September 15
by Donna Farhi
The jury is in. We, as a community, have a dysfunctional relationship to pain. Whether this phenomenon is more broadly a cultural issue or whether this phenomenon is more acutely represented in yoga circles, I’m not sure. But it is a matter that each of us (whether practitioner or teacher) should spend a little time thinking about because ignoring pain has serious consequences.
I encounter this dysfunctional relationship to pain in every single class I teach: it has many layers and many potential sources. My objective in this brief newsletter is to begin a discussion which I hope to expand so that our yoga community can develop a healthier response to pain.
To begin, I invite you to consider the difference between believing and knowing. There is a fundamental difference between believing something is true and knowing something is true. When we believe, we do so often out of conviction or acceptance based on faith, whereas knowing refers to factual information supported by verifiable evidence. This is why there can be no “alternative facts” because the phrase would alter the very meaning of the word.
The reason I think it’s important to make the distinction between believing and knowing is that I meet an awful lot of people who continue to do practices that cause them quantifiable harm, yet they believe these practices to be “right” or “correct”. They’ve never questioned certain alignment cues and practices because they may have come from the head honcho of a yoga method or tradition or even from the latest influencer who is, with great confidence and authority, insisting you glue your knees together in Revolved Belly Pose (even if it’s killing your sacroiliac joint). Sadly, so many of these practices and alignment instructions ignore the anatomy and kinesiology of our structures. But even without anatomical knowledge, why practice in a way that causes pain?
It’s interesting to also ask: Who do I believe and why? Who do I question and why? Are my beliefs verifiable? And most importantly, do I have confidence in my own felt experience? If you are feeling pain in your hip while trying to follow an alignment cue, that’s a fact. If you are feeling sharp sensations in your sacroiliac joint during a twist, and by the afternoon your back is throbbing, is this not evidence of an unsound practice? If your doctor prescribed a drug that made your skin break out in a rash, wouldn’t you make an appointment to reassess that medication? These kinds of inquiries help us to discern between practices that heal and sustain good function and practices that harm and undermine basic mobility. This is one of the reasons I continue to be passionate about pedagogic models that encourage honest feedback from students, and intelligent discussion about the What, Why, and How of practice modalities. This is the reason I often say to participants: “Don’t believe me, test it in your own experience.”
If we don’t begin these broader discussions, yoga may become a practice that more people avoid and more doctors and physical therapists discourage. In 2020 the Accident Compensation Corporation in New Zealand reported a 5-year 23% increase in women's “gym and fitness” injuries (yoga being grouped inside this category) . . . with the vast majority of ACC soft tissue injuries being primarily back and shoulder strains or sprains.* It may simply be that more people are heading to the gym and to yoga classes, but many of the serious injuries that students relate to me tell a different story.
A fourteen-year study of yoga injuries treated in American emergency departments found the same pattern.** The trunk was the most commonly injured area, strain or sprain was the most common diagnosis, and the rate of injury climbed steeply with age, close to five times higher after sixty-five than before forty-five. I do not read that as an argument for practicing less as we age. I read it as an argument for practicing with more discernment.
If you would like to take this further, I have written six suggestions for changing your relationship to pain, three for your own practice and three for those of you who teach. You will find them here.
What were you taught that your body later disagreed with? I would like to hear from you. Join the conversation below by sharing your thoughts or curiosities.
All of this begins with a very high standard for comfort. When we find ourselves in a posture that feels uncomfortable, how can we adjust, alter, or change our position . . . even if what we do runs counter to common instructions. Then we are on the road to trusting our own perceptions and creatively finding a way to practice that works for our structure.
Because after all, yoga is meant to heal and bring joy . . . anything less should perhaps be given a different name.
