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Yoga's Spiritual Side

With enlightenment as its goal (even in its most perverted, Westernized form) yoga is quite obviously spiritual in nature. But what the heck does that mean?

"When I first started teaching yoga in the early '70s, I had to teach it in a way so that it was clearly understood to not be a religion, to not be following a guru," says Andrea Cartwright. "The Knoxville community thought yoga was a religion, and they thought it was some kind of weird worship. It has spiritual aspects to it, but at that time there was no distinction made between religion and spirituality. So I did not emphasize spirituality."

But, Cartwright notes, it is important that students understand that yoga does tend to bring up spiritual issues. "Yoga practice itself is just going to heighten awareness—there is a spiritual dimension, and yoga students are going to become more aware of that," she explains. "That might lead them in the direction of going back to their inherited religion, or to another different religion, or to a spirituality that doesn't emphasize religion at all. You don't know. But it is not a religion itself, and it won't change your religion if you are in a religion."

Almost everyone who's done yoga acknowledges that it does tend to bring forth some issues of spirit—or meaning, if you like—if only as a by-product of having stilled the chatter of the mind enough to let these larger issues seep through. In fact, local psychotherapist and meditation teacher Joan Harrigan—who did her dissertation on the effects of hatha yoga postures and diaphragmatic breath awareness on stress—offers a yoga care service to help individuals understand spiritual experiences and advance their spiritual development.

Local instructor Shanti thinks of yoga as a scientific method to produce the fruits of spiritual life. "Yoga is non-dogmatic—there is no belief system or credo," she says. "It is scientific in the sense that you get to experience it for yourself and decide what works for you. It is more about the qualities of spirit than about whether there is a god or not. Yoga cultivates things like peace, harmony, compassion, and love—and those are qualities that are said to be of the spirit."

Perhaps what it means is whatever you want it to mean—all that and much, much more. Instructor Ron Felix puts it succinctly: "I went into yoga from a physical level, but the deeper levels of yoga I wasn't looking for found me. I look at yoga and it's so great because I can have body conditioning, I can have aerobics, I can have strength building, I can have peace of mind—everything I want."

—H.D.

One reporter dares to ask: What is yoga? Who says? And why should you care?

by Hillari Dowdle

Here's the scenario: Yoga class is barely over, and I've just begun reawakening myself after a long relaxation pose when the lights go up and the video camera comes popping out. The teacher is going to a fitness expo, she explains, and would we all like to share our thoughts and feelings about yoga with her so she can share them with the world?

Instantly, I'm tense. I'm terribly camera shy and averse to forced enthusiasm. Clearly, I'm not getting out of the room without either A.) giving a glowing testimonial about how yoga changed my life; or B.) making a diva scene. Yes, I've spent the last two years cultivating a full-on addiction to yoga, and yes, it's benefited me in countless ways, even if I don't want to get rah-rah about them on camera. Still, I decide, the right choice is A. But where to begin?

I consider my options: It's completely solved my back problems—the reason I got into yoga in the first place. It's allowed me to become much more flexible, and chased away the annoying little hints of arthritis that had begun to visit my joints each winter. It's allowed me to have a much better sense of my own body. It's helped me develop balance and the rudiments of grace (a big deal to a clumsy girl like me).

It's given me surprising amounts of stamina and muscle tone. It's opened up new spiritual horizons for my crusty agnostic self. It's taught me to focus on the here and now, if only fleetingly. It feels great doing yoga, and even better afterward. But most of all—and this is what I eventually sputter out when the camera turns my way—it's taught me to relax and stay calm in the face of effort and challenge; to chase away (if only temporarily) those old mental demons, anxiety and depression. (And when you're borderline wacko, that's a precious gift indeed.)

But what does yoga mean, really? Any good teacher will tell you that yoga, literally, means "union" in Sanskrit, the ancient Indian language from which it is drawn. Originating, some say, nearly 5,000 years ago, yoga in the broad sense is a complete system of diet, health, devotion, service, study, meditation, and physical exercise aimed at creating the union of self and spirit.

Hatha yoga, the physical branch of this ancient science, is specifically about creating the union of body and mind. And hatha yoga, in case you haven't picked up a consumer magazine off a newsstand in over five years, is all the craze. It's recently been embraced by the medical community and by health insurers as a powerful tool for stress reduction and physical rehabilitation as well as a way to improve lung capacity, lower blood pressure, balance the endocrine system, and soothe nervous tension.

Plus, celebrities love it. Why, it helped whip Madonna back into shape after the birth of her child and opened up a new spiritual horizon for her. It keeps David Duchovny buff and ripe for further disgruntlement. It gives Sting a source of strength and inspiration to keep writing New Agey songs. It helps Courtney Love keep a handle on her figure and her sanity. For them, apparently, yoga means "new publicity tool."

But what does yoga mean when you're a non-celebrity living in a decidedly unglamorous, non-coastal town like Knoxville, Tennessee? As with many other national trends, yoga has been slow to hit its critical mass in Knoxville. But suddenly, yoga is popping up everywhere—in fitness centers and office buildings and college classrooms and church basements—offering a dizzying array of instructors and styles. But how to know what it's all about, really?

When my Metro Pulse editor posed essentially the same question (and attached the promise of a paycheck to the quest), it was karmically decided that I would go forth and find out. And so, in the name of research, I crammed 15 yoga classes into three weeks. Here's what I learned in the process.