Yoga + Music Series: Dharma and Duty for Musicians

I've been thinking a lot about the yogic concept of Dharma recently. It was something we discussed in my yoga teacher training in the Fall with Noah Mazé and Rocky Heron, and it landed on me like a snowflake that just wouldn't blow away. 

It is a tricky term to define precisely, and many people interpret it to mean a variety of different things, so I’ll draw on a few sources to narrow it down to what I've been pondering. 

(Also, I use these blog posts are an opportunity to discuss my relationship with music and yoga, so bear that in mind as you read this post). 

Definition of Dharma in Merriam Webster

1 Hinduism: an individual's duty fulfilled by observance of custom or law

2Hinduism and Buddhism 

a: the basic principles of cosmic or individual existence: divine law

b: conformity to one's duty and nature

In the Bhagavad-gītā, Dharma is used in place of the word duty. It comes up in regards to Arjuna's moral quandary – battle or no battle. Krishna tells him he must fight because it is his duty, his Dharma. 

It is an interesting question to ponder; what is my duty? In the context of Arjuna's life, it is his duty based on his class – meaning, he was born into the warrior class, therefore he has no choice but to go to battle. But technically, this type of class system doesn’t exist anymore. Or if it does, it isn’t nearly as strict. So what does one make of Dharma in the modern context? What about as a musician? Is being a musician in the present day some sort of chosen “class” or is it simply a profession?

I often think that creating a life in music begins as a higher calling. You might not know why you enjoy it, but you do. Music, regardless of genre, era, instrumentation, etc., can be so compelling as a listener, creator, collaborator, or performer that it might be challenging to articulate what first drew you to the sound or instrument, but there is a power to it that holds your attention. Being a musician often becomes something of a duty, it can feel like our nature. 

In my case, I felt compelled to play the violin when I was four or five years old. From that point on, it became an indelible part of who I am as a person. I didn’t know at that age what kind of violinist I wanted to be; I just loved the sound. But as I pursued a life in music, the path grew narrower as my interests seemed to grow broader. Is my Dharma simply to play violin? Or is it to play violin in a specific ensemble or genre? Is it my duty to be a violin teacher? How did my calling get so intricately bound to a job description?

With the added time to ponder and reflect during Coronavirus and social distancing, I've been wrestling with these questions. I'm finally awakening to the realization that music takes up a bigger space than just a job in my life, and while being a musician might be my duty, it might not always be my job (and sometimes my musical job, is not my dharma). When I admitted that last part to myself, it was terrifying. How could I be a musician and not make music for a living? 

I've been sitting with that question daily and have come to this conclusion: collecting payment for work isn’t the same as having a mission or a purpose. If I don't like my musical job, but I am a working musician, am I fulfilling my Dharma? I don’t think so.

So what's missing?

 The Why

The why drives everything. 

We start everything with the WHY.

Return to the WHY

When I was a kid, I loved playing the violin. I loved the way it sounded, and I loved the repertoire. I loved my teacher, and I was unaware of the mind games or the weird politics of gig life. I wasn’t aware of the total devastation of losing countless auditions and questioning my self-worth. I simply did what I loved. 

Often, the journey makes the WHY less clear. We get caught up in the present, in whatever is happening in our environment or how we feel about a specific gig, job, student, or employer. We get distracted by our immediate needs and wants. Often, we question our worth and credibility because we are trying to force our existence into a culture that doesn't care about our individual nature. We forget why we started on this path to begin with, and sometimes we get blown off course. What WAS our duty, is now our occupation but it no longer aligns with our intrinsic nature. Does that make sense?

So how do you reconnect to the WHY?

I don’t have the answer for this but I see glimmers of it all the time. 

In a lesson taught with an attentive and engaged five-year-old.

On tour in Europe with non-classical musicians.

In a practice session when nobody is listening but the music seems to come from somewhere deep inside.

While focused on a project I am deeply passionate about.