Namaste,
Donna
* https://www.acc.co.nz/newsroom/stories/spike-in-minor-gym-injuries-could-be-a-good-thing/
** Swain TA, McGwin G. Yoga-Related Injuries in the United States From 2001 to 2014. Orthopaedic Journal of Sports Medicine, 2016. https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/2325967116671703
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I was lucky that I never had an injury as a result of years of yoga practices. I have always believe that asana gives me physical movement that makes me feel good for my body and ability. I credited this to my earlier teachers. The only encounter I had with pain was from a senior teacher who adjusted me to go ‘deeper into the pose’. It was lucky that the pose wasn’t held for a long time, or I would have suffered an injury/strain. I hadn’t returned to the teacher ever since.
As a teacher, I do the best I do with instructions/cues/suggestions. However, teaching people with varying abilities in a class remain challenging to cue. I do end up giving many options so those (striving personalities) who want (or ready to have) a ‘stronger’ practice feel challenged (though yoga practices shouldn’t be a workout). I do like to say to students that each body is different and their shapes will look different from others, and that they listen to their bodies if they experience discomfort.
Hi Donna,
This conversation is so helpful. I’m at a point in my teaching and practicing where I’m realizing I have to change my relationship to my own practice.
I’ve been dealing with a low back issue for years that I thought was a hip/hamstring issue because the pain radiates down my leg and into my sit bone. Imaging showed both hamstring tendinosis and mild disc bulging, but my PT has helped me understand that the pain is primarily coming from my back and is exacerbated by flexion. I also have a shoulder issue that gets sensitized by shoulder flexion, especially closer to the head, and when loaded in Down Dog.
I teach at a few different studios, including two hybrid classes, which I find particularly challenging. I like to respond to what I’m seeing in the room while also being aware that people online have to see me. Because the classes are recorded for replay, it can truly feel like trying to be two places at once.
I’ve been experimenting with demonstrating less and cueing more verbally, but the bigger realization is that my practice needs to change, and more quickly than I’d like it to. Which means my teaching has to change, too.
I come from an Ashtanga background, and although I haven’t practiced that way in 14 years, that lineage, along with the Iyengar methods, is deeply habituated to me. I’ve been studying more somatics and incorporating that into my teaching, and I’m realizing I need to go further in this direction and let go of the old. That includes right now, omitting certain postures that I’ve done for decades.
I have been ignoring pain signals partly because I’ve been resisting the change. But it’s time. I think a lot about meeting students where they are, not just where I am, and I’m finding it tricky to balance teaching from my own experience with staying responsive to what I’m actually seeing and sensing in the room.
I’m still in process, but the big takeaway from your article for me is, Don’t shoot the messenger. Honor the message and adjust as needed. Change is inevitable.
Thank you for this, Donna!
I was struck by your statement that “the rate of injury climbed steeply with age, close to five times higher after sixty-five than before forty-five.”
I am a 70 yo Yoga teacher, teaching since 2008, and your book, Teaching Yoga, is foundational. Boy golly how the body changes over time! Things my body thought were trivially easy when I was 12 and starting to fool around with Yoga (hello camel pose) are not healthy now. And boy your description of how you had your first injury when changing from your early home practice to a studio where they “corrected” you has stuck deep!!!
At this point the ladies I practice with “simply move.” We say, “just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should do it.” “You can tear your joints apart – that is not an advanced practice.”
We do poses, but we do not “seek to improve.” We just move. We explore alignment with the cue, “how does it feel if you…” Our goal is not improvement or deepening; it is to breathe and move gently with awareness. To get the juices flowing (literally and figuratively). We value softness, pliability, fluidity and resilience. It is a very different practice than what some of us did 20 years ago. And most of us feel better than we did when we were striving.
