There comes a time in the life of every Yoga practitioner when they feel that they are not progressing anymore.
It is normal to want to progress. It is normal to have goals. The pursuit to evolve and grow is human and universal. The question is: how do we define progress in Yoga?
In the Ashtanga universe progress often equals new poses, new series, binding, catching heels, deepening backbends, putting the legs behind the head etc.
In most cases, when people practice daily, they make a lot of progress in the first couple of years. Often enough students complete Primary Series in 2-3 years, sometimes even quicker.
Other people however get stuck in a pose for what seems like an eternity. And everyone - I repeat - everyone, will reach a plateau at some point. A period of several months, sometimes a year, when seemingly nothing new happens in their practice, no tangible progress whatsoever.
These ebbs and flows are absolutely normal and reflect life itself. Yet they are a source of frustration for so many students and the cause some quit the practice altogether.
Progress is not always visible
When I first started practicing, it took me a while to realise that feeling stuck is closely related to the way in which we define progress. We want it to be constant, visible and measurable. We want our backbends to be deeper, our inversions stronger and our transitions light and smooth.
What this approach fails to acknowledge is the subtleties which make Ashtanga Yoga so special. How do you measure the quality of the breath, the steadiness of the mind, the building of resilience? These things are not visible, they can only be felt.
Keeping a constant rhythm of breath, where you once were gasping for air, is a kind of progress that cannot be seen, that no “before and after” post can capture. Maintaining a consistent daily practice without injuring yourself is progress. Getting to overcome your fears and expand your mind as to what you are able to do is progress.
Catching your heels might eventually happen if your practice is consistent, but getting your mind to stay calm in Kapotasana is a kind of progress you should celebrate more than anything else. These are the things we’re working on every day, along with increasing the mind’s capacity to grasp these subtleties.
Progress is happening, even when it’s invisible.
The inevitable plateau
It happens to everyone. No exception here. Often enough, it happens after a period of rapid progress.
Once the body has learned a lot of new things and its limits have expanded, it needs some time to get used to its new state before it expands even further. This is why a period of significant progress is usually followed by a plateau, a period when not much change happens.
What to do? Recognise the plateau for what it is. Keep practicing, work on the more subtle aspects of the practice rather than trying to achieve new asanas. It is usually when practitioners do not respect the plateau that injury happens. It is the body telling us that at that particular moment it cannot be overloaded with new ambitions.
One of the skills we need to acquire along the way is to learn when to push further and when to slow down. This takes experience and an open mind and heart.
Abhyasa and Vairagya - putting in the effort and letting go.
Last but not least, if we work smart during the plateaus, we can consolidate our practice and become stronger, setting the foundations for further progress later.
Different bodies, different trajectories
Every practitioner has a different starting point and background. Our bodies carry the weight of our past experiences and are shaped by our genes and lifestyle. These things are extremely relevant when it comes to how fast one will progress in asana. I fervently believe that dedication and commitment beat talent and I am a proof of that myself. You can read my blog post about this topic here.
Still, all the dedication in the world cannot completely erase the impact of our genes and our lifestyle.
To give an example: someone with long limbs in relation to their torso will manage to bind in Marichyasana D more easily, and potentially with less thoracic mobility than someone with shorter arms. Or: long legs and short torso make leg-behind-the-head poses easier. Also: inversions are easier for shorter people as they have a lower center of gravity compared to tall people.
I am not saying that if you have the right proportions things just come to you. Of course not. But some body types will need to work less than others. Often, this is the reason why some people get stuck in poses despite a strong commitment and a daily practice, while others finish Primary in a year.
So, as much as some like to believe, commitment is not everything. We can't be blind to the fact that not everyone will do advanced series and not everyone will catch their heels in a backbend. Some people will, others won't.
Does this mean that a student who is “limited” by their body type should feel less worthy? Absolutely not! And it is the responsibility of a compassionate teacher to avoid making the student feel like this. We cannot imply that if they cannot do a certain pose, it is because they lack commitment. This is wrong thinking and will rather discourage students.
I am all for pushing people to achieve their greatest potential. But as teachers we need to be realistic, grounded and compassionate and meet our students where they are. We need to show them that a perfect shape is not everything. We need to allow them to focus on their strengths and work on their weaknesses. We need to help them understand and befriend their limits. Which brings me to the next point:
Body shaming should not have a place in the Yoga communities
Yet it is there and not sufficiently addressed. I keep hearing stories from fellow practitioners and students about teachers asking them to lose weight or "fast" to progress in asana. All in the name of "deepening their practice".
People often come to Yoga to learn to love and accept themselves. Instead they feel judged and rejected. This is even more true in the Ashtanga world, which unfortunately is very competitive.
If students feel joy and acceptance in their relationship with their teacher, they will be motivated to to continue practicing and in turn develop healthier lifestyle habits anyway. There is no need for a teacher to judge or micromanage.
Practice - in its own, subtle and magical way - shows us what we need to change and how we can better ourselves. It also shows us the path of self love, instead of the one of guilt and shame.
But all this takes time. There are no shortcuts. Telling students they need to starve themselves to progress, is not only unnecessary but also disrespectful and dangerous.
I know people who quit Ashtanga because they thought it was not for them. They felt frowned upon because they didn’t "tick all the boxes". I also know people who developed eating disorders, compulsively controlling their weight in order to progress, become light and bind in certain asanas. This is extremely sad and needs to stop.
Our physical and mental health is much more valuable than progress in asana. The very term of “progress” needs to be redefined, to account for not just perfection in shapes but also the deeper aspects of Yoga.
If we want Yoga to extend beyond the mat and if we want to learn something more than just asana, then we need to allow this practice to teach us self love and self respect above anything else.