While I cannot explicitly articulate my duty, I realize that my nature is to be a musician. You may think those are the same thing (see definitions above) but I think there is nuance.

My nature is to be a musician but the HOW is my duty.

HOW I make music and exist as a musician comes from having a clear WHY. Working with a clear vision and path forward is what I believe the essence of Dharma really is in our modern-day society.

I used to wish my Dharma was to be the best violinist; To win. To be the soloist everyone adores or the teacher everyone wants to study with, but I've come to realize my Dharma lives in the shared spaces that surround music. In the friends you make, the joy you bring to others, the transformation you provide to students, the collaborations you share, the community you create, and the stories you tell that create a shared experience through music. 

My Dharma has no job description.

So, where is the job market for Dharma that lives in the cracks around a vocation? If music is my nature, and I feel most called to inhabit unspecified spaces, what does my authentic path forward look like, and how do I define success?

How do all of my interests and passions converge to create my duty? How does my nature shape my life? 

This is what I’m pondering.

Stay tuned.

I'm a Yoga Teacher now (almost). So What?

Hello, and welcome to my rant about yoga culture in the United States and why I finally decided to become a certified teacher. This blog post is minimally edited on purpose. I am confused about yoga teachers' role in society, and I have mixed feelings about adding my name to that pot. So Buckle up and enjoy the tirade.

I did it. I finally enrolled in a Yoga Teacher Training course. Soon, I, too, will be another 200-hour certified yoga teacher ommmm-ing through zoom and posting inspirational quotes on Instagram.

I've been shoving my body into shapes without a certificate for years, but it never felt authentic. It didn’t feel true to my essence. I need this certificate to legitimize my yoga experience. Until now, I have been a well-researched fraud. I have been a body consumed by inauthentic asanas. Finally, my yoga practice, research, and the benefits I receive from yoga will be validated. I can evolve and count myself as one of the enlightened beings destined to walk this earth in pursuit of the perfect pair of yoga pants.

Okay, I kid. Maybe I went too far. I love yoga. I’ve practiced yoga for over 15 years in all shapes and sizes, and I derive enormous benefits from the practice. I am incredibly excited to take my education and understanding to the next level. Still, I am also aware and somewhat annoyed by the notion that anyone who wants to pay can just become a certified teacher. Where is the lifelong commitment? Where are the pre-requisites? Shouldn’t there be an audition process? Is this just a money-grabbing scheme by yoga teachers and studios? What, you thought it was cool for 6-months, so you took a course online or went to some exotic yoga retreat halfway around the world and became a teacher? Nobody thought to say, “hmmm, that’s great. Why don’t you study a little harder and take this placement exam first?”

In the classical music world, you would never pick up a violin and think, "wow, this is cool!" and then enroll in a violin teacher training program a few months later. This is the antithesis of what we learn in music school. And the honest truth is, I kind of agree, and I'm not sure I'd want to go to that class. But this seems to happen in yoga teacher training, and it really frustrates me…along with a few other things.

The honest truth is that I’m not interested in swilling beer while I flow. I don’t want to go to your booty-sculpt class. I don't prioritize the calorie burn of my yoga practice, and I vet yoga teacher knowledge and experience before I show up for class. I read bios, and if possible, check websites… and to be clear, I bet that if snotty me read my own soon to be yoga-bio, I probably wouldn't go to my own classes either.

I want a yoga teacher, and I want to BE a yoga teacher whose practice has evolved and stood the test of time.

You know why? Because the general public trusts yoga teachers too much.  

• We trust them to know everything about how the body works.

• We trust them with our physical pain,

• WE trust them with flexibility issues.

• We trust them with spiritual guidance.

• We trust them with nutritional advice.

• We trust their product and service recommendations.

• We trust their views on lifestyle choices.  

…and so much more.