Our practice looks like Yoga but the intention is simply to move every joint, breathe, strengthen a bit, and play with balance. We start on the back and we roll around and loosen. We intentionally breathe, playing now and then with breath holds. We turn over to table, and do the same cat cow hip circles barrel roll set every practice, like running a thoroughbred thru its paces. We stand and do some arm swings and warrior variations. We do not forward fold much at all. (Most of us sit too much as it is – why feed that pattern?) We do very subtle standing backbends rooting the feet, engaging the glutes and mula, lifting the heart, and head. We go belly down and strengthen the back and undo sitting with downward boat. We lay on belly and bend knees and windshield wiper the feet. We sphinx and land and breathe. No overstretching that ol’ low back, thank you very much. We come up and do a balance or three. We come down and do a seated twist. Savasana is corpse pose with letting go/noticing the mindstuff. It’s not a fancy practice but it soothes and it serves.
The instruction is always do what feels right; you can do more, less, different. And they do. Often everyone is doing something different. And for me as the teacher, that is how it should be. My role is to carve the space in the day for each person to do what they need today – if they need to follow suggestions here they are, but if something else comes then go for it. Like music – if you want to take a jazz riff and weave something else in or sing harmony or your own song then great. It’s your practice; you are in charge.
We move every joint in the body, we breathe, we share stories. We do it all by Zoom, which started in Covid times and consisted of 1/2 hour of “how are you doing what are you doing who do you know with it how are they did you get your shots how did you feel where did you go …” and then some movement and breath. We do horse lips to release it all.
We practice BEING WITH. Being with what comes up. We sit with the discomfort of being able to do less or do differently than even a mere 5 or so years ago. This practice of being with what comes, is Yoga. We have shared stories of medical situations, deaths, sadnesses, puzzlements and joys.
We listen carefully and practice discernment – Svadhyaya. We send metta. We tuck a bolster under our hips and go upside down that way. We don’t hurt ourselves in the interest of “striking a pose.” It works; we feel better after class; shift happens; we remember to breathe despite the politics of country and family. The swirling energy settles. We are more aware of energy than before. It is good. Oh and it’s a tiny class – usually 2 to 5 people on the Zoom call. An hour and 15 minutes. Twice a week and that’s plenty. (I taught 10 classes a week before Covid … change happens. =)
I once sat at Kripalu with a much older Yoga teacher, in her 80s. I asked how her practice had changed over the years. She said it has become much more meditative. That statement helped me. It acknowledged that the practice changes. It acknowledged that aging bodies are different and need different things. It gave me permission to let go of some need to maintain deep poses. It allowed me to do less and still be in Yoga.
Your query does the same. Thank you.
Thank you for all you do,
A fan from Massachusetts
Pat Lebau
Kripalu Yoga teacher
Integrated Positional Therapy practitioner
What a wonderful description of what yoga and a yoga class can be. Thank you Pat.
As a long time yoga teacher, I find that each person who lays down a mat is there to stretch her/his body. Opening with breath work to come into the present, I honor their space, individualism and intelligence by saying, “Yoga practice is about breath and movement. It should not hurt; if you experience pain, please go slowly or modify the pose. You can also opt to sit back and feel your body; then rejoin.” Teachers who insist on true form and practice are often off-putting. I never went back to one teacher who slapped a practitioner on the back and said, “The ribs, I said the RIBS!” We were all shocked! Isn’t yoga also about knowing and developing your real self. And isn’t the point to be more empathetic and compassionate with people? How does strictness to form fit all the diverse bodies who practice? Each person must “feel” his/her own body. If there is pain in a pose, I say, “don’t do it.” Pain is an indication of something wrong – and that takes more than yoga.
In sum, what I’m advocating is a softer approach, and a caveat before each class that “some poses are challenging – go to your edge, but please modify to fit your needs.”
Yoga should not cause pain.
In any other context, slapping and shouting at someone is called abuse. I’m at least heartened that those present were shocked because this kind of behavior became normalized during the height of Iyengar’s domination in the U.S. No one blinked, and no one did anything in response to behaviors such as smacking, slapping, kicking, shouting and humiliating.
