My First Trip to Study with Sharath Jois in Mysore India

It has been over four months since my Indian guru’s untimely passing in Charlottesville, VA. Since then many things have surfaced online about him – many people with different perspectives. Some I agree with; many I don’t. Here, I am not offering an opinion, only notes lifted from my personal journal written in November and December of 2011, while I was studying with Paramaguru Sharath Jois at the Gokulum shala.

This was my first time ever traveling to India, and I wanted to experience yoga from the source. I thought it would be the only trip I would ever take to India – little did I know how much this trip would change me and instill a deep love for the country, its people, and, of course, my guru and Ashtanga. After this initial trip, I returned three additional times over the course of a decade.

A couple weeks back, I wrote about grieving Sharathji’s sudden passing from a massive heart attack in Charlottesville, VA, where I had traveled for a teacher training. We were two days into a five-day training when he passed away during a hike in the Blue Ridge Mountains, surrounded by his devoted yoga students.

All of this caused me to reflect on what he has meant to me over the years and what I have learned from him. And what better way to share that than within these notes?

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November – December 2011

I came here to do yoga. Why yoga? Personal growth, healthy living. To find peace in my mind. And balance. Always balance is difficult for me.

I traveled to India seeking knowledge. Knowledge about myself and this life, this world we live in. I am not as healthy as I wish I could be, in the mind or the body. Some of this is due to bad habits I cannot seem to break from. Some are caused by things about myself I cannot understand. I don’t have a lot of answers to many of my questions. This is why I am here.

I came to Mysore, the source of Ashtanga, for discipline. A practice is something you do every day or nearly every day. It helps to have discipline in other aspects of your life when you have a disciplined yoga practice and are in control of your mind. “Control the breath, and you can control the mind,” or so they say.

Let’s face it. Most of us cannot control our minds in our present state. We are mostly crazy, easily distracted, sometimes tempered, and full of worry or negative thoughts about ourselves or others. It’s difficult to think straight sometimes. It’s difficult to sleep sometimes. We improvise with coffee, Ambian, cigarettes, a little wine, a lot of beer, maybe some other drugs, maybe whiskey. Sometimes, we occupy our minds with obsessions, a lover perhaps, or a hobby that doesn’t give us much fulfillment, like watching TV or movies, playing video games, or tweeting.

I came here to be closer to God. Hindus believe we all have God inside us; we are all One. There are many deities in the Hindu religion, many of which represent different aspects of life, also known as Ishta-Devata. Hinduism teaches Edam Sadvipraha Baudha Vadanti, “While Truth is One, the Names are Many.” Having many deities (and many stories behind each deity) breaks down the complexities of life, allowing us to be inspired by a fragment of the all-encompassing Truth, also known as The Supreme. In this sense, Hinduism is a monotheistic religion.

Something I read recently noted that God is playing a big trick on us, having us search all over for Him when, all the while, he is inside of us, right under our noses! (From ‘The Only Way Out is In”, by Anthony “Prem” Carlisi)

So here I am, India — glorious India! It is beautiful. There are people, people everywhere – the women with so many colors of shawls and saris and flowers braided into their hair. Animals roam the streets — dogs, goats, horses, ponies, cats, birds, sheep, and, of course, the holy cows. Such a spiritual country is India! Blessings and flowers and markings on foreheads. So many are so grateful for so little.

Unfortunately, during my first week in Mysore, I only practiced at the shala (where we practice yoga) once due to a series of events beyond my control.  First, there was the full moon. There is no yoga on the full moon (or the new moon), for this is a day of rest. So, the day I arrived, the shala was closed. The next day, I registered but had to wait until the following day to practice.

I didn’t really know what to expect at the shala. I had heard good things, or I wouldn’t be here, but I also heard that it wasn’t all that *some people* made it out to be, nor would I receive all that much attention from the “guru.”

The “guru,” by the way, Sharath, is the grandson of the infamous Pattabhi Jois, who passed away a few years ago. Sharath is maybe 35 or 40, I am not sure. So, while he is from a different country, has been studying and teaching yoga most of his adult life, and has trained hundreds, probably thousands of people, in yoga, he and I are still from the same generation. And that somehow makes him seem more human to me.

Still, I am afraid of Sharath. Even though his boyish smile is charming, I feel more grateful in his presence than twitterpated. I am intensely fearful of this slender man for some reason. Maybe it is the awe factor.

The first yoga class I attended at the shala was a “led” class, meaning that Sharath calls out the poses as we do the practice, rather than doing the practice on our own and having him come around and individually adjust our poses (known as “Mysore-style”). I didn’t expect much attention to be paid to me, given that there were 70-80 other people in the class. But within minutes of beginning the practice, he came to where I was in full swing of going through the sun salutations.

