Mysore is Alchemy
Musings of a Mysore Teacher…
I think I was 26 years old when I started teaching yoga. And though I had a passion for teaching vinyasa flow and power yoga for years, alongside my ashtanga classes and practice, I made the choice in 2021 to teach only mysore. There was a lot of weight in this decision, mainly because I truly believe wholeheartedly in the Ashtanga yoga method of practice and teaching.
The mysore room is unlike other yoga spaces. A place of focus and strength, creative energy and tactile awareness, lingering doubts and unspoken reciprocity. The silence that allows you to finally hear the deep dialogue of the subtle body. This is truly a place of alchemy.
And so how does one hold space as a mysore teacher? Amidst this western world of “simon says” yoga, and teachers who don’t even get off their mats, nor make eye contact with students. For, we are not only teaching asana, but we are charged with holding space for self transformation, even in the most basic flow class.
I still remember my first yoga class. It was a beginners flow class at Puma Yoga. I was mesmerized by the continuity of the shapes, the way the body could move from one to the next while riding on a wave of breath. I was hooked. How can something be so ethereal and so tangible at the same time?
And that is the path we shine the light on, as Ashtanga teachers. Yes, we use a framework of postures to explore the capabilities of the body, but the real lessons lie in the translation of this inner work -to our everyday lives. If you’ve heard anything about yoga -you’ve certainly heard this.
So, as teachers we can certainly create a sequence of postures that feels good, feels challenging (if thats what you want), or feels relaxing (if thats more your thing). We can sync up the music, practice our best moves and cues, and guide people in a mobility exercise that just might make them a slightly better human.
Or, we can facilitate self discovery.
As teachers, if we enter the room from a place of *wanting to learn* , rather than a place of *I have something to teach*, we allow our students to take control of the experience. We could bark orders and demo poses, Or, we could encourage students to challenge fears, face the odds, and meet their demons in a controlled environment. This requires an open ended journey of lessons that both people embark on together.
It's a misfortune when teachers think all they have to offer students are verbal cues or physical adjustments in Asana. The lone, lost mysore teacher, unsure where to put their eyes or their hands while they're standing in the room. You've got to get comfortable with the silence. If you give students space to experience their practice, you are allowing them to uncover layers of their potential, and empowering them to have their own experience.
However, in the kinetic space of the mysore room, the roles are intertwined. As teachers, we have the responsibility of setting the tone and providing the atmosphere. We have the responsibility of tuning into our students' needs, especially the unspoken ones. We have to create a space that welcomes everyone and also stands apart from a "ho hum" experience.
As students, we must bring with us an open heart and mind, yet taking care not to have too many expectations. We must show up for ourselves first, and not rely on the teacher to continually assist us or challenge us.
As a community, we need to show up for each other and be mindful of things like Nobel Silence, start/end times, shala cleanliness, and the teacher's energy. We need to acknowledge the role our energy has in the collective space and strive to act from a place of love.
When we can stimulate this sense of responsibility for our own practices, we open the doors to what our teachers have to offer. We are suddenly in a space of co creation, and that's where the magic happens.
As a teacher I can easily, almost mindlessly, walk around and manipulate body parts, or tell people to do certain things with their bodies. This sort of arbitrary, cookie cutter approach, is not really teaching anyone anything. But if we observe long enough to notice patterns, if we stay quiet long enough to let personal processes reveal themselves, we can then provide impactful and insightful support to students.
It doesn't really matter what someone wants to do with their practice, or their body, as long as it's not harmful. We aren’t here to tell people how to make shapes, we are Alchemists, we are here to transform lives.