I’ve often wondered if yoga is at odds with goal setting. I mean, you’re supposed to be accepting yourself in the here and now, right? But at the same time pushing yourself to your end range? We all love the feeling of doing something we didn’t used to be able to do, is there a problem with actively chasing that feeling?

I set two “yoga goals” last year, and I didn’t “accomplish” either of them. I can’t do the splits, nor can I do handstand. Meh. Maybe that’s the kind of goal setting that doesn’t mesh well with yoga. Teacher’s would call this a “results-oriented goal,” really dorky education peeps would call it a “summative assessment.” Meaning, here’s your deadline, can you do it? Yes or no. The answer is black and white, and shows no distinction between being aaaaaaaalmost there, and miles away. Improvement counts for nothing.

The other type of goal (that, turns out, is much more effective in the classroom) seems to be the kind of goal that can be in the same room with yoga. This is the “process-oriented goal,” the “formative assessment.” It’s not about what you can and cannot do (seriously, out of those thousands and thousands of asanas, the former would be depressing), but about the way you go about it. Your process counts. Your effort. Your attitude. Whether or not you check off the “yes” box at the end of the year/month/day, you have a whole spectrum of softer skills to evaluate. This is actually harder to do (hence the reason why most classrooms rely on the former. What’s the difference between an A- and a B+ in effort, anyway?), but when it’s done correctly, it can be a lot more motivating for students, and it usually yields better results.

Okay. End of nerdy teacher stuff. I will set goals in yoga, but not the kind I set last year. I’m afraid that by writing them out, they’ll all sound cliche, but basically, I just want to do it. I just want to go there. To stop thinking about it, stop second-guessing, stop throwing out terms like “end range” and “comfort zone” and just do it already! Go, girl, go!

So, I’m curious. What are your yoga goals this year?

Cheers to you! xoxo

I was really struck by Matt’s post on Chasing Success, especially the part about how quickly you sometimes “progress” in the beginning of your yoga practice. For me, that post hit very close to home, and I wanted to share my thoughts.

Before I started practicing regularly, I couldn’t even touch my toes. Touch my toes, kids. I was TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD. And my toes were out of reach. Also, I would get ridiculously sore after every class. Like, it-hurts-too-much-to-lift-my-arm-and-brush-my-teeth-sore. Honestly, when I first started, I didn’t even know hips could stretch, or where my hamstrings were. I would sashay down the grocery store aisles, not sure why my hips felt like jello, thinking, why is my butt so sore? I knew 4 muscle groups: arms, legs, butt, and abs. It was not a pretty picture.

After a few weeks of yoga, that started to change. It didn’t take long at all, and before the month was over, I was getting up into headstand. A few classes later, I did a rotating headstand. I busted out astavakrasana after two months. I felt like I was born for this, and should probably see about getting yoga into the Olympics and training for my new career as an Olympic yogini. Because see, that’s how I still thought of yoga: that’s how competitive I was.

Thankfully, I got a little reality check. I started to learn what yoga was really about (at least for me… some people still want to see it in the Olympics, but that’s not my bag anymore), and I started to respect it for what it was. I also began to see my journey through yoga less as “progress” than I did as a way of building my relationship with my body, my balance and focus, and my practice. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that while, yes, my body did change once I started practicing–it got stronger and slightly more flexible– what really changed was how well I got to know my own body. I got to know my own strength, and how to balance, and how to stack and align my joints to make the poses “click” rather than muscling my way into them. I learned how to push through what I thought was my end range. I learned how to actually stretch. I learned to trust myself, and that even if I did face plant in an arm balance, my face was only a few inches from the floor, and falling didn’t hurt. I learned that even if I did try taking handstand off the wall and forgot to engage my core like mad and my feet went sailing over my head, I could catch myself, or at least cartwheel down. I could fall and not flail terrifyingly out of control.

