Fred is hands down the least flexible person I’ve ever encountered. In 28 years of teaching asana, I’ve never seen anyone who came close to his lack of mobility. His Uttanasana (Standing Forward Bend) was little more than a forward nod. Before coming to my classes, he had not sat on the floor since childhood, and required tall stacks of blankets to do so. But he didn’t mind using props for every single pose. They helped him feel more relaxed. He came to my classes weekly for more than two years, and consistently reported how much better he felt because of yoga and what a difference it made in his life.
Fred had other physical issues as well. He had clubfeet, making balancing and standing poses very challenging. But he was happy to make use of the wall. His biggest physical challenge though was one that in retrospect might have been an advantage, at least for asana practice in the context of a class. Fred was blind.
Fred’s experience of asana was completely internal. He had no idea how inflexible he was because he couldn’t see what everyone else was doing. He was free from the idea that he “couldn’t do yoga because he wasn’t flexible,” a statement all yoga teachers have heard from reticent students. Fred’s practice was entirely in the moment. His restrictions were not something to be ashamed of; they were simply felt sensations. What the rest of us interpreted as limitations in his body held no charge for him. In some ways, his practice was the purest of any I’ve seen.
If Fred had been able to see himself compared to others around him, he likely would have come to one class and never returned. But because he was unable to compare himself to others, he was completely content with his practice. He understood the true value of practice—that it can add a measure of grace to your movements through life.
TKV Desikachar said, “The success of yoga does not lie in the ability to perform postures, but in how it positively changes the way we live our life and our relationships.” Yoga asana is an incredible healing technology. The melding of breath and movement can revitalize us as it smooths out edgy nervous systems. When practiced with humility and mindfulness, it can change the way we live in our bodies, creating an environment that can facilitate the transformation of our minds and emotions.
But these benefits have absolutely nothing to do with whether or not we can perform fancy poses or how far we can push our bodies into standard poses. In fact, the sutras’ definition of mastery of asana says nothing about performance: “[Asana] is mastered when all effort is relaxed and the mind is absorbed in the Infinite.” If this is what mastery is, anyone living in any body can master asana. What is required is, in my experience, much more challenging than simply performing fancy poses. What’s required is a mind/ego that can be present, without preference or longing for “more” or “better.” It is the calm presence that can be with what is no matter what our pose—or someone else’s—looks like.
This is the lesson that Fred taught me. Despite his barely moveable body, he embodied mastery of asana. He left class with a peaceful mind that continued throughout the week. No inversions, backbends or toe-touching (or even knee-touching) required. Fred’s gift was his presence and his gratitude, gifts that do not fade as our bodies age and evolve. May we all discover this timeless grace.