I have never met B.K.S. Iyengar and I am not an Iyengar
trained teacher. The stories of this
great being and his way of teaching and practicing are, however, the oxygen
that my own teaching and practice breathes.
His life has nourished the world in the way that our veins and
capillaries nourish our bodies out to the far edges. When I go to Durango, Colorado every year to
study with Patricia Walden, I am surrounded by Iyengar teachers who have been
studying at his school in Puna, for many years.
I find myself alternately sorry that I have not been able to experience
him and relieved.
The days following his death, I set up a small altar at the
front of the class to honor his life. On
the Thursday class, I “accidently” left a mat out on the floor beside mine. As I began the class, I suddenly noticed the
mat and laughed at myself. Someone in
the class thought I had done it intentionally for Mr. Iyengar. I moved the altar onto the mat. A short time into the class I suddenly felt
nervous, as if he was on the mat observing me teach. This feeling lasted about 5-10 minutes and
then was gone. I choose to assume he
paid us the honor of a visit on his journey.
B.K.S. stands for Bellur Krishamachar Sundararaja
Iyengar. I have to confess, it is only
now that I learned his full name. He was born on December 14, 1918 and died at
the age of 95 on August 20, 2014. His impact on the world is huge and as far as I can tell
from a distance, he was a man of great integrity. His rather sickly childhood
where he struggled with malaria, tuberculosis, typhoid fever and general
malnutrition, changed when, at 16 years old, he lived with the teacher who
brought to India a practice that synthesized ancient hatha practices and modern
gymnastics, Krishnamacharya. Patricia
Walden told us that on his 80th birthday he did 108 drop-backs –
dropping into urdhva dhanurasana (wheel) from standing. In his 90s however, he practiced more
supported backbends.
The well-known childhood story of his regaining his health
through his yoga practice and then giving this learning to his teaching, speaks
of taking the circumstances of one’s life and turning them into something great
– not so much great because he has become so famous but great because his
learning has become meaningful and something of beauty. I don’t know that I am as tireless in his
process of transforming life events into greatness but I take inspiration from
it.
The Iyengar system of teaching yoga is famous for its use of
props that are meant to help us attain the benefit of a pose when our bodies
are not quite able to find the necessary alignment. According to an article in the New Yorker, he
developed his use of props as a result of being asked by Krishnamacharya to
travel and demonstrate yoga and experiencing first hand the dangers of pushing
oneself into poses prematurely. Consequently,
he developed a slower, more systematic way of practicing including the use of
props.
One of the stories about him that make up my yoga world is
of him asking his assistants to put someone into a pose using props in a
particular way. When he turned to look at that person he said no, that is not
right, we must try another way. This capacity
to see so clearly and make adjustments according to that clarity of seeing is a
metaphor for how to live.
Last July in Durango, Patricia quoted Mr. Iyengar as saying,
“God is in the precision.” I have
thought about this again and again. As I
now begin learning Manual Lymphatic Drainage where my hands must be extremely
precise and sensitive, I think of it yet again in a different situation. Mr. Iyengar used great precision in the
alignment of poses and he is both highly respected for it and sometimes
criticized for it. He also teaches great
precision in the pranayama practice as to how one sits, moves ones skin and
places one’s fingers on the nose.
Sometimes I think I feel, rather than understand intellectually, what he
means by, “God is in the precision.”
Thank you, Bellur
Krishamachar Sundararaja Iyengar, for all that you have given to the
world.