The following post is an article that I wrote for the Spring issue of the Yoga Bridge, the Yoga Association of Alberta's Newsletter.
Perfection and Yoga: a Reflection
By Pam Moskie
Georg Feuerstein comments that yoga is a “vast body of doctrines and practices geared toward self-realization by means of perfecting the body.” As a recovering perfectionist, his use of the word perfecting got me thinking. Is self-realization a product of perfection? And if so, what does it mean to perfect the body? Whose standard of perfection is to be used?
My Random House dictionary defines perfect as “having all the desired qualities or having no flaws or defects.” Yet, what is a defect to one practitioner or teacher could be mastery to another. Although we have numerous ancient scriptures that may play a role in defining this notion, each reader will be applying it through their own filters, biography and biases.
For a time in my own journey, every asana became a whipping post against which I measured my progress toward a standard of perfection that I thought would lead me to self-realization. A part of me was satisfied, if not arrogant, that I was on the blessed path of the yogi, that I had the secret to Peace, Unity and Truth. If only, I could get my head a little closer to my shins in Padangustanasa. If only, I could sustain lotus a little longer without my back hurting. If only, I could just purge the deep sadness and all the other perceived flaws or defects that seem to linger in the corners of my life. Maybe then I would find Grace. But Grace found me before I had the chance to stretch or purge any further toward perfection. I was Graced with a question: how does the if only of my yoga practice differ from the other ones that seem to pervade our society? If only, I had that job. If only, I had that husband. I only I had that grade or that house, then I would be happy. In this context, I was not afraid to label such thoughts as the work of the ego, but I did not recognize similar thoughts in my yoga teachings and practice. After reflection, I recognized how such striving and discontentment had the potential to take me further away from Self.
What would yoga look like if it were not a path to perfection? Every movement could become a way to bump up against the blockages in our bodies, not to fix them, but to know and embrace them as another expression of life. Daniel Odier, a teacher of Tantra (Kashmir Shaivism) says this in his book Desire,
“We never try to change or adopt a new way of behaving; instead we try only to allow our awareness to descend toward what is really happening within us. We will notice that this presence is sufficient for putting an end to whatever is blocking the flow of life.”
Perfection and Yoga: a Reflection
By Pam Moskie
Georg Feuerstein comments that yoga is a “vast body of doctrines and practices geared toward self-realization by means of perfecting the body.” As a recovering perfectionist, his use of the word perfecting got me thinking. Is self-realization a product of perfection? And if so, what does it mean to perfect the body? Whose standard of perfection is to be used?
My Random House dictionary defines perfect as “having all the desired qualities or having no flaws or defects.” Yet, what is a defect to one practitioner or teacher could be mastery to another. Although we have numerous ancient scriptures that may play a role in defining this notion, each reader will be applying it through their own filters, biography and biases.
For a time in my own journey, every asana became a whipping post against which I measured my progress toward a standard of perfection that I thought would lead me to self-realization. A part of me was satisfied, if not arrogant, that I was on the blessed path of the yogi, that I had the secret to Peace, Unity and Truth. If only, I could get my head a little closer to my shins in Padangustanasa. If only, I could sustain lotus a little longer without my back hurting. If only, I could just purge the deep sadness and all the other perceived flaws or defects that seem to linger in the corners of my life. Maybe then I would find Grace. But Grace found me before I had the chance to stretch or purge any further toward perfection. I was Graced with a question: how does the if only of my yoga practice differ from the other ones that seem to pervade our society? If only, I had that job. If only, I had that husband. I only I had that grade or that house, then I would be happy. In this context, I was not afraid to label such thoughts as the work of the ego, but I did not recognize similar thoughts in my yoga teachings and practice. After reflection, I recognized how such striving and discontentment had the potential to take me further away from Self.
What would yoga look like if it were not a path to perfection? Every movement could become a way to bump up against the blockages in our bodies, not to fix them, but to know and embrace them as another expression of life. Daniel Odier, a teacher of Tantra (Kashmir Shaivism) says this in his book Desire,
“We never try to change or adopt a new way of behaving; instead we try only to allow our awareness to descend toward what is really happening within us. We will notice that this presence is sufficient for putting an end to whatever is blocking the flow of life.”
Trikonasana
What might this look like in practice? I find myself in Trikonasana and my awareness begins to descend. Groin and hamstrings feel tight. Legs and core-body feel weak. I breathe, not because I want to create a release and not because I want to strive toward any ideal. I breathe because I want to let the sensations become louder and more tangible. Awareness indiscriminately welcomes all of life’s expressions. Then, I feel drawn to shift a little in my hips, not because that would make me more perfect, but because something magnetic and deeply intuitive invites me to. I shift and the whole process starts again. As I drop further into listening I realize something much more essential than a standard or belief is calling me to movement. It is the same force that rotates the planets, changes the seasons, and creates me from moment to moment. In my deep listening I hear the familiar voice of the achiever within me, but even that I let be. I let be the quivering of my muscles and the flows of sensation. All seeking ceases.
As a teacher, I feel it is my duty to question the conscious and unconscious assumptions I make about yoga. May we all find a thousand ways to come to Self through presence, to celebrate the totality of our humanness and to live as love simply by being.
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