Who am I kidding, I’m still learning. Donkey kicks still scare the crap out of me. But I’ve taken the word “progress” down a notch, and am thinking of it more like making acquaintance with all my muscle groups. I still get stronger, I still get more flexible, but I’ve also learned not to flip out at myself for being too tired to get into parsva bakasana. I am learning to ignore the urge to “win,” to “progress,” to “conquer” the splits or tittibhasana.

I am, ironic though it is, learning to play.

… this time, involves backbends. Apparently I’ve been doing them COMPLETELY WRONG. Yoga, you humble me yet again.

Well, dearest yogis, I’m off for a long weekend, that water trampoline has my name all over it.

To end the week, I wanted to leave you with this little clip a friend sent to me. We had spent dinner debating whether or not technology had actually improved the collective life of humanity (if you’re snoring, I’ll spare you) and had really gotten nowhere: we just didn’t know. Then, in Jeff’s class today, he was talking about seeing the glass as half full vs. half empty, and how if you’re a half empty sort of person it won’t matter if the cup is full of gold, and I found myself thinking back over my dinner conversation. So much of it goes hand in hand.

Anyway. We’re light on philosophy over here at YB, but we do still think about it from time to time. So I’ll let the clip speak for itself. And I’ll whisper in your ear: everything IS amazing.

Happy weekend! You know I’ll have a drink for you ; )

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8r1CZTLk-Gk&feature=related

I received an email from the lovely Laurel Thompson, an ER nurse in Palo Alto who just started practicing at YB. She asked the same questions I was asking a few months ago, so I thought I’d share them on here in case there are any other newbies out there who are curious.

Disclaimer: I am a beginning yogini in EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD. If you have serious questions, please direct them to one of our capable, accomplished instructors… I can only speak for myself, and I don’t even have a solid idea of where my hip flexors are, so take all this with a grain of salt.

Anyway, take it away Laurel!

“Today was invigorating, I sweat more than I thought I ever could and was very impressed with William and how friendly everyone was. I will be returning to yoga belly! From a beginners stand point what do you recommend? Would you stick to the yoga belly classes for awhile then move to the power yoga? How many days should I aim to go to a class. Let me know what you think I would love any suggestions!!!”

So, here are my thoughts.

Personally, I find the Yoga Belly classes to be just as much as a cardio workout as the power classes, though the power classes do a little more in terms of technique, and it helps to be familiar with some of the basic poses because we move through them really quickly in power. I don’t think the power classes are HARDER (some people do, but I still sweat my brains out in Yoga Belly), but instructors will say things like, “Come up into Warrior 2″ instead of “Turn your front foot to face the mirror, square your hips to the parking lot, relax the shoulders, tuck the pelvis under, find the 50/50 weight distribution, and gaze over your middle finger.” You’ll also do a bunch of funky poses in power that you don’t really do in YB. Most importantly, you’ll see all levels in all the classes, and poses can be modified to meet your particular needs on that particular day. So, don’t be intimidated, just go to class and make it about YOUR practice.

If I were you, I’d try both and see which you like! I started with the Hour of Power classes, did a few YB classes, and then worked up to the 75 and 90 minute classes a few months later. 90 minutes of power is still pretty intense for me, and I still go to the YB classes, especially if I need to revisit my foundation.

As far as how often you should practice, that all depends on your goals, schedule, and other fitness interests. Since I don’t do much else besides yoga and snowboarding in the winter, I try to go 4-5 times a week, which means I usually go 3-4 times a week. If I’m too sore to hold a pose for longer than a split second, I take a day off, but I find if I go less than 3 times a week I don’t really progress the way I’d like to. Also, when I first started practicing, I was doing some running and kickboxing at the gym. However, I found that I ended up with tight muscles, and it really affected my yoga. I decided to take 6 months off from everything else and just focus on yoga, and that really worked for me. So much, in fact, that a year later I’m just now incorporating running and other activities into my routine : ) But, that’s just me! Some people come once or twice a week because they do triathlons and circuit training or just work 60 hours a week, so everyone’s different. You’ll find a stride that works for you.

