I’m sitting in a local coffee house, quietly sipping on a cup o’ joe. While absorbed in some arcane and not so stimulating yogic texts, I’m jolted back to the here and now by a surprised voice:

“E!”

“Huh, what, what did I do?” Is the first thing that goes through my head. I look up to see the smiling face of a good friend and Yoga Pura student, Emily (the names have been changed to protect the innocent—except mine of course).

“Emily,” I smile, “How’ve you been? Long time no…” She cuts me off.

“I know, I know. I’ve just been so busy!”

Apparently, one of the secret yogic powers I’ve developed through my years of practice is the ability to spontaneously and involuntarily plunge people into guilt regarding their yoga practice.

“Yeah, I know what you mean; life can get in the way sometimes.” I reply trying to let her know that it wasn’t my intention to berate her for her absence from the studio. It doesn’t seem to work:

“I’ve got to get back in there. I can’t tell you how great I feel when I’m practicing my yoga regularly. Everything just shifts.”

I smile. If you gave me a nickel for every time somebody told me how much better they felt as a result of their yoga practice, well, let’s just say that we’d all be practicing on gold-leaf floors with personal assistants attending to our props and wiping the sweat from our brows.

“It’s just with work and the kids and keeping up the house and now the holidays—I just can’t seem to find the time.” Emily continues. “But as soon as the holidays are over, you’ll see me in the studio again.”

Yet then again, if you took back a nickel for every time somebody told me how busy their life was and that they’d be back as soon as things calmed down, I’d be on the welfare rolls.

“I’m going to make a commitment to my yoga.” She says with finality.

Uh oh, she dropped the “C” bomb, the dread word: commitment.

“Well, Em,” I say tenuously, “I’m glad you’ve got some clarity around the benefits that your practice is showing in your life, but to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t recommend making a commitment to yoga.”

“You wouldn’t?” she shoots back quizzically. “Why not?”

“Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against commitment, however the trouble is, that more often than not, we commit to the wrong thing,” I say, “and as surprising as it may seem, committing to your yoga practice, is committing to the wrong thing.”

“But why shouldn’t I commit to it? Yoga makes my whole life work better.”

“Precisely!” I say.

“Precisely what?” she asks, “Now you’ve got me confused.”

“I say precisely, because you just hit the nail on the head. You said that yoga makes your whole life work better, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“The implication is that if it didn’t, you wouldn’t feel yoga to be important to you, would you?”

“No.”

“In fact, if it didn’t have such a positive impact, you might not practice at all?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t,” she says, “I’ve got a busy life. But what are you driving at?”

“My invitation to you is to see that you’re not interested in yoga per se; you’re interested in your life working better: better relationships, better health, being a better mom.”

“Yeah…” she looks at me like I’m an idiot.

“So, if you commit to yoga, you’re committing to the wrong thing. You don’t care about yoga; you care about your life.”

“Okay, I think I’m with you, but still what difference does it make what I commit to as long as I do the practice?”

“How do you feel about your toothbrush?”

“What?”

“How do you feel about your toothbrush?”

“Well, to be honest with you, I don’t think about it much.”

“Yes, but do you brush your teeth everyday?”

“Of course.”

“You mean you haven’t made a commitment to your toothbrush, yet you brush your teeth everyday?” I ask, feigning astonishment.

“Yes, of course.” Her impatience grows.

“And I’d imagine you do so because you realize that brushing improves your life: keeping you out of the dentist’s office, pain free, and able to eat whatever you want?”

“Uh huh, but I don’t get what this has to do with yoga.”

“This is the thing, Em. You brush your teeth because you realize, and I mean really realize, that to do so makes a hugely positive impact on your life. And even when you’re tired, in a hurry, or otherwise distracted, you still brush your teeth—because of this realization.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious.”

“How often would you brush your teeth if you did so out of a commitment you made to your toothbrush?” I ask. “I mean, lacking the conscious knowledge of its impact on your health and your life.”

She gives me a look.

“For example, if the kids need help with homework, it would be pretty easy to rationalize helping the kids over your commitment to a piece of plastic, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, but I don’t brush my teeth because of a promise I made to my toothbrush. I do it for me.”

“Aha!”

“Aha what?”

“You do it for you, for your life.”

“And…”

”And that’s what I’m wanting you to get: your toothbrush is simply a tool or a device to allow you to live a better life; likewise your yoga is also just a tool to help you live a more fulfilling life. To make a commitment to your yoga practice is as inane as making a commitment to your toothbrush. And more importantly, if you expect yourself to keep a promise to a series of ideas and techniques that came from a far off land over and above what matters most to you, well, let’s just say the odds aren’t great.

“What I’m inviting you to see is that your practice is a tool that helps your relationships, your parenting, your job performance, your appreciation of everything that arises in your life. And really see it, in fact feel it. Yoga is a gift that can be used not for its own sake, but for the sake of your life and everything it means to you.”

“Okay.” She replies, bit more engaged now.

“So don’t make a commitment to some esoteric practice from the East. Instead, make a commitment to yourself, make a commitment to your life, realizing that one of the best ways you can uphold that commitment is through your yoga practice.

“This way when your life becomes busy, hectic, or overwhelming, your yoga practice won’t be the first thing to go—because you really understand that it’s the practice that will help you move through the chaos with grace and élan.”

“Élan?” she mimics, “nice word.”

“Thanks.” I chuckle.

Emily ponders.

“You know what E?”

“What?”

“That’s exactly what’s been happening for me!” I can see the recognition in her eyes. “Whenever anything else comes up, I immediately look for things I can cross off my list, and my yoga practice is one of the first that drops by the wayside.”

“And?”

“And as a result things seem to get more hectic, and more busy, because I’ve lost my center.”

Pay dirt! “You’ve got it.” I say.

Emily smiles. “So all you’re saying then, is to shift from viewing yoga as yet another thing I should be doing, and move toward thinking of it as a tool that assists me to do everything I’m already doing—but helping me to do it better and with more ease.”

“That’s all. And as a result you won’t be tempted to drop it off the list so easily.”

“Like my toothbrush?”

“Yes, like your toothbrush. Your toothbrush is to the health of your teeth as your yoga is to the health of your life.”

A sudden look of worry comes over her face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“But what about flossing?”

I smile. “Let’s not worry about that just yet.”

“Fair enough,” she smiles. Exit guilt, enter clarity. “Well, then I guess I’ll see you sooner than I thought.”

“I look forward to it.” I raise my cup to seal the deal.

Emily, still smiling, turns and walks out the door. A new lightness and ease in her step.

I rest back in my seat and take a sip of my coffee. I smile to myself, thinking: now, that’s yoga in action.

Blessings to all,

E

Yogi E, a.k.a. Eric Walrabenstein is the founder and director of Yoga Pura in Phoenix, AZ. He is the architect of Yoga Pura’s year-long Advanced Studies Program and trains yoga teachers nationally. E regularly travels the country holding workshops on the process of enlightenment and translating ancient yogic truths for daily living. He is currently at work on a book on unreasonable happiness.

Copyright 2006, Eric Walrabenstein, all rights reserved.