I have a close colleague who was kicked in the chest while in headstand by B.K.S. Iyengar during his study visit to India. My friend was in his sixties at the time and left with deep bruising. Another colleague was present to hear the deep “thud” that announced the forcefulness of that assault. When my friend returned to Australia and discussed this with board members, a fellow yoga teacher suggested that maybe he “needed to be kicked.” He bravely left the method and his association with it. The witness, who was also a physical therapist, also made the decision to relinquish her relationship with the method.
This gives us some idea of the depth of dysfunction in our yoga culture which continues to this day. We need to call out violence for what it is.
This is exactly what I needed to read today! I just had *that* student this morning – that always wants to do more, more, more —- regardless of what her body tells her. It is challenging for me to hold the space for that type of student. I was proud of myself for holding the line. My younger self would probably have caved into the pressure and gave a vigorous class to appease the student’s wants and plowed through any warning signs that she was over her head. The students who say that they are “fine” in my experience would rather never admit to being in pain. I’m wondering how you get them to the place of self discovery.
Hi Rachel!
One way to approach “that” student who always wants to do more is to first recognize there is a positive aspect to their enthusiasm and drive. Your student obviously has a very strong will (which is also a positive quality), something that many people lack. So my question with these students is how to carefully redirect this will power? Can I offer that person the challenge of using their energy to focus more intently on the process of practice by slowing down and by paying attention to how they do a movement rather than how far they go. I might give them the challenge to maintain stability and integrity in a movement and to recognize the subtle moment when they are about to lose this integrity. How can they stop right before they collapse or push into an end-range position? Then I make sure that I compliment and acknowledge their efforts, such as noting how they have transitioned from one movement to the next in a more functional way.
I’m very thankful that when I went to YTT, my teachers emphasized paying attention to sensations, and using our own discernment to learn about the difference between discomfort and pain. They taught that pain is a signal of injury, whereas discomfort indicates excess tension. The tricky part is, as yoga practitioners, we’re encouraged to get comfortable in our uncomfortableness. Perhaps that’s a good indication of the difference – injurious practices do not get more comfortable, but easing up tension does. We learned to micromove into and out of areas of tension, all the while listening to how it actually is in our bodies, and to never force or push through. I am over 65 now and continue to practice safely and effectively, thanks to my early training.
Amy – this is a wonderful tribute to the value of excellent training and how a good foundation can serve us for a lifetime. One well trained intelligent teacher can have an impressive impact on hundreds of students and on the gradual shift of yoga culture from one that glorifies pushing through pain to one that celebrates kindness and compassion.
Thank you for the newsletter, Donna, and for giving access to the two articles which are interesting. My students are all over 50, and most are between 60-75. Further to attending classes with you and with Lisa Petersen, I encourage students to ‘listen to their bodies’ and make appropriate modifications because, ultimately, only they know what is happening in their own bodies in any particular practice and moment. Last year I ‘took over’ a face-to-face class and introduced somatic practices. I have been encouraging students to notice and respond to physical sensations. In a recent end-of-term feedback exercise, one student commented that she was still learning to “accept and work with the body she had”. To accommodate a pre-existing shoulder injury, she now chooses alternative arm positions (for instance in warrior poses). I find this encouraging because, although I tell students this is their practice not mine, for those who have done yoga a long time and with teachers who have a different pedagogic view, it takes courage to accept one’s vulnerabilities and do one’s own thing. This term I am encouraging students to consider the question you suggest (“What might you do to find greater comfort in this posture or practice?”). It was interesting that one student’s response was not a physical modification but a mental/thought pattern change.
In many ways Sandra, all movement patterns are also mental and emotional patterns. When people talk about needing to “push themselves” they are giving language to a separation between the body and mind.
Hi Donna, I wonder if you’d remember me, it’s jai. I came to NZ in 2001 to attend one of your retreats after working with you at kripalu and loving your BMC/Yoga approach.
