Exploring the Asana

Kisen was slowly walking around Zen Ki as Zen Ki struggled to hold Virabhadrasana one. Sweat formed in multiple clusters and challenged each other as to which one could roll down his back the fastest before taking a one-way suicide dive to the floor below.

For Zen Ki’s part, all he was aware of was the exhausting burning sensation screaming from his body as muscle, limb and sinew all worked together to hold what he hoped was the perfect pose.

Kisen had other thoughts and tapped Zen Ki’s back leg, ‘Straighten it!’, then his arms, ‘Lift them up, straighter!’ Then his spine. Kisen’s fingers worked their way up from the base all the way up to his head, each time indicating an instruction to lift beyond what might be regarded as straight by mere mortal men. This was the realm of yogic gods. A pure and undefiled expression of the classical poses, each one crafted over eons of time, handed down faithfully from teacher to student in an unbroken line of succession, ensuring each succeeding generation of student received them pure and unsullied.

Finally Zen Ki couldn’t hold it anymore, dropped his arms flopped forward and then let his legs collapse into a heap on the floor. ‘Oh, my good god, I can’t hold that anymore it’s savage!’ He rolled on to his back only to meet his teacher’s gaze staring straight down at him. ‘What are you doing now?’

‘Resting!’ came the somewhat depleted but honest reply.

Kisen frowned, ‘How on earth do you expect to master the finer subtle arts of practice if you can’t even work with such a beautifully exquisite basic pose as Virabhadrasana one? It requires your complete attention to every detail, a full commitment to master it and an unwavering ability to surrender to the characteristics it has to teach. In this case they are…?’ He paused waiting for Zen Ki to respond.

Zen Ki looked up somewhat blankly, ‘Hmm, a good question for sure!’

‘They are?’ Kisen’s voice was more insistent this time as he pressed the point.

Zen Ki felt obliged to respond but for the life of him had no idea what to say. Worse still, before he could stop himself, he found words were already dripping from his lips and he could tell by Kisen’s face that they weren’t necessarily the right words, nor were they necessarily in the right order, and it could certainly be regarded as a matter of doubt as to if they were being received with delight.

‘Well, I’m not really sure, but my mate Debbie that I often have a ‘coffee and a slice’ with said her teacher doesn’t make her hold and work these poses like we do. They just fly through them and on to the better-looking ones!’

Zen Ki wasn’t completely sure, but he seemed to be aware that Kisen was grinding his teeth and was seemingly making a growling sound. ‘Perhaps he had a little asthma coming on, or perhaps a smite of bronchitis, tricky to know really!’ ‘YOUR MATE! YOUR MATE!’ Kisen was clearly about to explode. Zen Ki thought it prudent not to be lying on his back looking up at the ceiling in case any falling debris from what looked like a complete nuclear melt down were to come cascading upon him, so stood back up and struck the pose.

Kisen however regathered his composure and breathed in the heady aroma of the incense that helpfully had introduced itself to his nose just the moment before.

‘Look,’ He paused briefly, as if feeling for the right notes on a Steinway piano when performing a solo at the Royal Albert Hall in front of thousands and hoping that the audience might appreciate the intimacy between the artist and the very notes being played. ‘It really doesn’t matter what anyone else does. There will always be someone more flexible, stronger, more handsome, more this and more that. It’s what you bring to the practice that matters. The passion and desire to embody the attitudes of each pose, bringing them to life, seamlessly expressed through your very being as the Asana.’