“Where is your card?” he asked.

Ooops. “I left it in the locker upstairs,” I mutter.

“You are supposed to bring it every day,” he said disapprovingly. “When did you register?” he demanded.

“Yesterday,” I replied, thinking to myself … when I handed you 28,000 rupees that you put in your money counter.

He let it go, but it made me think, “Man, do people try to sneak in here? Is he so strict that he checks everyone’s card?” It kind of made me feel like I had just stepped into a shala more concerned with money than teaching people yoga. Not cool.

(Afternote: Later in the week, I discovered he wanted me to have my card so he could remember my NAME!! How cynical I am to have thought it was over money. How different the world suddenly is when you realize a busy, famous guru wants to know your name!)

As the practice went on, I tried to stay positive about the experience and focus on the practice, up until I got to the pose that I always stumble over (literally) and Sharath came back over to me,

“Are you beginner?”

“Well, I’ve been practicing for a while…” I sheepishly uttered.

Every person in the small echo-ey shala can hear our conversation.

“Well…. [South Indian head bobble kicks in] You look like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Ouch. Maybe I am in over my head. Everyone else here is like a well-trained soldier.

The next day, I got the times mixed up and missed practice. The day after that, I got my monthly, which means no yoga practice, as periods are also resting days.

So two days later, I returned to the shala, where dozens of students were waiting to get into practice, and Sharath was letting them in one by one. When my turn came, he looked at me and asked where my card was (of course!) I showed it to him.

He looked back up at me and asked, “Why you no come two days?”

“Ummmm…ladies holiday – ?” I was hoping I had the right answer.

He had a half smile on his face and let me in. What the hell? — does he remember EVERYTHING??!!

Apparently so because when it came time for me to do the pose I always topple over on – Uttitha Hasta Padangushtasana -he came right over and helped me with it.

Once I had moved on to the seated poses, I became confused about the sequence — which posture came next, so I paused to think about it. And then I hear his voice from behind, “No hesitating!” He comes over and says “See, I said no beginners!”

He asked me which poses I had done. I did not know the names of any of the poses.

“Tomorrow you go to Saraswati,” he told me. “Finish today but tomorrow do not come.” (Saraswati is his mother, who also holds yoga classes.)

Whoah. That’s a bummer. I came all the way here to do this yoga and paid all this money to travel to India and study with him … and he kicked me out on my second day. I begrudgingly went through some of the poses, and as I did, I started thinking about what had just happened and how terrible it was making me feel. And I was getting a little miffed. I had no idea how the process of coming to India to study with him worked, but from what I read on the website, I didn’t break any rules, and I did know most of the yoga poses; I had just never practiced the “Mysore” style with a regular teacher before now. All I knew was that I always wanted to come to India and practice with him since my first Ashtanga class eight years ago.

I saw an assistant standing nearby, so I told her what had happened. I said, “I don’t think this is right. I went through all the trouble to be here to practice with him.” Then, tears started welling up, and I could tell she felt bad for me. He heard us talking and came back over, and she kindly explained to him what I had said.

He asked, “Did you do this pose?” He demonstrated Marichasana B. “Show me,” he said. So, I showed him I could do it.

“And next one? “And after that?” he asked.

Again, I showed him I could do the pose, which was Marichasana D – a real challenge if you are a beginner, but I could slide into it easily.

“OK, OK, you pass,” he said, laughing. “You can stay!”

Whew! And I was in!

He moved my time to practice back 15 minutes, pointing out that “it’s less busy” at that time.

The next day continued without drama, but when it came time for my challenging pose, someone was there to help me. And he remembered me the next day, too, a led class. And it’s not just me; he does this with everyone and pays attention to everyone’s individual needs, which makes for an AMAZING teacher. This is what people are talking about when they talk about “Mysore Magic.”

When I first came here, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to wake up early in the morning, that I wouldn’t be able to drag my ass out of bed to go sweat in a room full of wacky yogis. Luckily, I don’t have an early start time, but even so, there is no way I would miss class again, at least not without a grand excuse. I love practicing in the shala. I feel amazing after the practice.

And I’ve met people here, too, and that establishes a sense of community. My new friends would know when I missed class, and I wouldn’t want to have to explain to them that I am truly lazy and not sure that I belong here, much less tell Sharath that.

My new friends are Kristina, from Detroit, and Marion, from Ireland. I met Marion on my first day here when I went to make a copy of my passport and visa to give to the shala, and she was doing the same. Since then, it seems I always bump into her when feeling lonely or lost. I take that as an omen that I am supposed to know Marion for some reason. I met Kristina the next day while we were both registering at the shala. The first day after practice, Kristina, Matthew, Morgan, and I climbed the 1,000 steps to Chimundi Hill – it was beautiful!