Thank you for the letter about relationship to pain. I ask myself, what does it mean to truly listen? To listen like a forest or an ocean, from quiet and depth and clarity; and the humility that arises, if we are willing to listen deeply and be devoted to the truth, from simply having a human body, a crumbling mysterious sacred impermanent temple. To “listen” to oneself and others into openness and discovery. Discovering not what we want, but what is here. What IS. excluding nothing, including pain in the bodymind.
I’m 71 now, in vibrant health and fully recovered after a surprising discovery of lung cancer two years ago necessitating surgery. So, goodbye to the upper lobe of my left lung! All Clear.
wow. what a journey that was….
after hatha yoga as my primary bodymind practice for decades, I have been immersing and deepening in Tai Chi and Tai Chi sword, for many years now. There’s something about the primacy of listening on that ancient path, and the relationship to the Earth and Sky, in both solo forms and two-person forms, that fits so well with not only for my physical body now but where I am living/experiencing in my meditation and retreats.
Thank you for getting so clearly to the point– that these practices are not, ultimately, for increasing a sense of achievement, competition, or upholding certain standards of fitness or beauty, or anything external for that matter. They are, primarily, I feel, internal arts, even though we are moving through space and something seems to be happening. and yet, when i am moving as a totality, as being itself, is there really something i could call movement? such an amazing inquiry!!
We love form, as humans, and there are reasons that certain positions and movements, ways of breathing, certainly in the Tibetan Buddhist tantric tradition which has been my primary practice, that open up awareness, presence, and awakening. yes. But let’s not cleave to the outer forms mistaking them for what they are not.
This human body is such a rare gift. I love that you are sending out a clear message that it’s worth listening to, and caring for at deeper levels beyond our egoic fits!
I hope you are well, my work with you transformed my yoga practice in ways i could not have imagined! I’m so grateful to have known and worked with you Donna!
I work monthly with a BMC teacher/bodyworker who has worked closely with Bonnie for decades. it’s wonderful to be connected to that work and how it infuses how i move through the world.
many blessings
Om Shanti
Jai
Dear Jai,
How lovely to hear from you . . . I have fond memories of my time at Kripalu.
Deep listening and inquisitiveness (rather than acquisitiveness), are qualities that can infuse everything that we do, whether practicing yoga, Tai Chi, or responding to a health crisis with steadiness. I’m glad you are still vibrantly healthy and so engaged in life . . .
Thank you for speaking the truth. I was a yoga teacher for 15 years and then I left for the very reasons you spoke about. I still follow certain teachers but have added mobility teachers and movement teachers to my ongoing exploration of my personal practice.
Hi Jane, I’m glad to hear that you have been able to continue a practice that is more aligned with your values. The shared-inquiry pedagogic model that values the self sovereignty of the student is one that is rubbing up against something bigger than the existing yoga culture. It is an attitude to the body and most especially towards women and Nature that is centuries old. Nonetheless, I am happy to see that yoga culture is gradually shifting even if these shifts are taking place outside the mainstream of the yoga industry.
What a wonderful newsletter and exploration of pain, so on target and on (always) time. Thank you, Donna, for your sensitive insights and inquiry. I will try to be succinct in my comments.
I think a lot of things can be happening in terms of yoga and pain, based on my own experience, two of which are: A) As a practitioner, I can be doing (or attempting) a pose in the “right” way with sound cues from a knowledgeable and experienced teacher, and the pose can still be causing me pain because of my own underlying anatomy, not the fault of the teacher or the asana — something about my musculoskeletal system is out of alignment; therefore, no attempts at “alignment” (a cornerstone of practices I’ve studied) are going to work and might in fact hurt and cause injury. B) The teacher can be giving unsound cues that can be bad for anyone.
I have found very few teachers who can cope with scenario A. As a teacher I ended up feeling like physical therapy needed to be a component of yoga teacher training and became really hesitant to teach, given the vastness of personal anatomy. The more I learned, the less I knew.