I know this because I have done this and still do it to this day. I’m just a little more discerning about whose advice I want and am willing to listen to. So when I look for a yoga teacher, I want someone who has LIVED his or her advice and worn it for years before espousing it as tried and true. I don't want help with pelvic stability from someone who goes hard on a Friday night (no offense) and checks their phone while teaching class – yes, I've been to that class. Just because you can nail a handstand does not mean I want your input on politics. I don't want a hands-on adjustment from a teacher who can't explain what they are "assisting with." I certainly don't want you to tell me that to improve my energy levels, I should join you on a juice cleanse...because most likely, you are just starving.

As a yoga student, I have experienced all of these things. I have listened to these voices in my community and viewed them as leaders in the wellness world and then drove myself crazy, trying to follow their advice. It can be like fitting into a dress 3 sizes too small. No matter what, it’s not going to be pretty and definitely not comfortable.

With our idealized body shapes, beauty standards, flexibility paradigms, and obsession with wellness fads and trends, our society has done a disservice to the general public by lionizing and augmenting yoga teachers' social currency—especially young yoga teachers. I mean no disrespect to these teachers, but I pray to effing god or the Buddha or whatever the coolest trendiest spiritual being out there is that I do not become this. I do not want this, I don't want the students who want this, and I am not interested in perpetuating this culture. It is unhealthy and toxic and benefits nobody except the athletic wear companies.

I have changed. The world has changed. Things that were easy in my early 20s are more challenging now. I am not interested in going to a hanumanasana workshop with a yoga teacher who used to be a competitive gymnast. I can’t relate, and never could, to their physical experience, and chances are they can’t relate to mine either.

At this point, you may be thinking, "Wow, Hannah, is there anything you DO like about yoga? You really seem to dislike quite a bit about it."

Why did I do this training if I scoff and laugh and roll my eyes, and go on a tirade about yoga teachers? Why bother?

Well, many reasons.

I recognize that yoga is not a cure for everything, and yoga teachers are not doctors. I know that yogis are attracted to different aspects of the practice. Yoga has so many benefits, but it cannot cure ALL that ails. However, it offers many benefits, and those benefits outweigh the negative qualities that I have (not so) eloquently highlighted above that exist in association with the practice. Here are some of the reasons why I am proud, excited, and honored to be on my way towards the title of Yoga Teacher.

• I wrote my dissertation about it (you can download a copy here), specifically about Iyengar Yoga and violin playing. Ideally, I would love to be an Iyengar teacher, and one day I will (bucket list). However, this process is long and intensive – as it should be – and very tricky to fit around the fiddlings of a freelance musician. While I derive many benefits from other yoga styles, Iyengar Yoga brings me peace and calm, I find nowhere else.

• I have wanted to get certified as a teacher for over 5 years.

•  There is always more to learn.

• I love yoga. I derive enormous mental and physical benefits from daily practice. I want more people to have this experience, and if I can, I want to help them find it.

• Yoga is an excellent tool to investigate the self. I want to further my own exploration, and also be able to facilitate a small part of that for others.

•  I want to feel more confident in sharing my knowledge with others. Similarly, I want my students to feel comfortable with my credentials as a teacher.

• Now that I am halfway through this training, I realize how much I still didn't know about yoga – the traditions, philosophy, origins, etc. I am appreciating that by deepening my own awareness and education, I can help others more fully.

•  I love teaching and educating. I love facilitating growth and creating a safe, comfortable, and enjoyable place for people to come together.

• Sharing what I love with people who want to learn about it is one of the simple pleasures of my life. Whether we are talking about tea, violin music, yoga, fiction, or anything else, the fact that people WANT to do that with me is a great joy. 

• I see music-making as a full-body experience. One that can be enhanced by many lessons learned on the mat. I see yoga as a full senses experience that takes the practitioner on a journey of self-inquiry and discovery. I love that process. It is beautiful, and ideally, music should also cultivate some of this. This is the “fringe” I want to explore most deeply.

• What I love most about yoga, is that you practice it entirely for yourself. There is no enlightenment competition. There is no stage where you have to show up and perform. There is nothing but continually returning to a state of oneness, whatever that means for you. Chasing this elusive Unity and ease is what keeps many of us returning to our trusted yoga teachers and yoga mats. 