Ever since I began this journey or started thinking about this journey, things have fallen right into place for me. It began with storing all of my belongings. My good friends own an empty 25,000-square-foot building, which all my belongings easily fit. My friend Linda in D.C. needed a roommate for a month, so that’s where I landed first. While in D.C., I met her friend and downstairs neighbor, Laura. We drank a lot of wine on the porch steps that month. Laura had met a woman in Asheville, the next destination on my agenda, who she introduced me to over Facebook. That woman, Nicky, became a close friend with whom I practiced Ashtanga in Asheville for two months. Nicky introduced me to Mindy, who had already been to Mysore and studied with Sharath. Mindy was a fountain of knowledge and hooked me up with all the connections I needed for my arrival in India. Mindy also gave me her Indian cell phone to use. Once in India, I went to the cell phone place to get a SIM card for the cell phone she gave me. It was there that I met an Australian guy who just happened to be moving out of Mysore that day and offered to show me the place where he was staying that was for rent when I mentioned I was looking for a place to stay for the month. Wow! So here I am, living with Gita and Sri Shastri, a traditional older Indian couple, and Juho, a Finish yoga student, up the street from the shala.

(Afternote: I continued to stay at the Shastris every visit thereafter to Mysore and keep in touch with the Shastri family and their daughter, Bhavna, regularly. If I had never met my friend Linda’s downstairs neighbor, would I ever have met the Shastris?)

When you really want to do something or go somewhere, you will just meet people who will help you along the way. And everything will work out just fine.

This last week of yoga practice for me was really about dedication more than anything. It was hard to get up some mornings. It’s frustrating to be stuck on a pose for so long and not see much improvement. It’s frustrating not to get more individual attention from Sharath or the other assistants. But I wouldn’t say I’m forgotten, far from it. This is a self-practice, and a big part of the discipline in this practice is doing it yourself. On your own. Which is hard for me.  I always need someone to motivate me. But the motivation should be in doing the yoga itself. And letting me alone to do the practice is probably the best help I could get. I do not go through the entire primary series. Sharath always stops me at a point, telling me, “What is your hurry? I will teach you one by one”. He knows when I’ll be ready, so I’ll leave it to him to figure it out and just keep doing what I already know.

I do feel stronger. The last two days were holidays, as Friday was a full moon and Saturday was our regular holiday. I missed the practice; I woke each morning yearning for it. Like a good habit has already been instilled in me. Like a drug, a good one.

The rest of the week was filled with yummy Western breakfasts with other yogis, work from “home”, chai time, naps, reading, chanting, Sanskrit, learning about the Bhagavad Gita and Hatha Yoga, and sitar lessons and practice. In addition, my glasses cracked, and I had to deal with getting a new pair of glasses. Day-to-day, regular fun stuff. I still haven’t ventured very far by myself, but perhaps a day this week, I will take a rickshaw to the Devaraja market and find a musical instrument store.

I can see myself coming back here next year. Today is the first day it has rained since I’ve been here. It has been beautiful.

“What is your hurry? You have somewhere to go? One pose each day, I teach you.” This is what Sharath has said to me every day for the past week. I have some bad habits I’m struggling to get rid of…perhaps this is the approach I should take with them, one by one. Getting frustrated and angry with myself for not being able to stop every one of them is not working. There is no reason for me to get angry at myself…I am doing the best I can. So one by one, I will try to work on these issues instead of getting overwhelmed and saying fuck it and then starting the cycle all over again.

Sharath is still keeping a keen eye out on my practice. Today I felt very happy with myself, especially for completing all five counts of navasana. This is the pose where you balance yourself on your bum, hold your feet straight out with your toes pointed, and hold your arms straight out (not touching or holding up your legs). Today was the FIRST TIME EVER I’ve been able to do that pose for 25 breaths (that’s five breaths up, one breath down, five times — it hurts like a MF). It requires some strong abs, which I’ve never, ever had, being that I eat too many potato chips. But my abs must be getting stronger!!

Later in practice, I still felt proud of myself, though I was getting a little confused at the end as to the sequence of the poses or asanas. I started doing my finishing asanas when Sharath was like, “Did you do this pose?” making a hand-foot motion of the pose I was supposed to do, and I was like, “Yes … oh, crap, no!” He motioned for an assistant to come over to me and help…so she did, and I had to go back and do some poses again. Man! After being so proud of myself. But I can’t believe he noticed that I didn’t do it. Like, he was watching me… there are like 70 other people in there, all working at a different pace. Crazy. From talking with other students, they don’t feel they get any attention …but maybe their expectations were too high -? Maybe they want his help with every pose, as some yoga teachers can give this kind of attention if they have fewer students. Me, on the other hand … I’m happy if he glances at me once a week.