I started practicing yoga in 1984 at the age of 16 and have had an on-off relationship with it ever since. I have 2,200 hours of teacher training and taught for 10 years, starting in 2011. After a few years of teaching I developed severe pain in my right hip. The tradition that I sunk into, which turned out to be culty, was very “Yoga teacher heal thyself.” I have since looked at my unconscious allegiance, to borrow Donna’s term, to authority and the notion that grown-ups in charge can always be trusted (HA) and why I didn’t trust myself and my inner knowing. This tradition not-so-subtly shunned Western medicine, using “allopathic” as a dirty word, and suggested that surgery was bad — that pain and injuries were character flaws (not to mention the idea that karma is “You ask for everything that happens to you”).
I found a great physical therapist and worked to manage the pain, having discovered that I had a torn labrum and both types of FAI (femoroacetabular impingement). The hunch is that the FAI (poky and misshapen femoral head) was a congenital or developmental abnormality and led to the torn labrum. I don’t think yoga “caused” it; any physical activity and being in my body for 50 years might have brought the same outcome. After managing the pain for a year with some improvement, I tried a water aerobics class and was in so much pain walking back to my car that I called my surgeon immediately. I had an arthroscopic procedure in 2017. Fast-forward three years and I had the same procedure in the other hip when the same symptoms very clearly appeared — in both cases, primarily in poses with weight-bearing external rotation, e.g. trikonasana. That time, I didn’t hesitate to have surgery, and that hip was in fact by then “worse off.”
I am grateful for the surgeries, which were highly successful in terms of addressing the damage and perhaps obviating total replacements, although I have some nerve and tissue damage from the procedures and, of course, arthritis. But I have been able to resume most of my preferred activities. One notable change is that it feels entirely natural and sound for me to bend the front knee when coming out of trikonasana (and sometimes going into it) to help lighten the load of having that hip joint bear the weight of the whole upper body as it comes back upright. This has been a bit of an issue in Iyengar classes, but I explain my reasoning when asked and will no longer put up with the notion that there is only one way to do a pose and that the inability to do it is a moral failure. Most of the time I think the teachers are just curious, but I have a long and complex relationship with that tradition — which, to be clear, was not the culty one (although the Iyengar system was 100% the primary asana influence in it). I’ve had plenty of teachers who didn’t understand why I couldn’t do XYZ pose and leave me in the dust — “Don’t do anything that hurts.” Duh.
Years after the first surgery, a peer in the culty tradition essentially congratulated me for having had surgery in the face of a tradition that essentially banned it. So my impression was validated, which gave me another layer of introspection to work with. Good times!
I learned that pain is simply information, data. And yes, as the cliche goes, suffering is optional (maybe?). I don’t want to say that in the culty tradition — which I participated in whole-heartedly for seven years, that’s another story — “I was made to feel” anything, because I am responsible for my feelings. But there was definitely the vibe of “Do X pose for Y ailment” — as if yoga was a complete panacea for anything and everything, and pain was always our fault (= shame and blame). Or take supplements from the MLM company the school was attached to, as a magical cure (i.e. keep lining their wallets with what might be snake oil, and you’ll get better). The teacher was always right and had to be the smartest person in the room. It was a very colonizing mentality, actually. We were meant to “achieve” the poses as they looked in the photos in our manuals, with some modifications offered (but still — at some point it just becomes really stupid to try do a pose that isn’t working for a particular body). It did not feel safe to say no or say “this hurts.”
So I learned some valuable but … painful … lessons. What remains frustrating is that we don’t always know what’s causing pain, or what might help or exacerbate it (trial and error), and managing it takes a lot of energy. It’s part of a quality-of-life equation that remains personal for everyone but valid and real.
Dear Leslie,
You make some incredibly potent observations worth unpacking.
First, I question that the idea of “alignment” and adhering to a “correct” alignment cue should ever result in pain. For instance, everyone has a unique hip structure and even differences between the left and right side. In standing postures this often means adjusting the relationship between the two legs. There is simply no one alignment cue or way of approaching a practice that is going to work for everyone.
