When given a choice, do we indulge the ego, or actually practice some of those qualities embodied in the yoga process?
My view of the mountains
The large studio was quiet; an oasis of goodness with clean lines and open spaces, hidden quietly and invitingly at the bottom of the expansive and beautifully kept gardens of the owners, whose home was nestled in the foothills of the lush green Himalayas. The students were a mixed crew, the 3 week course by highly qualified Iyengar teachers drawing a varied, sometimes eclectic bunch from all corners of the globe. The environment resembled a stage on which an artful symphony of movement, thought, and sound would be enacted, gracefully presided over by the form of Patanjali at one end of the studio, Hanuman at the other. The props were plentiful, space was ample, the temperature perfect, the atmosphere divine. I was ready.
The first few days were perfect, a pocket of time and space where the air was pure, free from the burden of familiarity with anyone around you: the kind of peace and calmness one can experience only in a place where no one knows you, where everyone is a stranger, where no one can lay claim to anything around them….like drifitng in a yogic universe….a sort of “Cheers” sitcom set without the booze…
And then I spotted her. I’d seen her before. You couldn’t miss her, really, though it was hard at first to figure out why: she wasn’t particularly attractive, though she dressed nicely; her yoga gear didn’t suit her, but she wore it like the usual brand junkie…harmless enough and slightly amusing; it wasn’t her yoga expertise, though she made sure you knew she was a teacher, that she was a ‘regular’ here in this special place, she’d been here before, she was “one of them;” nor was it her kindness or selfless personality that made her stand out….she extended herself only to instruct, correct, and order people around. If no one listened, she’d do it louder.
Ahhh….that was it: she was the one we were all going to have to deal with. She was the Yoga Ego Queen, and she’d come to grace the studio and its lowly members with her presence.
I watched as, soon enough, some of the others became irritated, some became dismissive, some subservient and cowed by her bossiness, some became quiet and avoided her. She was incapable of noticing her effect: her ego was upfront, out there, in charge. She was big, bossy, loud-mouthed, and she was there to stake her claim as The One.
Sri Patanjali
We’ve all seen them; there’s one in every studio. Sure, there’s plenty of egos in a yoga studio: in a confined space, they’ll tumble around the room, emanating from every corner, bouncing often quietly around the walls, their impact most often subdued by the rubber matting, blankets, and bolsters; softened when normally they’d be sharp, muted when they’d normally be loud, harmless when they might usually inflict pain.
But some egos are indestructible; worse, they increase in ferocity in such an environment. Perhaps they’re living a repressed life, with nowhere in the normal course of their day when they can unleash themselves and lord it over the collective masses. They find their field of play in the yoga studio: surrounded by those who are conditioned, or at least trying very hard, to live the qualities of yoga rather than just wear the clothes, to do the yogic thing and see the good in everyone, to actuallybe yogis-in-training whose mood leans more towards understanding and developing the qualities befitting one absorbed in a yoga practice. Consequently, Yoga Egos find a non-aggressive opponent in the confined realm of a studio environment.
There’s no exciting confrontations that this article will lead to; no crushing of the dominating ego who destroyed the yogic atmosphere on many occasions; no so-called justice, no tv soap ending, roll credits, the end.
Because yoga is just not like that. The people who actually endeavor to learn the science of yoga know that there’s more to it than proficiency in asanas, more depth than trendy designer yoga gear, more satisfaction in the discovery of how one responds to situations rather than being the one who creates them.
The yamas and niyamas are a consciously-entered process of self-development, and yoga itself a ritual practice embodying the art of making life sacred.
So as I said, this article doesn’t deliver the sordid and delicious details of one girl’s comeuppance. It’s far more than that: it’s the quiet, un-smug, non-proud satisfaction of knowing that through this artful practice of yoga, we are given the conscious opportunity to sometimes just “not go there,” when “there” is a place inhabited by qualities we’d rather avoid.
For the beauty of the qualities you embed in the yoga sutras, and the graceful choices we are inspired to make, my respectful pranams to you, Sri Patanjali.