All yoga is perfect; each pose reflects our mind and body at its moment of execution.
These two dichotomies ripple through my mind in every yoga practice. I strive to make my postures deeper, stronger, more precise, yet I accept the limits of my being and how my body varies day to day. If I languor in lax acceptance, I may feel fine in the hot room but enjoy fewer benefits over the course of my day. If I press too hard, I distort the continuum of practice and risk injury. If I accept every posture as ‘the best I can do right now’ I set a very low bar, but if I define perfect yoga as the ultimate expression of every pose, it is so daunting I am not motivated to improve.
About six months ago I developed the notion that perfect yoga, for me, would be to execute all 26 postures to my best ability. That sounds easier than it is. In almost every class I sustain one or two poses to my maximum ability; it is not unusual to extend a pose to a new threshold. But there are always other postures where I fall short. I fall out or miss full height or depth. In theory I can achieve ‘perfect yoga’ because I have achieved each of its constituent parts at least once, but realistically, stringing my 26 best poses together in one sequence is an unlikely feat.
My crux for a perfect yoga practice is standing head to knee followed by standing bow; eight balancing poses in a row. It is rare for me to execute them all at my fullest depth without falling out at least once. I began to pay very close attention to how I do them. I realized that holding in my abdomen truly helps me balance in head to knee, and envisioning my standing leg sturdy as an elephant grounds me in standing bow. Week in and week out I focused; still every time I faltered; until one day two weeks ago, when I didn’t. I held each balance the full time at full depth. I was so excited on the eighth pose I could barely concentrate, but I threw the idea of a perfect series out of my mind and focused on that posture in that moment. Then I nailed it.
Since then I have fully executed those eight poses half a dozen times. I can foresee a time when it is the rule, not the exception, that I can maintain them. However, that does not mean that I have had six perfect classes, for there are the other 24 poses, and keeping them all at maximum ability is an ongoing challenge. In the past week my head got closer to the floor in separate standing hands to feet, my full locust got higher. The standard for prefect yoga gets harder with every class. I hit a plateau, and another rise emerges, beckoning me to pursue new heights.