You mention that you have not been able to find many teachers who can manage deviation from their alignment cues. In my early years of studying with Iyengar teachers I witnessed teachers become visibly enraged when I was not following their instructions exactly. This speaks to an authoritarian approach that sadly creates teachers who do not learn from their students or from their mistakes. Many of my students have created wonderful variations to accommodate their unique structures and I am always interested to learn why they are doing what they’re doing.
Further, I feel confident in saying that B.K.S. Iyengar and his methodology are central in so much of the body shaming, humiliation and abuse that has taken place within yoga culture and continues to pervade contemporary practice and teaching. But you bring up a very important issue and that is teachers pretending they have medical knowledge when they don’t, and offering yoga as a therapy while actively discouraging medical and most especially surgical treatment. This is extremely unethical and cultivating a prejudice towards Western medicine and surgical solutions is unhelpful. I would posit that we would not need so many knee and hip replacements in this generation of yoga practitioners if we had not been pressed, pushed and aggressively “adjusted” beyond healthy ranges of motion.
I’m glad that you are seeking a safer environment in which to practice and learn.
Thank you so much for taking the time to respond here, Donna, and so thoughtfully. I actually do agree with this: “There is simply no one alignment cue or way of approaching a practice that is going to work for everyone.” It’s a big reason I became so daunted as a teacher. I began to see why yoga was once upon a time a 1:1 experience. My saga with the cult also absolutely ruined my relationship with yoga for quite some time, a very painful time. The people I thought had my best interests at heart simply did not, etc. Abuse can take many forms, and spiritual abuse has its own circle in hell.
I have followed you for many years, since reading your beautiful book “Bringing Yoga to Life,” and took a workshop with you in the late 2000s in Washington, D.C. I have appreciated your calling a spade a spade in the Iyengar tradition, with specific examples and evidence. Yes to the ongoing authoritarianism, body shaming, humiliation and abuse that continue to pervade yoga and “wellness” culture (and, as is obvious in many countries, the highest levels of government and therefore cultures and societies at large).
And I agree about the joint replacements in “senior” teachers, many of whom seem loath to acknowledge that they’ve had such procedures. In the culty tradition I was in, adjustments (as I could see in hindsight) came from a very invasive, rigid and colonizing attitude of the teacher “achieving” the pose for the student, as if a pose were the teacher’s “accomplishment” and not a way to help a student have a safe, self-directed experience. In an ideal world, teaching should be a collaborative experience.
You are one of the *very* few teachers I know who has compassionately contributed to a sensible and logical approach to yoga and teaching, even if from “outside the village gates,” and I continue to be inspired by that as I rethink my often fraught relationship with yoga (and my body). I appreciate that you have continued to study and share with great depth, breadth, honesty and curiosity.
Hey Donna
This is a very necessary conversation. I wish you would bring a workshop about this to the US close to NY. Would love to host you. I have a location. Moving body resources on W 27th. Let me know!
Hi Bobbie,
Thank you for your interest in Hosting Donna. To explore this further, please review this page: https://donnafarhi.co.nz/hosting-donna/
Thank you for a thought-provoking article. I sometimes wonder whether the type of unconscious relationship we have with our body drives us to push it beyond its limits, even though it sends us physical messages to take notice and to have a frank internal discussion with it about what it needs now in this moment.
HI Christina, One of the things that both myself and assistants observed in a recent intensive is even when people have understood an anatomical concept, and even when they have practiced a posture in a way that feels more comfortable, they often unconsciously practice “the old way” unless it’s brought to their attention.
