IF I HEAR "TAKE A VINYASA" ONE MORE TIME...!, or THE ART OF THE SUN SALUTATION

Let's talk a little bit about Surya Namaskar, otherwise known as the Sun Salutation. In its most basic form, it is a collection of poses (the exact number of which varies greatly amongst differing interpretations, see examples below) whose continuous movements are matched with specific breath cues, all of which are designed to alternately flex and extend the spine while also mobilizing the other major musculoskeletal joints and stimulating the nervous system. That is a big, intricate task. And it is possibly the single most identifying and ubiquitous characteristic of modern yoga practice. Therein lays its impact: it is a powerful combination of inescapable and demanding.

Nearly every major lineage of asana-based practice recognizes some variation(s) of the Sun Salutation; you can hardly roll out a sticky mat without it. It is the go-to method for warming and preparing the body, and, in some cases, the whole class seems like an hour-long sun salute. We have all been in that flow class that just won't stop flowing -- at some point you realize that the only thing you can hear is the Top 40 playlist harmonizing with the furnace, you aren't sure if you should be more concerned about the jelly-like feeling in your arms or the distinct possibility of slipping on your own sweat-puddle, you've decided that gravity is the universe's cruelest joke, and you are thinking to yourself if I hear her say "take a vinyasa" one more time, I am going to scream!

Even the most yoga-loving among us is familiar with that scenario. But we keep learning that frustration and aversion can almost always be minimized, if not eliminated entirely, by carefully considering what you are doing, why you are doing it, and how you can do it well. Surya Namaskar is no different.

It hasn't existed all that long, actually. Unlike some other aspects of yoga, it isn't ancient. To the best of history's knowledge, it was first practiced sometime around the early-to-mid twentieth century when Mr Jois was establishing what came to be known as Ashtanga Yoga, and Mr Iyengar included his own (briefly mentioned) version of it in Light on Yoga (468). That makes the Sun Salutation less than a hundred years old. Nonetheless, it is vastly popular, and it doesn't seem to be going anywhere any time soon. There is no shortage of classes which include some use of it, either as a warm-up or as the framework for the entire sequence. So if you intend to continue attending public practices, it is probably worth the effort to learn what this whole "take a vinyasa" thing is all about.

The meaning of Surya Namaskar, like most things in yoga, is both literal and figurative. The words actually mean "to salute the sun." Namas means "salute" or "bow" or "homage." It is the same root as the word Namaste which we exchange at the end of class (namas: "salute" + te: "you"). Kara means "to do" or "to make." Namaskar, therefore, means to offer a reverent greeting.

Surya is the Sanskrit word for sun. It is referring to the real sun, that which lights and warms the earth, and has been revered for eons as an essential life-giver, ever-deserving of admiration and sacrifice. It also refers to the light within, that part of your inner-being which burns just as brightly, just as reliably, and is just as deserving of recognition and adoration as the star in the sky. So, philosophically speaking, the act of Surya Namaskar is a gesture of graciousness toward all those things which are bigger than you -- the very real and strange things that constitute our universe as well as the unique parts of you that are your humanness.

Clearly Surya Namaskar's metaphysics are interesting, but understanding them alone won't alleviate your chronic wrist pain or keep you from belly-flopping through Chaturanga or turn your donkey-kick into a graceful hop. To be honest, this blog isn't going to address any of those things at all. That is what the sticky mat and the classroom are for because learning how to do it well isn't theoretical; it's practical and experiential. But we can take a closer look at its form and function to better clarify what it is and why we do it from a more physical-oriented point of view.

Although variations are nearly infinite, the sequence most traditionally includes Mountain pose (Tadasana 61), Standing Forward bend (Uttanasana 93), Chaturanga Dandasana (104), Upward-facing Dog (Urdhva Mukha Svanasana 109), and Downward-facing Dog (Adho Mukha Svanasana 110). Each pose is linked to the next via movement and breath. And, because it targets each of the major joints in the body by (mostly) alternating between forward bends and back bends which creates a corresponding alternation of weight-bearing and stretching, it is capable of being a whole practice in itself, although it is usually contained to just the first few minutes of a fuller-spectrum sequence. The fluid movement synchronized with the deep respiration and then repeated multiple times gives it an aerobic quality which conditions the body physically and physiologically.

When you are instructed to "take a vinyasa" in a flow class, it most commonly refers to the middle of the Sun Salutation; namely, Down-dog to Chaturanga to Up-dog and back to Down-dog. It is often meant to be a transition between poses (the way to get from Standing Pose A to Standing Pose B, for instance). Sometimes it's meant to be a kind of palette-cleanser in order to switch between categories of poses (say, after back bends and before seated forward bends). And sometimes it's simply the means by which you sustain continuous movement if that is what is most important to you. That particular mini-set of poses has become known as "a vinyasa." But the idea of vinyasa is, thankfully, more elegant (and less sweaty) than that. In Sanskrit, the word means "to arrange" and "to connect." So "a vinyasa" is actually something which has been placed in a special way, with specific intent. The fact that our yoga practice so often incorporates Surya Namaskar which is a vinyasa serves as yet another reminder that our practice is an act of reverence -- it is about skillfully doing this important thing for a good reason.

Additionally, its repetitive choreography provides a mental clarity that can only be experienced when you are engaged in a familiar activity. New things require a lot of dynamic cognition; they are mentally expensive, but when an activity becomes well-known, it develops its own kind of autonomic pulse which allows you to think less and feel more. By repeatedly practicing and mastering this series of poses and their transitions, your mind quiets and concentrates. In that way, Surya Namaskar is a moving meditation.

Thus its purpose is to provide an all-inclusive whole-self exercise -- physical, physiological, psychological, and philosophical.

Again, that is a big and intricate task. It is no wonder that it is so difficult to do well, or that we are so often left feeling more exhausted than enlightened by the time it is over. It requires strength, flexibility, stamina, and precise alignment. It requires some defiance of gravity. And it requires that you first learn the components of the individual poses for their own sake -- their particular forms, functions, and refined forms.

Below are four commonly practiced variations of Surya Namaskar with their corresponding breath cues. Try them each a few times to the best of your ability. Notice their similarities and their differences. What stands out? What comes easily? What isn't clear? And we will tackle the question of how do I do it well? together in class.