The Plateau Years: Finding Grace in Ashtanga's Slow Seasons

Being hypermobile has always made inversions particularly challenging for me. I remember the constant struggle of balancing by fluke and dangling precariously once I managed to get upside down. This has been my journey over the last two years, and I know there's still tremendous scope for improvement.

I used to watch senior Ashtanga practitioners flowing in and out of asanas with such grace, while mine always felt floppy and unstable. I would hurry through postures, relying purely on my flexibility rather than building proper strength. From the outside, it probably looked fine, but I always wondered why my practice never felt graceful or controlled.

Am I being obsessed with the physical form? Perhaps. But I've come to understand that physical strength truly does translate to mental strength. My practice isn't perfect, but I can see some progress. During my seven years of Ashtanga practice, I have had plateaus for weeks, months, and years where I felt nothing seemed to move. I read a beautiful quote by George Leonard: "In the land of the quick fix, it may seem radical, but to learn anything significant, you must be willing to spend most of your time on the plateau."

I never realized that slowing down and going back to basics could yield such profound benefits. Over the last two years, I've focused on quality over quantity. I no longer obsess over achieving specific asanas—I simply try to show up consistently. I've noticed that on days when I work out, my mental state is significantly better. I recently heard a podcast where they mentioned that we no longer exercise to look a certain way; it's become essential for our mental health. This resonates deeply with me.

I love combining Ashtanga with gym work and strength training. The feeling after a sweaty practice is simply indescribable—there's something magical about it. This has been my anchor that I can come back to every day, something that has kept me sane during my best and worst times. As I was speaking with my friend and teacher about this, she said that remembering the anchor and coming back to it even on great days is also very important. It's like how we remember God only during difficult times—do we really thank him when we're doing well? That conversation left me pondering.

I genuinely wish more people, especially women, would prioritize taking time for themselves and engaging in some form of physical activity. I understand that staying motivated every single day is impossible—that's where routine and discipline become crucial allies. I also recognize that it's easier for me compared to many women who juggle numerous other responsibilities. However, I believe that if people could take time for themselves with less guilt, the lasting benefits would be transformative.

Finally, I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to my dear friend, mentor, and current teacher. She has patiently tolerated all my rants at odd hours and stood by me with unwavering support and encouragement. Every morning when I'd show up for practice saying "mood illa" (not in the mood), she gave me space, never judged me, and allowed me to do just the bare minimum. Her presence and guidance have been instrumental in my journey, and she's one of the key reasons I felt inspired to start teaching and share this knowledge with others. I'm eternally grateful to have her walking beside me on this path. Sometimes the greatest teachers are those who meet us exactly where we are, without judgment, and help us grow at our own pace.