If you think about the hundreds of times that someone might have heard the instruction “hips square to the front” in Warrior Pose, and the hundreds of times they’ve attempted to create this anatomical conundrum, it can help us to understand the deep neural pathways that have formed. To change requires being aware, attentive, and pausing before we do the “old way” so that we can find a new neural pathway. This is why I tell training teachers that the first microsecond in which a person begins a movement is the moment to intervene and offer repatterning and a new choice . . not when they’ve completed the arc of a movement a repeated their patterning. Teachers are often taught “to adjust” an already dysfunctional position that is a fait accompli. That student will often need the same adjustment week after week, year after year, to the frustration of the teacher because the student never learned how to initiate, engage and complete a new movement pattern.
Hi Donna, thank you for this very thought provoking article. What I find among teachers who use straps for teaching students is that the students with particularly large bodies tend to over strain their groin when they taught to move one extended leg out of centre in a lying position. I’ve seen so many students who ended up with the groin strain taught by my colleague at a retreat over the years. It’s not easy for beginners or those who come to a retreat situation to do one week of yoga all of sudden then to use a strap to control your leg.. I think teachers who use straps need to be so mindful.
Dear Yuka,
You bring up an excellent point and that is the external use of props and leveraging in the form of straps, wall ropes and weights. What I observe is that people often learn to passively lean and overstretch ligaments through the incorrect use of these props. This tends to create “passive flexibility” rather than the active mobility that comes when our movement is self-supported through muscular engagement. In simple terms: only going as far as we can while supporting the movement without the help of an external support.
One way of correcting this in a posture like Supine Big Toe Pose is to suggest that students let go of the yoga belt and observe whether they can hold their leg in the existing position, or whether they need to adjust the vector of the movement or reduce the range of movement, especially in external rotation variations. People soon discover that there is a big difference between movement that is supported from core stability and the “flop and drop” that is often a person’s first intro into this pose.
Thanks for your post on a topic I often think about. Only the other day I had an image of a group class in yoga asana and reflected for a moment on how many people new to yoga soon if not immediately aspire to make or perform the shapes as best they can at any cost to themselves, a cost they don’t immediately perceive and can creep up on them over time, with the destination taking priority over the sensing and feeling in getting and being there. Your points about belief vs internal knowing, also in section 3 of your six meditations on pain ‘Discovering your unconscious higher allegiance’, are fundamental. In our society there is a prevailing higher allegiance to, eg, staying young, healthy, fit (not redefining healthy and fit as age-suitable and age-/always-changing). Then, in yoga, on top of that is a higher allegiance to a tradition or perceived/received messages from a guru, teacher, scriptures etc. This is a powerful combination. Even when an unconscious higher allegiance is made conscious it’s still deeply embedded as a samskara and hard to overcome. It can almost feel like there’s a contradiction or certainly conflict between following what you know somatically and what you believe through conditioning, whether cultural or practice-specific. I have drastically reduced my own yoga asana practice and moved much more towards the Feldenkrais Method because it encourages sensing and feeling as ways towards more comfortable movement. I appreciate yoga asana can be explored and experienced in similar ways through teachers such as yourself and others. I still see unresolved issues within the yoga community about the relationship between ‘received wisdom’ and personal practice/deviation which is why your post and the work of others who are exploring similar issues, is so important. Thank you.
Thank you Karen for these insights. As someone who has been outside the village gates for almost the entirety of my professional career as a yoga teacher, I’ve come to understand that what I am rubbing up against is not contemporary, or personal, but thousands of years of patriarchy and the way this has insinuated itself into authoritarian yoga culture, and most especially it’s relationship to women and to nature. As more and more historical research is revealing the lies about the origin of yoga and post modern postural yoga practices, I have a deep skepticism of just about every yoga “tradition” out there. I am more interested in what medical research, somatics and science is bringing to our attention and how this often ties with personal experience.
Very timely article for me. My question is how to respond if you are advised to avoid particular poses because they are likely to exacerbate an injury even if the posture causes no pain and no negative after affects? I have bursitis along with a very damaged tendon in my hip and have been advised to replace child’s pose with puppy pose. Child’s pose is one of the few positions I feel genuinely comfortable in at the moment. Who do I trust more – the health professional or my body?