Angela Farmer: "Just me having fun"
One look at Angela Farmer and you know she's no traditionalist. Her Down Dog--a dance of undulations and spinal ripples--has more in common with a charmed cobra unfurling itself to the tune of an unseen flute, than a "pose" meant to be held. Her curly gray locks are worn in two pleasingly asymmetrical braids--one that swirls across her head from one side to the other, and a second that hangs straight down from beneath the first. And the look she gives her partner, Victor Van Kooten, with her aqueous, deep blue eyes, as he baits her with a teasing comment conveys not the standard peevishness of a woman annoyed, but a loving indulgence.
So it's no surprise when in the first moments of an all-day intensive titled "Dive Inside" (held on Friday) she is exhorting us to let go of "tradition," of yoga as we think it is supposed to be done, and to experience the sensations in our bodies, in our minds and hearts, for ourselves. She reminds us that the yoga tradition has been handed down by people who experienced great transformation and were able to help others experience it-but that the resulting body of knowledge may or may not be helpful for our own transformation. "We're not against tradition," she says, "but by letting the importance [of old teachings] fade away, we can honor their essence within ourselves. We need to take responsibility for ourselves."
That message is made real throughout the day, as we are continually asked not to stretch our hamstrings or press our heels, but to notice how we feel as we try out some uncommon move--like Down Dog with the finger pads pressing, but the palms lifted. "Let go of any idea of correct position--that creates little tensions, little holding places that come from anxiety, expectation."
We are being coaxed not to perform someone else's vision of a pose, but to find our own expression of a posture or indulge our own sense of what feels good. As the day progresses, we hop around our mats like wild donkeys and spirited bunnies, we sway and dance in Vriksana (Tree Pose) like living trees on a windy afternoon. We partner up to rub each other's livers, to pull on each other's thighs and heels, to press our heads into each other's backs like goats butting each other.
Angela's wriggling through another Down Dog, as she asks, "Is it a dog? Is it a snake? Is it a river? Is it just me having fun?" The answer to so much rhetorical questioning can only be that it doesn't matter. The beauty of her supple body in motion doesn't need to be named and it certainly can't be taught. It is life itself. "Wake up that giggle inside," Angela begs us.
Victor seems, at first, to be Angela's sidekick. They play off each other with a wry humor that entertains the room. Victor gives the anatomy lessons, does the drawings on the white board, and shows us more clearly what is being asked of us, often by pushing and pulling Angela's body into positions the rest of us could never attain. And he gives fantastic adjustments and modifications as he works the room-at least he did for me!
By midday, though, many of the women in the class were talking about the dynamic of their relationship. (There were men there, too, but I didn't hear any of them chatting this.) There is all of the gentle jousting and mild disagreement about what to do next that plagues all relationships. But it is met this day by both Angela and Victor with a delicious spaciousness. They each seem to make room for each other to be who they are, even when the words or behavior verges on irritating them. They simply laugh, with authenticity, not discomfort, or they give the room a knowing look that expresses understanding as well as a bit of humor at the other's expense. For me, the gift of their conduct with each other that afternoon was as much fun as trying to merengue with my spine.