Many Voices - One Practice

By Cecily Milne, Yoga Instructor

It dawned on me the other day that, while I’m beyond fortunate to study with wonderful teachers both here in Toronto and abroad, that there could be some head-scratching ahead as I come to terms with different philosophies and approaches to the ancient practice of Ashtanga yoga. I’m first and foremost grateful to be studying with such amazing individuals, but I’m curious whether this period of immersion with multiple teachers will leave me feeling enriched or just confused.

When I first booked my trip to Maui to study with Nancy Gilgoff, I knew I was signing up for a yoga experience that would differ greatly from what I was accustomed to at my home studio, Downward Dog Yoga Centre. My first day practicing at Nancy’s House of Yoga and Zen, she was taking the day off while her fantastic assistant Casey taught the Mysore class that morning.

She immediately picked up on my idiosyncrasies and bad habits: small things like bringing my hands together in prayer every time I came back to the front of my mat between standing postures (a no-no that was so ingrained I barely noticed I was doing it), to deeper issues like my lack of emphasis on the breath and tendency to forget about drishti (gaze) and bandhas (the internal “locks” or “seals” that we engage when practicing Ashtanga yoga).

The next day, when I practiced with Nancy for the first time, some of her corrections ran in direct opposition to what I had learned from my other teachers. Fortunately, Nancy is used to having students come to her from all corners of the globe, each having been exposed to variations on the original practice she learned over thirty years ago with Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, or Guruji. Instead of taking a dogmatic “You do!” approach, she spoke amicably:

“I know this is going to be different than what you’re used to. But all I ask is that, while you’re here, you give what I’m telling you a try and just see how you feel. If you don’t like how you feel after you leave, stop doing it. But if you feel good, then maybe it’s working for you.”

Over the next few days, I started to think of Nancy as a true guide. She is devoted to teaching Ashtanga yoga as it was taught to her back in the 70s. At that time, she learned a system that worked for her, that she wanted to share with others. Since the time she spent in Mysore studying with Pattabhi, the practice has changed and evolved, as all things do. Nancy respects these changes, yet remains loyal to the original principles that established her understanding of Ashtanga. She’s like a historian in that way, offering us a glimpse into how things used to be.

The only other Westerner who can speak to what it was like “back then in Mysore” the way Nancy can is the man who went to India by her side - David Williams, who also resides in Maui. I invited him over to teach a private class to our houseful of yogis, which provided us with a whole other glimpse into the history of Ashtanga yoga. David spent the first hour detailing his experience as one of Guruji’s students, and telling us how he then spent nearly 20 years practicing alone before he felt ready to teach and share his thoughts on yoga with others. He then led us through a Primary Series class, where the emphasis was solely on breath rather than form. Following asanas, we sat for pranayama, during which David expressed his current outlook on why he practices:

“Everyday, it is my goal to move a greater volume of oxygen through my body. That’s what makes me feel good.”

It was amazing to see David practice at 61 years old. A couple of days after our class with him, he came to Nancy’s to participate in Mysore with the rest of us. Watching him move from posture to posture, it was evident that the energetics of the asanas are much more important to him than the form. The majority of instruction I’ve received, conversely, emphasizes alignment and safety above all else. Neither Nancy nor David seemed as concerned with how a pose looked over how it felt to the practitioner. Yet, I found that their independent approaches to the practice varied more than they converged.

David has begun to take liberties: for instance, alternating which leg to fold in first for full lotus, or holding upward dog for five breaths during vinyasas between seated postures, which he believes brings balance to the forward-fold focus of Primary Series. Nancy and David would doubtfully ever teach together, despite having been students together. I don’t know if this should necessarily come as a surprise, yet it brings to mind just how much variance there must be amongst all the senior teachers who studied under Guruji over the years in Mysore, who now travel the world sharing the practice with others.

In India, I’ll be attending a retreat with Petri Raisenen, who began practicing Ashtanga yoga in the late 1980s, by all means a “new school” teacher compared to Nancy and David. Additionally, I’ve been told that his experience as a traditional Finnish folk healer and naturopath largely inform his teaching methodology. Undoubtedly, his outlook and approach will add further diversity to what I gained from Nancy and David in Maui.

After two weeks studying with Petri, I intend to seek out Rolf and Marci Naujokat, who reside and teach Mysore style in Goa. Everyone I’ve spoken to who has studied with the pair has told me this is an experience not to be missed. While I’m sure that by this point I may be reaching my saturation point when it comes to new information, I’m nevertheless excited to gain more exposure to principle figures in the global yoga community.

While there may be some contradictions and confusion heading my way as I learn from these different instructors - each a master in his or her own way - I’m pretty stoked to be immersing myself in so much knowledge and experience. I think that learning from various teachers provides deeper insight and fresh observation on how the practice serves the student. At the same time, it is vital to remember that the real teacher is the self. Instructors are essential, yet the only way of maintaining a practice that is truly one’s own is to be comfortable practicing alone, with one’s own breath and awareness as primary guides. By the time I get home in March, I think I’ll be ready for some self-practice time on my own, where I can sift through all that I encounter over these months of study. But for now, my mind is open and my body is ready - I’ll do my best to share what I learn as I go along, contradictions and all! Until then, happy practicing!