This extract originally appeared in Bringing Yoga to Life: The Everyday Practice of Enlightened Living, by Donna Farhi, Harper San Francisco, 2003.

A certain day became a presence to me:

there it was, confronting me– a sky, air, light:

a being.  And before it started to descend

from the height of noon, it leaned over

and struck my shoulder as if with

the flat of a sword, granting me

honor and a task. The day’s blow

rang out, metallic––or it was I, a bell awakened,

and what I heard was my whole self

saying and singing what it knew: I can.

                           Denise Levertov,

                           “VARIATION ON A THEME BY RILKE" [1]

While having a teacher’s guidance and outer direction is imperative at many stages of Yoga practice, we make a quantum leap when we begin to direct our own practice.  That means practicing on our own.

What happens when we make that deep inner shift and arrive one morning on our mat or meditation cushion through our own volition?  At that moment we have begun to trust the inner guide that is leading us.  We may not be able to see just yet where we are going, but we’re willing to take a chance on ourselves.  We might not lead ourselves through our practice with the same smooth assurance we experience when guided by a teacher, but through flexing our inner muscles we start to become more adept at doing so.  We may not be certain that we’re doing it right.  We may not at first be as inspiring or as enthusiastic or as focused or as clear as our teacher, but increasingly we generate those same qualities.  There is a measurable psychological and physiological shift when we self-suggest [2]. We become both the leader and the follower.  At this point we have begun to join forces with our inner guide, our antaryamin, the manifestation of the Self within our own psyche.  When we are in the process of internalizing the teacher and the teachings, we have begun to listen to what many of us intuitively know and refer to as our inner voice.  Until we gain confidence in both listening to and following the promptings of this inner voice, we will always be looking for some outside authority to take care of us and tell us what to do.

Our inner guide can have many endearing qualities.  He or she may be part parent, part cheerleader, part Mr. Tough Guy, part analyst, part wise sage, and part comedian.  We may draw from our inner guide the qualities of a sister, an older brother, a father, a mother, a doting aunt, a wise grandparent, a transcendent deity, or a lover.  As we get to know ourselves, we also get to know the qualities of our inner guide that we need to bring forth.  If we are too lackadaisical, we may need to draw forth the stauncher, more directive guide, and if we are the sort of person who eats her banana with a knife and fork, we may need to find the guide in us that can help us to loosen up.  Most important, our inner guide never gives up on us.  No matter how bleak, hopeless, or pathetic our life appears to be, the inner guide still encourages us to stay with ourselves.  This loyal and devoted allegiance is what we expect from our outer teachers but rarely offer ourselves.

I cannot emphasize enough the importance of making this shift toward self-practice for it is in this shift that things come together.  When we open ourselves to receive teaching, it is as if we have filled a huge pot with many nourishing ingredients.  We fill it with raw onions and vegetables, lentils, ghee, and tasty spices.  But none of these raw materials can be digested and assimilated until melded together by the heat of the fire and by slow cooking.  When we start practicing on our own, it is as if we light a fire under ourselves.  This fire brings the deep essence of the teachings to the surface.  Just as a rich stew, once eaten and digested, becomes a part of our body, when we practice on our own the teachings become a part of us.

It can come as a surprise, then, to discover that only a tiny percentage of students who attend public Yoga classes and retreats practice on their own at home.  The most frequently declared purpose for attending a retreat or workshop is to kick-start a flailing or nonexistent self-directed practice.  So often we go to classes or retreats because we need the enthusiasm of the teacher to bolster us, and then we carry that enthusiasm home with us like a fragile parcel of gold dust.  But our inability or unwillingness to exercise the potential power of our own inner teacher is like a hole in the matrix of our psyche, which, over the course of days and weeks, leaks that precious gold dust until our briefly bolstered enthusiasm has vanished.  Now, of course, it’s time to go to another class or retreat!  But the one thing that is most likely to repair this gap in the psyche is practicing on our own.  Through practicing on our own, we create a job for this inner guide: by sheer necessity some part of ourselves must step forward to fulfil the role we have created.  As long as someone else is doing the job of directing, centering, disciplining, or encouraging, there will be no need for our inner guide to develop.  Additionally, as we make the effort to practice on our own, we will inevitably come up against the cause of this psychic vacancy. We may discover that we have never felt worthy of our own attentions or that we make our own personal development a low priority.  We may believe ourselves inept, incapable, and at worst, untrustworthy.  It is rarely a case of simply needing more skills or technical knowledge to proceed.  Rather, the job vacancy is there because we have not been willing or able to be an active participant in our spiritual practice.  Certainly, teachers can help, and I am not suggesting that practicing on our own should replace ongoing instruction and mentoring.  Everything we need from the teacher, however, is some part of ourselves that eventually we must draw forth from within ourselves.  The fact that we recognize these qualities in the teacher can give us some clues as to the latent forces within us that need to be catalyzed.

One way we can begin this shift toward self-directed practice is to identify the qualities that we most admire and look for in our teachers.  What has drawn us to them?  When you have identified these qualities, look at the meaning these qualities hold for you and how you might embody these qualities for yourself.  In particular, look at some of the things you most take for granted.  For instance, in all the time you have studied with your teacher, has she ever been late to class?  Or ever judged or humiliated you?  This quality of reliability and acceptance may give you a feeling of reassurance and steadiness.  How might you offer yourself this same reliability and unconditional acceptance?  Perhaps you teacher gives you his full attention and presence.  You feel as if he is listening intently to your every word and question, responding to your every need.  How could you offer yourself this same attentive awareness during your home practice and in so doing gain the courage to heed the promptings of your inner guru?

__________________

[1] Denise Levertov poem found in Breathing the Water (New York: New Directions, 1987).

[2] Wolfgange Luthe, M.D. , ed., Autogenic Therapy, vol. I (New York: Grune and Stratton, 1969). Early in Dr. Luthe’s research with psychiatric patients he noticed a radical shift in effectiveness when patients made self-suggested changes, rather than those changes being suggested through hypnosis by the therapist.