Yoga Beyond Poses

Image Gallery image by Tom McKeith

Gary Kraftsow noticed something strange as he walked to the podium to deliver the keynote address at the Northwest Yoga Festival in 2004. He wasn’t walking in a straight line. He was drifting like a car overdue for a wheel alignment.

The next morning, he packed his bags and flew home to Maui and his 10-year-old son. He felt weak and his heart beat irregularly. Over the next few days, he began to experience double vision, dizziness, and loss of balance. A CT scan revealed a tumor wedged between his cerebellum and brain stem, a condition medical professionals refer to as “sudden death.”

“What should I do?” he asked his doctor.

“You need to have surgery,” she told him.

“When?”

She’d already arranged a same-day flight to Honolulu.

“Yesterday,” she said.

Today, if you go to a workshop with Kraftsow, who has been teaching yoga for over 30 years, don’t unroll your mat right away. Take a seat on the floor or pull up a chair, and prepare to stay awhile.

The preoccupation with asana (postures) in some quarters of the yoga community frustrates Kraftsow. The notion that yoga is an exercise regimen has become so entrenched in the West that nonpractitioners commonly shrug it off with: “I can’t do yoga. I’m not flexible.” Not only has yoga been reduced to asana, but asana has been reduced to what Kraftsow calls “self-chiropractic,” a fervid pursuit of textbook alignment. What he will tell you is that yoga isn’t about getting to know the postures. It’s about getting to know yourself.

In Honolulu, Kraftsow had less than a week to prepare for his surgery. “So I did a lot of yoga,” he says, “but no asana.”

Instead, Kraftsow plumbed every dimension of his being. He directed attention and gratitude to every part of his body, every biological system. He reflected on all the things he’d learned in life, his character traits, and his capacity for joy. “It was like touching all parts of myself with awareness and a loving attitude,” he says. “I did it for hours and hours.”

He also practiced breathing techniques (pranayama) and chanted sacred verses believed to hasten healing. He thought a lot about his reasons for living: his son and the new woman in his life. By the time he checked into the hospital, shock and anxiety had given way to hopefulness.

Surgeons removed a tumor the size of a golf ball from his brain. The news was good: It was a benign schwannoma. But the seven-hour surgery had taken a toll. He couldn’t move for several days, his muscles atrophied, and he dropped 30 pounds.