That said, I think he helps people he sees struggling. (And I am struggling!!) Many other yoga students already have a teacher, and I do not have a steady practice or teacher, so I think he is helping me because he sees that I need help.  

Tomorrow, I’m going to remember the poses. Hopefully, I’ll feel as great as I did today and be able to show Sharath I can remember the entire sequence. Maybe I’ll get brave enough to ask him to teach me Setu bandhasana. That’s the last pose in the series, a tricky one I’ve never tried before.

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I can’t believe I’m on a plane heading back to the States already. Time flew by in India, though everything seemed to come around full circle. My last day was so perfect. I had a great practice, which, for me, meant having a calm mind and taking my good ol’ time in each pose, savoring each like a good cup of coffee, like Sharath says that he does.

After practice, I picked up some random things to take home for people — chocolate from the Chocolate Man, bindis, and some more scarves. Then I had a double breakfast at Vivian’s…and some coffee from that French press… I love that stuff. Then, I had this overwhelming desire to write Sharath a letter, thanking him. I’m not quite sure why…I guess I needed to perform some mental activity to prepare myself for leaving, or I needed to feel like I had accomplished something by traveling all the way around the world.

The day before at the conference – this is when Sharath speaks to all the yoga students for about an hour or so on a specific topic and lets us ask questions – had asked us if we knew why we traveled so far to study yoga. One (lame) response came from the audience: “Happiness.” The answer made a lot of people groan. But no one else spoke up. It’s a little daunting to speak up in front of about 300 or 400 of your peers … so no one did. But I had the answer in my head that I wanted to blurt out at the time – TO UNDERSTAND MYSELF. Isn’t that why we’re all trying to do yoga? To get a better grip on our surroundings…to obtain self-awareness, be more present with God/the Universe? And that’s what I felt like telling Sharath in my letter, as well as how grateful I was that he allowed me to practice in the shala so that this whole process would be possible.

I felt a little nervous about mailing the letter — I mean, why not drop it off in person? I didn’t want to bring attention to myself; I didn’t want to take up any more of his time, which I’m sure is precious. Maybe I’m lazy. Maybe it’s part of me being shy, or feeling bashful. I just would’ve felt awkward dropping it off in person. I’m not sure if I did the right thing or not. Sharath is so busy…but still, I think he wants to have more interaction with the student than their big toe in his face. He lifts hundreds of bodies every day. It must be exhausting. Still, as I write this, I’m thinking I should have just manned up and taken the letter to him in person. Why wouldn’t I? Am I not special enough to hand Sharath a letter? I read a great quote today in Prem’s book…I can’t remember all of it, but it went something like “We are afraid to shine, afraid to shine for fear of feeling above our colleagues…but God is in us, and when we shine, when we allow ourselves to shine, we also help others to shine. We facilitate that.” So, we shouldn’t be scared to shine brightly.

After writing Sharath a letter, I walked down to Gokulum and bought some “hot chips”; they are so good and the reason my pants are not falling off of me completely. I don’t know if I lost much weight. I’m hoping I gained it in muscle, but I do know that my lower tummy and my abs have taken some sort of shape, and that shows in that my pants won’t stay up! I also bought some toiletries for an orphanage the yoga students help out with…a woman I met here, Cara, said some of the older girls at the orphanage were asking her about facial moisturizer and other things they don’t have easy access to. So I bought some supplies and dropped them off at Cara’s. And then Cara and I went to the Mysore Art Gallery. The top floor was pretty cool, with many unique and old Indian instruments. While I was up there looking at them, my sitar teacher called to wish me a farewell. How sweet he is. He cares so much and is enthusiastic about the sitar and about teaching the sitar.

Next up…Appu, the rickshaw driver, dropped us off at some place I decided I didn’t want to eat, so Cara and I walked to Tina’s…good old Tina’s! Nothing like ending my stay by eating at the very first place I ate when I first arrived in Gokulum. Afterward, we met the “gang,” or what was left of the “gang,” at Anu’s and Ganesh’s for smoothies and chai, and I had to have the vegan chocolate pie on my last evening! I met so many wonderful people, and they all came to see me off.

On my way to pick up my t-shirt from the tailor’s, I saw Shiva, the rickshaw driver, waving me over. The night before, I had left my travel diary, a book that my good friend had given me for my travels, in his rickshaw, and he knew I was leaving and made sure that I got it back. What a sweetheart Shiva is. His rickshaw is very bumpy, but he is such a nice man. I would’ve been so upset had I forgotten that diary!

I said goodbye to my housemate Juho and Geeta and Mr. Shastri, and before I knew it, my ride was outside the door, waiting to take me to Bangalore to catch my plane.

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