Maha prana

I’ve started including a bit more pranayama in my classes. It’s not something that featured prominently in the classes I attended myself so I’m a bit slow to incorporate it much in my own teaching and lack some confidence in doing so. But suddenly everything I learn about yoga seems to emphasise the nervous system above all else, and pranayama is central to that. In my own practice I can feel the power of breath work and it takes various forms at the moment: some ‘formal’ practice of various pranayama techniques but also a greater overall sensitivity to breathing during asana, and — the newest aspect of all for me — how to chant the Veda and control the breath through lines of Sanskrit.

I was reflecting with the Veda teacher that I am only just coming to realise the physicality of chanting after practising for nearly a year now. The common aspiration sound in Sanskrit is called ‘maha prana’ (big prana/energy/breath…) requiring an explosive exhale, almost a kapalabhati-like use of the diaphragm, as I’ve been taught. I find it tricky to manage and I notice that I’m actually bit reluctant to make such an effort. Can’t I be more gentle? I think I subconsciously wanted the chanting to be a self-soothing lullaby, a bit like how kirtan feels, something that would steady me and perhaps en-chant me a little with its mysticism, something with a quiet and melodic beauty. But it’s not that: it’s vigorous, energetic, and quite ‘in your face’. You’ve got to be confident and sure, and feelings of steadiness seem almost visceral, coming from the ability to hit the notes consistently and keep it going line after line, an unwavering flow of breath and focus. I find I can’t practice in the evening, it leaves me feeling just too wired, so the power of the practice is undeniable.

In my yoga class recently I taught Anuloma Pranayama, a relatively benign and simple breath practice I thought, intended more as a stress relief technique than anything. It was nice to have space for some group discussion afterwards, as I find it so hard to judge how pranayama is being experienced by students, and whether I have allowed them to practice enough time but not too much, provided sufficient direction as well as space for personal exploration… All those newbie teacher concerns come up again in this context! The experiences reported by the students were all in line with my expectations, so that was fine and reassuring!

As I let the students go after class one of them hung back to talk. She had said that she’d never practised any pranayama and that it had been unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She didn’t know how to make sense of it. She told me the nearest thing she could compare it to was giving birth! It sounds strange but she explained it further. It was not the breathing itself but the degree of inner concentration that was so remarkable for her. Focussing internally on her breath pattern was very intense but at the same time she was aware of the sound of my voice too on another level of her consciousness. Like the midwife giving instructions apparently! Her experience of two levels of awareness at the same time and total absorption on the inner experience was clearly quite a revelation.

I am always so intrigued to hear my students’ reaction to their practice/my teaching. It’s always interesting and often gives me some thoughts about how to refine my instructions or handling of something. It also makes me realise how much I’ve experienced myself and how my early years of yoga were an unceasing and often overwhelming string of new and highly intense experiences. I realise I am maturing a little yogically speaking, that I now have a much broader context in which to reflect on my practice. I hope I can translate that in my teaching and support my students as they too encounter such things for the first time. And the preciousness of someone sharing their experience of intensity, even while they were trying to make sense of it… it’s humbling every single time. I hope I never grow out of appreciating that.