In which yoga is like a GPS

Yogic philosophy asks us to work from the general to the specific in our practice: from principles to physical movement to breathing to different kinds of meditation. Kinda like zooming in with a camera lens. Or the way a GPS gives you the overview of a journey before it moves to specific directions.

So, if you were to follow the yoga sutra attributed to Patanjali, you’d first master the Yamas and Niyamas: things we do and don’t do, like non-lying, non-stealing, moderation, and non-violence. Only when you had mastered those would you move onto Asana practice: the physical movements that are core to a modern understanding of yoga. And only then would you engage in Pranayama: breath-work. And so on.

I am not a traditionalist on this. Like many modern yoga-practitioners, my entry point was the movement part. After years of marathoning with a weak back and a bum knee, modern yoga felt like a relief and a challenge all at once. Something I knew I could not do yet but hoped one day to master.

Only later did I discover the philosophies linked to yoga, and the benefits of meditation and breath work. Only later did it occur to me that even the simple poses have details I am not so much mastering as feeling into, exploring, and that they feel different every day.

In fact, I am still disovering all of that, and probably will for the rest of my life. I’m more than ok with that. I don’t think my practice is any less “yogic” for not being linear. I think it is exactly what it needs to be. This is what I mean when I say: yoga meets you where you are.

This process is also a perfect replica of life off the mat. Learning processes generally move from the general to the specific, and often have a random entry point based on who we each are. The more we know about a certain topic, the more it is clear that there is always more to learn. The closer we get to a person, the more complex (and fascinating) they become. The more we walk the same path every day, with open eyes and consciousness, the more clearly we see the tiny constant changes that mean it, in fact, is not the same path at all.

This is what I love about yoga. The newness within the continuation and habit. The expansiveness within each breath. Its ability to be right-sized for what I need. Every single time.