my own with my back body alive, awake and present. Most of all I was turned inwards (swastika) and present in body, mind and spirit.
ReplyDeleteThe comments made by the observers is from observing. You have to have experienced the class to know what is was all about. I experienced the class first hand and learned and received from the source. Very impressed.