Finding Freedom in the Ashtanga Practice

The ancient yogic texts speak of two fundamental forces – raga (desire) and dvesha (aversion) – as primary sources of our suffering. We grasp at what we want, resist what we don't, and in this constant push and pull, we lose our peace.

The Ashtanga Yoga method offers us a unique laboratory to observe these patterns. Every time we practise, we meet the same sequence, the same poses, the same challenges. Some poses we eagerly anticipate, others we quietly dread. One day, we long for the intensity of backbends; and the next day, we wish to skip them entirely. What's fascinating is how these likes and dislikes often exist purely in our minds. The pose itself is neutral; it's our mental labelling that creates the experience of pleasure or pain. And very often, these mental constructs run deep. We decide we "can't do" certain poses before even trying them. We label ourselves as "not flexible enough" or "not strong enough." We create elaborate narratives about why we love or hate particular parts of the practice. Yet when we look closely, we begin to see that these are just ideas that we create in our minds. As we show up each morning to the same sequence, we start to notice how changeable these mental labels are. A pose we convinced ourselves we would always hate suddenly feels different. A posture we thought we needed might become less important. The physical reality of the practice remains the same – it's our mental relationship to it that shifts.

What makes the Ashtanga practice so powerful is its unwavering nature. It doesn't bend to our preferences. The sequence remains the same whether we like it or not, offering us daily opportunities to observe our minds spinning stories of likes and dislikes. Through this consistent container, we start to notice how our aversions often mask our fears, and how our desires sometimes stem from our ego. And if we are able to move beyond our aversions and desire, we learn to hold space for the poses we once avoided, and to let go of the ones we once craved. The practice becomes less about achieving particular poses and more about observing our relationship to each moment.

On days when the body feels heavy and the mind resists, we practice anyway. On days when we're eager to push further, we practice restraint. Slowly, we begin to find a middle path – neither pushing away nor grasping, but simply being present with what is. It's a teaching that extends far beyond our mats. In our daily lives, we encounter our own versions of challenging poses – difficult conversations, unexpected changes, moments of discomfort. The practice trains us to meet these moments with the same steady presence we cultivate on our mats. This wisdom becomes particularly poignant when we face significant transitions in life. Just as we learn to navigate our relationship with challenging asanas, we begin to observe how we meet life's bigger shifts. Do we resist change with the same tension we hold in difficult poses? Do we chase after certain experiences with the same eagerness we pursue "advanced" postures? The practice reveals these patterns about ourselves with so much clarity. Perhaps most beautifully, this consistent practice shows us that change often happens in the spaces we least expect. It's rarely in the poses we eagerly anticipate, but rather in the ones we habitually avoid, that we find our deepest growth. The postures that challenge us most become our greatest teachers, revealing layers of resistance, fear, and attachment we might never have discovered otherwise.

As we continue this journey, we begin to understand that the real “advanced” practice isn't in the complexity of postures but in the simplicity of presence. It's in our ability to meet each breath, each movement, each moment with clarity and an open heart. It doesn’t matter if we're facing a challenging asana or a difficult life situation, the invitation remains the same: to stay present, to observe our patterns, and to find freedom in accepting what is.

The goal isn't to eliminate preferences – they're a natural part of being human. Rather, it's about developing the awareness to see them clearly and the steadiness to not be ruled by them. The yoga practice is a journey toward this freedom – the freedom to be present with whatever arises, beyond the endless swing of likes and dislikes. This is the true heart of yoga: the journey towards a state of being where we can meet life with our full presence.

In warm presence,

Merdin