If you were to close your eyes, and I were to ask you to tell me about the first image that comes to mind when I said “yogi,” what would you say? Would you picture yourself? If not, why not? Are there barriers or beliefs that stand in the way of your seeing yourself as a yogi?
I’m sure everyone has a mental archetype of what a yogi (or yogini) is supposed to be. I personally envision some older dude with long white hair, a beard, maybe of Indian origin, sitting in lotus pose, completely blissed out to the sounds of his own “Om’s.”
The last person I could imagine in the role of yogi is me, a Polish immigrant who’s been a criminal, an inmate in the Illinois Department of Corrections, homeless, an addict, not to mention the many other labels I have accumulated throughout my lifetime. You might not picture me as your stereotypical yogi, but in the Illinois prison system, I am the “yoga guy.” I am a yogi.
I have never been to a yoga class or been instructed by a yoga master; yet, I have been practicing my intuitive interpretation of yoga for 15 years and, based on that personal construal, “teaching” yoga for close to 11 years. The audacity of thinking of himself as a yogi, you may say; that guy is just a hack. So, I ask you, what or who is a yogi?
Is it the person who has perfected the big-toe-in-the-ear-canal-balancing-on-the-other-foot’s-small-toe pose? (I’m still working on that one.) Is it the person who has graced the covers of venerable magazines? The one who draws the most crowds into the largest studios or gyms? Someone who has traveled around the world collecting experiences?
Not to say that people fitting these descriptions do not qualify as yogis, but are any of these a prerequisite to being classified as a yogi? We have our standards, of course, but upon what are we basing our standards for propping “yogis” on a pedestal? When I think of the nameless and faceless among us who fit the bill as yogi, I think of the people who live day in and day out practicing this thing we call yoga, the key word being practicing, being mindful of the situations that present themselves, oftentimes perceived as a drudging grind rather than as a restful respite.
It is the editor who takes a chance and prints a person’s letter in a local yoga magazine because she knows the person’s voice should be heard. It is the anonymous benefactor who donates their gently used mat or prop to a group of people who would not otherwise have access to such an item. It is the individual next to you at the yoga studio offering up their favorite wall spot because they realized that you may need the extra support for balancing postures. Maybe it’s the person reading this article, making the followed-through commitment to live a bit more mindfully, paying attention to how they are impacting their families, communities, etc., and making appropriate changes to become the individuals they visualize being. Or, how about the person writing this article, making an effort to be present in this moment, smiling at the possibilities that this unrealized moment brings.
These people are you and me. There is nothing special or unique about us. There is nothing glamorous about our thoughts or actions, no hero’s tale to tell, only a willingness to practice the little things that make up our lives. This, my friends, is what being a yogi is all about. Internalizing and using the yoga tools made available to us to become a bit less fractured as individuals not only on the mat, but also—especially—off the mat.
Some chant, some bend, others meditate or practice whatever discipline they choose to follow in order to unite the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual, but they put forth the daily effort. I often say that the secret to being good at yoga is 99% intention and 1% execution. The execution is the final product that we are so eagerly chasing after, but what counts is the intention, the daily shadowed experience where the unseen work is being accumulated to get to that execution.
To all of those yogis, I say thank you for being my teachers. Although you may not have known it (without sounding too creepy), I’ve been watching and learning from a distance what it means to be that seemingly elusive yogi by using you as a living example. You are the ones who have strengthened this thing I call my yoga practice and have enabled me to feel confident that my title of “yoga guy” will not evaporate along with the illusion of time served when I’m released in June. So next time someone asks you to visualize a yogi, please make sure to include yourself.
Years ago someone sent me a letter with a quote by Sri K. Pattabhi Jois saying “… do your practice and all is coming.” For a long time I couldn’t quite figure out the significance of those simple words. I believe I’m finally getting it. Thank you for helping me to understand.
PS: Thank you to all of the Yoga Chicago readers who have supported the Yoga at the River program. You will never fully know how much you have changed the course of so many lives, sometimes by simply letting some of us believe.
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Bartosz Leszczynski is scheduled to be released from East Moline Correctional Center on June 21. He can be emailed at Bart.yogattheriver@gmail.com. After June 21, his email address will be bart@integrasign.net.