• Nobody makes you go to yoga class. You are there for yourself. That matters. The intent of your presence is meaningful.

• I have met some of the most special people in my life through yoga. It can create the most magical community.

 I am coming to terms with that; ultimately, any training is precisely what you make of it. The more you put in, the more you get out. At the end of this training, I may have the same yoga credential as someone who has been practicing for less time or someone who has more yoga ability (whatever that means). Still, I know that my experience guides my education and outcomes and will take me to a whole different level of personal accomplishment and satisfaction. I’m not saying I think I’m a kick-ass teacher. I’m merely saying that in some ways, I do consider this a calling. I don’t want to tell you what is right and wrong in your life. I don’t want to sell you diet pills or protein powder. I know and own that this training does not qualify me to advise on a whole spectrum of loosely related topics. I just want to geek out about stuff that I find really useful, awesome, and beneficial in the hopes that you will derive benefits from it as well. Hopefully, this will ultimately inspire you to hang out with me more often. By doing so, we can cultivate a little community that fosters personal growth and authenticity. A place that we can return to and find solace and comfort in and use to fuel our lives and find peace and contentment.

Is that too much to ask?

I'll be blogging more regularly about movement and yoga, so stay tuned for more musings on the topic coming to you for the rest of my blogging days.

My Yoga Journey

Yoga Yoga Yoga. It is almost annoying how popular it is these days. I mean, yes, it is lovely that so many people practice, and the easily accessible formats, styles, and varieties available to practice. On the other hand, it is hard to keep track of all the new trends and fads in this industry and all the ways it can take your money. Yoga has been part of my life for over a decade - like 13 or 14 years - and it has morphed and evolved many times. My experience includes many trends. While I may sound like I'm rolling my eyes about it now, I know that we all need different things in life and from our yoga practice. Recently, I was reflecting on why yoga has stayed in my life for so long. I sat down and charted my yoga path and practice so far; where I started, where I am, and the significant milestones along the way. I thought I'd share it here mostly because I'm curious about your yoga experience. What does your Yoga Journey look like? Where did it take you?

Hawaii

meditation on the shores

The first time I tried yoga was about thirteen years ago at a music festival in Hawai'i. It was a mandatory option to attend morning yoga two or three times a week before rehearsal. I noticed the benefits immediately. I was clear-headed and focused in rehearsals, my playing felt confident and full of ease, and my body felt refreshed and stronger. This was probably the best introduction to yoga a musician could ask for; morning yoga in Hawaii with a roomful of other musicians and then immediately transitioning to music "work." I was hooked. I think we practiced some type of Iyengar yoga, but my memory is a little hazy, and my knowledge of yoga at the time was practically nonexistent. I remember sun salutations were involved as well as many props (including backless chairs) and use of the wall for alignment purposes. I came home from the festival totally addicted to yoga and spent the rest of the summer attending almost daily classes.

Bikram - Traverse City

This photo was taken in Tulsa many years later because unfortunately I don’t have any early photos of my yoga journey

The summer of the music festival was the summer after my freshman year of college. I went home for the season and worked at a local restaurant when I wasn't in Hawai'i. In the mornings and on my days off, I would head to the Bikram Yoga studio in town, which had just opened. I started with my mom, who still practices hot yoga. I remember having the most impressive abs I've ever had in my life by the end of the summer. I was in excellent shape and probably accomplished my deepest backbends during this period of my practice. I loved sweating so much that I was drenched by the end. It also meant I was drinking tons and tons of water every day, and I started to really pay attention to my diet. I was working at an upscale hippy-dippy restaurant at the time, and so my food options were mostly farm-to-table organic and very nourishing. There is much to gripe about and dislike about Bikram and the practice, but if you have a good teacher, it is a deeply beneficial practice that emphasizes alignment. I fell in love with the sensations of particular basic (change) asanas like Warrior 2, extended side angle, camel pose, toe stand, rabbit pose, and tortoise. Every time I go home to visit my family, I join my parents for a grueling Bikram class or two.