So, welcome new yogis and yoginis! We hope you’re settling in and getting to know this wacky, sweaty, sexy new family of yours. If you have any other questions that a yoga newbie can answer, please feel free to ask! For the hard stuff, there’s a yoga mama or yoga daddy out there who will be much more helpful than myself.

Coming soon: Yoga Gear for Newbies: Mats, Towels, and Tanks, Oh My! A Collection of Gear For Every Budget

Image courtesy of lululemon.com

On the significance of dots and other tiny things:

“”What would happen if a plane dropped you in the middle of the Sahara Desert and you picked up a single grain of sand… and moved it one millimeter?”… I said, “I dunno, what?” [Dad] said, “Think about it.” I thought about it. “I guess I would have moved a grain of sand.” “Which would mean?” “Which would mean I moved a grain of sand?” “Which would mean you changed the Sahara.” “So?” “So? So the Sahara is a vast desert. And it has existed for millions of years. And you changed it!… If you hadn’t done it, human history would have been one way…” “Uh huh?” “But you did do it, so…?” I stood on the bed, pointed my fingers at the fake stars, and screamed: “I changed the course of human history!”"       — From Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

*

By now, you’ve all seen them: the striking pointillist pieces adorning the walls of Yoga Belly. The prayer hands, the rippling abdomens, and my personal favorite, the hands in pockets. The first time I saw them, I didn’t realize they were entirely composed of dots: I just saw them and thought, “Whoa.” But then I looked more closely, and recognized the painstaking craft and care behind each image, and the way the artist combined something as simple and unremarkable as a dot into a compelling, arresting visual experience. One seemingly insignificant dot plays an important role in the overall composition… such an apt metaphor, especially in a yoga studio.

For those of you who haven’t read the bio, Kyle Taylor is the man behind the art. You’ll find him in the studio on Wednesday nights, getting his Warrior 2 on with Will and the YB family. He is largely self-taught: beyond a survey course in high school, he hasn’t had any formal training. Coulda fooled me!

Kyle grew up in the midwest and now studies Cellular and Molecular Biology at Stanford University. His friend introduced him to yoga, and he relished the chance to get out of the lab and onto the mat. Since then, he has (no surprise!) fallen in love with the YB community, and yoga has increasingly informed his art (Hence, the Namaste hands).

When it comes to his art, Kyle is both a lover of challenge and a glutton for punishment. While explaining the inspiration behind his work, he says, “The hands on the ‘Namaste’ piece annoyed me, so I decided to do a piece that highlighted the parts that I didn’t like – hands.” While Kyle sometimes approaches his art with a dogged sense of determination (that no doubt bolsters his academic career), art also offers him an escape. Both art and yoga grant him a brief respite from the helter-skelter of life at Stanford, and a glimpse of possibility beyond Things We Can See and Things We Can Measure and Things We Can Explain. “[Art] helps me access my more emotional and irrational side,” he says, “Something that I find incredibly challenging to do.”

Art has also offered Kyle insight. Because it forces him to tune in to his intuition and emotions, it also helped him recognize and respect his sexuality. “This is basically how I came out to myself,” he says, “and dealing with those issues is the motivation for this burst of artwork.  Long story short, I started with a couple of self-portraits.  I had always thought I’d wanted to be other guys, that I wasn’t ‘man’ enough.  The self-portraits were a silent scream saying no I am man enough.  From there, I explored wanting to be with other guys, and then just wanting to connect with people instead of being (largely) alone.”

So yes, Yoga Belly, meet Kyle. A fantastic artist, budding scientist, and humble yogi. The best part is, besides his obvious talents, he’s so down to earth. When I asked him about his art and “aesthetic” (sorry, I’m a writer, I can’t help it), he said, “Ma’am, I’m from rural Kansas, I’m not sure I’ve ever thought about my aesthetic.” Well. How ’bout them apples.

Some of you have witnessed my battle first-hand. You’ve come to class a few minutes early, seen me inches from the wall, my legs flailing behind me, feet thudding like elephants, my face red and puffy and hair standing on end.

