American Power Stretching v. Yoga: Who is to say?

I get really judgey about yoga.  The things that people call yoga often make my hackles stand up on end.  "That's American Power Stretching," I say indignantly, "that's not yoga."

By American Power Stretching, I mean the yoga done in gyms to intense beats and sweat streaming off the body.  The Lululemon yoga with cute outfits but without Oms or any understanding of the origins of the practice or the meaning of the word yoga.  The yoga with few alignment cues and lots of back strains and knee tweaks, because instructors are undertrained and overzealous.  "They shouldn't call it yoga.  They should call it something else," I say from my high horse.

Yoga means union with the divine, or according to Pantanjali, "the stilling of the changing states of the mind."  Not cute butts in cute butt shorts.

In the spirit of reflection, I am trying to challenge my own self-righteousness.  Particularly as yoga has taken so many twists and turns along the way, it's hard to say who gets to own that word.  The asana series, or physical practice, that many of us call yoga was derived from a 19th century Scandinavian gymnastics training program craze that swept Europe by storm.  Reread that sentence.  GYMNASTICS TRAINING PROGRAM= YOGA OF TODAY.  That's a little different than early aesthetics in the forest throwing down warrior ones and downward facing dogs to achieve enlightenment.  In fact, the earliest practices of yoga, we're talking second century BCE Pantanjali old, were focused on stillness and seat.  Only later were there a few postures introduced, which still looked nothing like our physical practice today.  It wasn't until those crazy Scandinavians stepped in that a new model was created and the asana series was modernized.  And quite frankly, I dig that yoga.  I like the physical challenges, and mental clarity, half moon pose, or crow, requires of me.  Not surprising, given my former life in gymnastics, but am I really holier than thou?

Furthermore, it's true that there's a lot that may be a part of a purer, or at least more ancient, yoga that I'm not really into.  My Kripalu teacher training book tells me about some pretty intense purification techniques that are not super appealing to me (Rags running through my sinus system?  No, thank you).  There's the fasting and aestheticism- never have quite gotten down with those.  So if I'm not doing all of the parts, am I not doing yoga?

And if I'm telling the truth, when I teach yoga, there are no Oms.  And I rarely mention anything having to do with the Divine.  Maybe my yoga's not real Yoga either.  Does it really matter?

For me, the physical practice of yoga, and meditation for that matter, is about practicing for life.  I'm trying to find a calm present space inside myself so that I'm less of a jerk face when confronted with 24 screaming middle school students, or a dirty dishwasher.  Because when I'm really present and grounded, it doesn't matter that there's a dust bunny under the sofa the size of a pitbull, or that I have to tell one of my students for the millionth time that it's not okay to get up and sharpen a pencil while I'm in the middle of giving directions (for the love of god, why don't they understand that yet?).  So I step on my mat and breath deeply because practicing here is fortifying me for the next day.  And I wake up at 5:45 to sit in the morning because I want to see my students for who they are in any given moment, not how they fall into an annoying disruptive pattern of behavior that, in truth, will never end, so I better find some peace with it.

So what I really hope that other people find that in their yoga, or American Power Stretching, or whatever it is that serves them, is this: the new definition of Yoga- a practice for life that helps us be a little less of a selfish jerk and a little more compassionate with ourselves and others.  And in that spirit, I can accept a tight bum as a nice side benefit.