Corepower - Minneapolis

Crow pose was one of the first fancy balance on my hands poses I ever managed to do successfully.

Corepower Yoga is now a large, multi-city, and online yoga business, but when I went there 13 years ago, there was only one studio in Minneapolis. I started with the Hot 26 class because it was basically a Bikram class with a different name. I liked it because it was familiar, but due to scheduling conflicts, I started attending more Vinyasa Flow classes. Then I tried Yoga Sculpt, and Restorative classes as well. I really liked the workout feel of the hot vinyasa flow classes. The physical benefits of these classes, like increased strength and flexibility, are the most accessible to those not ready for the more "woo woo" yoga styles. By the time I left MN, there were several core power studios in the twin cities, and I went at least 4 or 5 times per week. It was my favorite way to workout. Looking back, I see that my ego was so assertive in these classes. Everything was a challenge that I wanted to conquer. I wanted to be the best asana performer in the class, and I didn't really care how I got my head on the floor or legs into whatever pretzel pose. The mirrors on all the walls allowed me to admire my alignment (aka analyze what I liked and disliked about my body).

Ashtanga - Norman

When I was accepted to grad school in Oklahoma, one of the first things I worried about was where I would take yoga classes. It was the first thing I looked into when checking out apartments and the location of the university. I didn't have a car when I first moved to OK, so I needed to be bicycle riding distance from the studio. Fortunately, I found one (yes, just one) studio and also met some like-minded musicians - mostly singers - who wanted to go a few times per week. The owner of this studio is a widely respected Ashtanga teacher, but I really didn't even know what Ashtanga meant or what it was until later. We met Catie Coon and attended her Tuesday/Thursday morning class, and I think a class on the weekends. Her personality was so graceful and welcoming, and when she opened her own studio, we followed her immediately.

Yoga At Tiffany's - Norman

Just some of my yoga and music book collection. Not pictured: All of the anatomy books I have acquired plus so much more.

Catie's studio was primarily a vinyasa flow studio. My practice became quite powerful, and I was at a place where I could incorporate handstands into my sun salutations and flow. I was practicing many times per week and participating in yoga challenges. I had a yoga class friend group of fellow yoga students and teachers and trying to incorporate what I learned in class to my life. It was also a time when I couldn't overcome some of my physical limitations, and I couldn't make sense of my shortcomings. For example, I naturally have tight hamstrings and hips, but I admire Hanumanasana and have always wanted to do the complete version of this pose. I tried and tried and tried, and I could not do it. I was also feeling pain in my shoulders and neck, probably from the combination of handstands, improper proprioception, and hours of violin playing. I knew yoga was supposed to be therapeutic, but it was not easing my discomfort, and I couldn't find a way through the physical barriers.

Natalia Callard introduced me to alignment-based classes and unusual adjustments. In this photo she is helping me discover the (lack of) mobility in my thoracic spine. Norman, OK.

I found a class at Yoga at Tiffany's called "Strength and Alignment" and was totally hooked almost immediately. I felt like I was learning so much about anatomy, asana, tradition, and alignment in every class. The teacher was strict and direct, which I liked instantly, and I bought Light on Yoga, plus anatomy books, and other yoga books like the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. My study deepened immensely during this time. It was the first time I practiced yoga at home with the same intention and attention that I applied to violin playing. This class propelled me towards Iyengar Yoga and was the impetus for my dissertation topic: violin and yoga. 

Alignment based yoga - everywhere

I started going to Iyengar classes whenever I was in any city with an Iyengar studio. I practiced at home and followed mostly sequences that Iyengar outlines in his books. The violinist Yehudi Menuhin was instrumental in bringing Iyengar to the West, and I became obsessed with their relationship. In fact, it became the basis of my dissertation on the violin and yoga. After finding Iyengar yoga and practicing alignment-based yoga for several years, it was hard for me to go back to Vinyasa flow. I could feel the therapeutic and energetic benefits in an Iyengar class and trusted the instruction of my teachers.

