07/06/2019
“Look at the two photographs of Parivrttaikapada Sirsasana and Parsva Sirsasana, some were taken when my physical prowess was at its height, the others when my yoga practice was mature.It is axiomatic that the shape of the self(svarupa)is identical to the shape of the body. Keep in mind that yoga is composed of practice (abhyasa) and renunciation of detachment(vairagya). Think of abhyasa as a centrifugal force, like a flower opening or a merry-go-round, and vairagya as a centripetal one, like a flower closing or the root of a tree spiralling down to pe*****te the hard earth. Now although these two words centrifugal and centripetal describe a relationship which exists in duality, it is not a duality of conflicting or antagonistic opposites, but a complimentary relationship of polarity. In other words if you had to draw a line to join them up, it would not be by a straight line but by a circle.
Look back at the first photograph of Parivrttaikpada Sirsasana. Can you see that in spite of all my skills, one leg is more dynamic (abhyasa, centrifugal ), the other more passive (vairagya, centripetal)? The list of their relative duality continues: one is exhibited, the other innovative; one is proud, showing off, the other humble and shy.
In the first photo of Parsva Sirsasana The legs are obviously thrown back, here the centrifugal energy is physically and dynamically expressed. Evolving nature has a centrifugal bias which tends towards the creation of multiplicity and therefore particularity. A centripetal movement leads towards integrity or oneness, hence universality.
What this photograph undoubtably shows is dharana in asana, an uninterrupted linear flow of intelligent concentration throughout the body. Intense alertness is quite visible. Where are those dualities now? Look at my legs. Is there any inequality? All dualities have been absorbed reconciled and resolved. This is dhyana in asana. The shape of the asana is meditative. Consequently the shape of the self cannot be otherwise.
There is a tale in Greek mythology of two mighty sea rocks, Scylla and Charybdis, either one of whose contact would destroy a vessel. The problem was for the ships helmsman to steer between them in order to navigate the straits. As we steer between extremes in our own practice and life, we are like that helmsman. Inevitably as beginners we want to generate energy and momentum, or speed through the water, so we pull nearer to abhyasa, or Scylla, where the current races fast. Seeing where that might lead we edge over towards vairagya, Charybdis, where the current is slacker but treacherous rocks are concealed, so we must redouble our watchfulness. At this moment the helmsman’s hand rest lightly on the tiller but his eyes remain sharp. There is an expression, ‘The price of freedom is eternal vigilance.’ Likewise must we, aiming in yoga for the goal of freedom, never relax our vigilance.”
BKS Iyengar : Astadala Yogamala : Vol 2