Apologies, ladies and gentlemen, for my glamourous attempt at handstand. And believe it or not, it used to be even uglier. And all that beautiful-ugly has given me a lot to think about, as I begin class too tired to chaturanga, too winded to get my ujayi on.

Because, if handstand is one thing to me, it is HARD.

And if it’s more than one thing, it’s beautiful and shimmery and nearly unattainable and unnatural and graceful and defiant and strong and oh my GOD I want it so badly!

So. For the last several months, I’ve been coming early to class to take advantage of the wall. I’ve broken picture frames at home and slammed onto my back and shaken the entire downstairs with my donkey kicks. I started out afraid of hitting the wall, and just barely able to scissor my legs up to hip level. I tried donkey kicks and felt so ridiculous that I learned humility real quick. I’d lean forward onto my hands, bounce my right leg just above my hips, lift my left foot for a fraction of a second, and come back to earth. Again and again and again.

It took me almost five months before I could even kick up onto the wall. But when I did, when I felt myself suspended over my hands, flipping the world upside down, and –finally!–tapping my toes against the wall, I felt like I was flying. I literally gasped as I cocked one leg at a right angle, rocking myself back and forth against the wall. I felt light, yet solid, and strong.

… for about eight seconds. Then I piked back down and gasped for air, exhausted.

Repeat about a thousand times over the course of the next two months. When I first started kicking up, I only got into handstand once in about 10 kicks. Then it went to once every 8 kicks. Now, I can kick up pretty easily, about once every 3 kicks.

Handstand is a pretty arbitrary goal that I’ve set for myself, I realize. I even realize the irony of goal-setting in yoga. And yet, I love the way the world looks from upside down, from my toes on the wall, my elbows straight below me. I love the ache in my arms that creeps in even before class starts. I love the quiet smack of my feet on the floor behind me, the dull thud of them on the wall above me, the thud that gets quieter and quieter the longer I practice. Handstand reminds me that yoga is never over, it’s never done, there is always something more. I’ve never worked so long on getting my body to do something. But I’ve spent almost a year working on this, and this is just the beginning. Once I kick up every time, I’ll work on floating up. Then I’ll work on coming off the wall. Then looking between my hands. There is no end, and we’re all going in the same direction. Or maybe we’re not. I really don’t know. But I’m pretty sure it’s not about beginning or advanced or whether you practice twice a month or twice a day. I think it’s about where you are, right now, and where you’re going, someday. And the way you choose to get there, whether it’s sweating quietly or grunting loudly or giggling your way through your vinyasas in class, at the beach, in your living room. And it’s about loving the view.

For me, I love the view from upside down. Even if I have to kick a thousand times to get it.

On that note, let’s give three cheers for Uganda! There’s still a long way to go, but this is a very big step, guys.

And, closer to home, thank you, lovely Presbyterians, for finally seeing the light after thirty-three years of nonsense.

Not bad for a day’s work, eh?

Let’s eat cake.

Photo: Kyoto Katsura, the women’s division champion at the New York Regional Yoga Championship

Some of you probably know that Rajashree and Bikram Choudhury, the husband-and-wife team behind Bikram yoga, are pushing for yoga to be recognized as an Olympic sport. For those of you that don’t know the story, the idea can be a little baffling at first.

“Wait, what?” You ask, “Yoga in the Olympics? Isn’t that against everything yoga stands for?”

Good question. Yoga is a practice that focuses on inner growth, and accepting yourself. Even the yoga vernacular reflects this: we “practice” yoga, we don’t “play” yoga or “do” yoga. Some say that directly conflicts with making yoga a competitive sport.

Others argue that yoga is a set of skills just like anything else, and that those skills can be measured and scored, including things like focus and breathing. Yoga competitions do exist in India, and some people see the Olympics as a natural place for talented athletes, er, yogis, to showcase their skills.

What do you think? Should yoga belong in the Olympics? Should it be a competitive sport?

Photo courtesy of nytimes.com