Tulsa

I tried acro yoga at Be Love Yoga. This was fun and felt really good for my shoulders, but when I tried going to an acro yoga “jam” I was not as enthused.

Unfortunately, the yoga studios in Tulsa were primarily Vinyasa focused, and I kind of fell out of love with yoga. I tried different yoga classes and studio and was even featured in the Tulsa Guide Book that was in every hotel room in Tulsa for two years but I practiced half-heartedly on my own and took a class whenever I was elsewhere on a trip but felt somewhat disconnected from my yoga practice. I was going twice a week to the 6 am class with a friend, which was an excellent way to wake up, but I didn't feel fully engaged. Every time I attempted to jump through my sun salutations or try a handstand, I would do something funky to my shoulder and feel defeated again. I couldn't find a yoga teacher that felt like MY yoga teacher.

Los Angeles - Iyengar Yoga

What most of my Iyengar books look like.

When Jeff and I moved to LA, I was excited about being so close to the Iyengar Institute that I attended classes and still take classes there whenever I can. But I felt disconnected from the community there. As my schedule started to fill up with work, and I started to work at times that conflicted with class, I again found myself disconnected from my yoga practice. I bought a few Groupons for yoga studios close to my home (Silver Lake area) in the hopes of finding a Vinyasa class or teacher that would inspire me. Sadly, I think my appetite for a regular vinyasa diet is gone. Happily, I stumbled on an Iyengar class about 2 miles from my house with one of the most beautiful teachers I have ever met.

Silver Lake Yoga with Sue Darling

Therapeutic handstand. This makes my neck feel so much better and alleviates so much violin tension.

I go to Sue's class in Silverlake as often as I possibly can and have made her class a priority in my schedule. If I am not out of town, I am in her class. I love the community, and when I found her class 4 months ago, I finally felt like I could call Los Angeles home. I practice at home, I read yoga texts, I am curious about my practice, and I apply principles to my non-yoga commitments. Sue recently transformed Handstands, which years ago took a toll on my body into something I could practice for therapeutic benefits. I was so happy to return to handstand practice again, this time as a way to alleviate neck stiffness. Her class is exceptional. If you ever visit me in Los Angeles, I guarantee that I will try to talk you into going to class with me. She has helped me understand so much about my body and my yoga practice, like why sun salutations and handstands tend to hurt my shoulders, why deep twists sometimes make me feel nauseous, and so much more. She has helped me use it as a tool to alleviate the lopsided tension of playing the violin. 

Reignited Love Affair

The yoga room at Intermission in Manchester, VT this summer.

This summer, I went to Intermission, a musicians yoga retreat, and attended 2 yoga classes per day. I was unenthused going into the week about the fact that I assumed the teachers only taught Vinyasa classes. They had expanded their knowledge and practice way beyond the typical 200 hr teacher training program. I learned many movement lessons from them, and I loved the way they reframed many yogic concepts into an accessible and modern format using props, simple exercises, and partner work to guide our learning and understanding (I even enjoyed the vinyasa flow classes).

This summer, I think I fell back in love with yoga and the multitude of benefits it offers. From community to strength, from education to flexibility, from curiosity to adventure. My yoga practice feels fresh again. It is no longer just my favorite work out. It is my ideal way to warm up, calm down, strengthen my mind, condition my body, and find ease in my daily life. The ability and openness to practice it different ways speak volumes to my understanding and learning and process. I needed to find Sue, and I needed to go to yoga camp with a bunch of other musicians to reconnect me with many elements I had cast off or forgotten. There is a zeal for practice that I had several years ago that is reignited. My desire to better my asana practice is matched more evenly with my knowledge and patience for the process. My limitations have been reframed not as failures but as the current place I am working from. My mind is not (usually) so busy judging my body and comparing it to others in the class. I am amazed sometimes by the journey. It does not look more advanced now, but it feels so much better.

Tell me about your journey.