I once saw a man balance on top of his head. No, I don’t mean he did a tripod headstand or anything like that. I’m talking, he stood on top of his skull with his hands planted on the mat behind him. His back arched into a perfect c-shape. His feet, in an active sort of suspension, completed the arc.

When he reoriented himself with the rest of us, I didn’t know whether I should clap or give my own neck a sympathetic massage.

Here was a person that walked into the room and changed the energy in the space around him. Physical capability and general “vibes” were only half of it, though.

During the workshop, I decided that I wanted to conserve my energy so I wouldn’t be totally wiped during my yoga teacher training class in the afternoon. (Honest translation: I was slacking off a little bit.) Despite the room being totally packed with practitioners, he somehow managed to notice that I wasn’t all-in and gently asked for my absolute presence in the moment. There’d be no skating by on his watch.

Yoga has a PR problem

It actually has a few PR problems, but the one I want to focus on today has to do with how we classify skill level and how this impacts the way see ourselves within this practice.

When we hear the word “advanced” in reference to yoga, most of us think of seemingly superhuman feats and teachers with hawk eyes. (Note: No matter how fancy the moves or how incredible the energy, the teachers are still people.)

We might think of the bendy, muscular individuals making beautiful shapes without seeming to break a sweat. This isn’t to pooh-pooh those people and their efforts. I can appreciate the physical, mental, and spiritual discipline that it takes to do the kinds of things I saw in the workshop. Physical aptitude is one of many potential outcomes of practice.

It’s cool if you're flexible and have been practicing for years. It’s just that the vast majority of us aren’t particularly bendy, and we don’t necessarily have any desire to balance on top of our heads. We might not see ourselves represented at all in this most superficial picture of what an advanced yogi is.

What about the rest of us? What about all those other limbs of yoga besides asana? The experience of pratyahara (withdrawal from the senses) doesn’t photograph particularly well. Flickers of samadhi (union of self; absorption into the now) are awe-inspiring, but they’re something that only the practitioner can understand. To describe them is to make projections that cannot encapsulate what occurred.

People can experience limbs such as pratyahara or samadhi without being able to make all the shapes. Their practice can be strong in ways that aren't immediately obvious. Likewise, being able to make good shapes doesn't mean a practitioner is enlightened.

A shifting definition of "advanced"

It wasn’t until I started teaching and therefore observing students and asking tons more questions of my teachers (and myself) that I came to appreciate what “advanced yoga” can look like.

When I taught, I saw students doing what they needed to make their practice work for them in that space and time. The people who felt secure in their practice modified without needing anybody’s go-ahead. They added steps. They took care. The students weren’t relying on me. I was just there to act as a yoga facilitator, but the journey they were taking was their own. I was surrounded by many advanced yogis.

When I asked Rex about what advanced yoga is, he told an anecdote that concluded with a definition in the form of a question, “Can you be sensitive to how you’re feeling from moment to moment?” That’s it. That’s the yoga.

Perhaps as we practice, we can tune in to how we are feeling for extended durations. Over time, we might become just as aware of what is happening in our inner world when placed in different circumstances as we are of our physical body on our mats. We might become so sensitive to our own thoughts that we can disrupt a destructive pattern before it has a chance to harm us. It sure doesn’t look as dramatic as standing on your head, but that’s advanced sadhana if I’ve ever seen it.

It’s not just Child’s Pose

Last week, I had the privilege of offering a few private, in-person yoga classes. (We followed all safety guidelines, of course.) When I asked the student if there was anything she wanted to work on, she said, “I’d like to do Child’s Pose.”

Now way back a million years ago, if you couldn’t do something in class, the yoga teacher would say something like, “If you can’t do this pose, then you can just take Child’s Pose,” or "Child's Pose is always there for you." It was sort of the catch-all. I myself just took many of these Child’s Poses while trying to learn. I’m also guilty of (and so sorry for) recommending students to just take Child’s Pose before I knew that just really is a four-letter word and that that's sloppy cueing.

For my student, and for many of you reading, it isn’t just Child’s Pose. This student in class last week had to have surgery for a torn meniscus a few years ago. She said that when she was recovering, she had to work to be able to straighten her leg and she also found it impossible to bend her knee for Child’s Pose. Her doctor informed her that if she was not able to restore the range of motion in that knee, she would walk with a limp for the rest of her life.

For many months, the student worked. She listened to her physical therapist. She attended yoga classes regularly under the advice of her PT. Eventually, she got back most of her range of motion. Today, she walks without a limp. On the mat, she appreciates Child’s Pose because it wasn’t always there for her.

While I was in my teacher role, I observed. I saw her engage in self-inquiry. I watched her take note of sensation and then make adjustments. She took care and did not compromise for the sake of looking any specific way. She was just as tuned in for seated meditation and pranayama as she was for the movement.

This is a person that had found a way to use the tools of yoga to create a sustainable mindfulness practice. She found the balance between challenging herself and appreciating the physical and mental space she was in at that moment. This is a person who will be able to practice for her whole life. This is an advanced yogi. Her request was Child's Pose.

Heading for calmer seas

It’s been said that all you need to practice yoga is two arms and two legs. I’m always quick to add that you don’t need two arms or two legs. You need yourself and your breath.

Patanjali says in the Yoga Sutras (1.2), “Yogas citta vritti nirodhah.” This roughly translates to, “Yoga is the calming of the fluctuations of the mind.” It stands to reason that an advanced yogi is the one that becomes adept at doing that very thing.

Notice how stillness manifests in your practice.