There’s a need to remind everyone in class to remain attentive to the method, and to value it. I often notice elements creeping into some people’s practices that appear a bit odd. They’re not what I have taught, so what might they be – experimental attempts?
It’s not necessarily anything dramatic – if it had been, I would have stepped in immediately in my role as a teacher – but sometimes there are unwise choices that could end up leading to injury, energy depletion, and other errors in the approach. I’ve given many examples of this in class talks.
My sense is that these attempts come from old habits: default body placements learned from other yoga classes where “anything goes,” and where postures appear by imitation rather than by method. These patterns can creep in quietly, without anyone noticing, and they tend to reassert themselves when we’re not fully attentive.
Sometimes questions arise about whether a particular asana is “correct.” It’s important to remember that asana are always works in progress, always in refinement. What I can offer you at any moment is based on your stage of practice, how you are applying the instructions, your alignment, and what your breath and stability allow right now.
I am observing everyone’s practice – every class – and I offer guidance where it is genuinely needed and where it will actually support your development. I try to feel what you’re doing: sometimes I wince a bit, sometimes my eyebrows lift, and sometimes there’s a genuine “yes, that’s it.” I also allow space, because part of learning is feeling your way into the posture, recognising what is stable and what is not, and becoming more sensitive to your own patterns.
I try to choose my moments carefully. A correction is only useful when there is receptivity, when it will clarify rather than confuse. Growth in yoga takes time, consistency, and a degree of trust in the method. If you stay steady, you will feel the changes. As I often say in class, there is no doubt that yoga makes a substantial difference to the one who applies it.
I was speaking with my own teacher recently. He saw a large group online supposedly practising Ashtanga. His comment was simple: “Many of them are bendy and stretchy… but none of it is Ashtanga yoga.” It looked the part for marketing purposes, but the method itself was nowhere in sight.
This certainly doesn’t apply to most of you — but even so, I thought the old bamboo story might help clarify what we are doing here, and why we go step-by-step, carefully and patiently, wherever you are in the practice.
The Bamboo Story (one of many) – A Lesson in Hidden Growth
There is an old story often told in China about the bamboo plant. When you plant certain species of bamboo, you water them every day, tend the soil, give them sunlight, and protect them from pests. And then… nothing happens.
Not for one month.
Not for one year.
Not for two or three years.
For almost four full years, the earth looks the same.
People often give up at this stage.
“It’s not growing.”
“It’s not doing anything.”
“What’s the point?”
But the farmer knows better.
He continues watering.
Then, in the fifth year, something remarkable happens: the bamboo suddenly shoots upward – sometimes 20 to 30 metres in just a few weeks. What took so long?
The answer is simple: for four years, the bamboo wasn’t growing up – it was growing down.
It was building a strong, interconnected root system, preparing itself for the extraordinary upward growth that was to come. Without those roots, such rapid expansion would be impossible. The whole structure would collapse under its own ambition.
Why this matters to your yoga practice
Yoga works in much the same way.
In the early months (and for some, years), the changes aren’t always visible.
The poses might not appear fancy.
The range of movement might feel quite modest.
Some days, you may genuinely wonder if you’re getting anywhere at all.
But underneath, something essential is happening:
the breath is becoming steadier
the nervous system becomes less reactive
the subtle stability of bandha begins forming
patterns of distraction slowly weaken
the mind learns to stay
the joints strengthen in quiet, intelligent ways
confidence grows in real time, not imagined time
These are the roots.
And roots take time.
When someone rushes ahead, adding messy postures they’ve seen elsewhere, or attempting shapes their joints aren’t yet ready for, they’re essentially trying to force the bamboo to grow before the roots exist. It doesn’t end well. Knees and sacrum suffer first; breath becomes ragged; practice becomes agitation instead of yoga.
The paradox of progress
Ironically, the students who progress the fastest are not the ones who try to accelerate the sequence or collect postures.
They are the ones who:
show up consistently
work carefully
breathe correctly
accept instruction
allow the “roots” to form
Once the foundation is there, growth suddenly becomes very natural – and very stable.
So, the reminder this week is simple:
Please keep practising what has been given to you, and don’t add postures that haven’t been introduced in the Ashtanga Yoga Shala class. Not for my sake, but for yours. The method works – beautifully – if you trust the process long enough for the roots to develop.
Your bamboo is growing, even if you can’t yet see it above the surface.
Once, Arjuna the warrior, was receiving instructions: ‘shanaih shanaih uparamet…..’
shanaih – slowly, …. shanaih – again slowly, gently, little by little, uparamet – to become quiet…..
It didn’t mean to “stop practising” or “stop acting”, but rather “allow the mind and body to quieten into their rightful place.”
Patience is not optional; it is the method.
Arjunas teacher, the Purushottama Yogi, deliberately uses the double “shanaih shanaih” to show that progress is not forced. Anything violent, rushed, lacking due attention, or ego-driven, collapses – much like the bamboo that shoots prematurely without roots. Uparamet implies that clarity arises not from “doing more” but from “un-doing” what disturbs the system.
So, little by little, may the practice settle into us.
Step by step, with patience and steadiness, the roots form.
From those roots, the true posture grows.”