When asked to interview Amaris to find out what makes them tick, there was no lengthy pondering on my part in deciding who I might first interrogate. A sunny Thursday morning was made even more beautiful when I found Don Briskin, yoga teacher and practitioner extraordinaire. We met in a cafe by my office and hands we shook as we found a nook where our business we took. And by business I mean pleasure. The simple pleasure of talking yoga.
Elegantly dressed and eloquently expressed, the academic that is Briskin sat down and informed me that we had little over an hour for our discussion, after which he would have to teach his science. Don is a busy man. But when not conducting research or teaching in plant biochemistry, when not with his family, and when not engrossed in his many hobbies (painting being particularly close to his heart), Don finds time for yoga. This ancient tradition has been part of his life since he was a seven-year-old growing up in Southern California, where he was introduced to the practice by his mother. In turn, she found inspiration from the teachings of Indra Devi, the famous yogini who popularized asanas in the West after studying with the influential Indian Tirumalai Krishnamacharya. Don's mother, a professional ballet dancer who practiced yoga well into her nineties, was primarily interested in the physical aspect (hatha yoga) and its benefits. Yoga had only just begun to spread to America, and asanas were performed on carpets (which resembled Persian rugs) instead of the sticky mats which fill studios today. Yoga was, even by Californian standards, very much a novelty at the time. It was certainly marginalized, with practitioners like Don and his mother "considered weirdos". Gradually, however, and due to the pioneering efforts of many (particularly Devi) who practiced in the lineage of the old masters, yoga blossomed in the West.
Now I don't know about you, but the beginning of high school was not a time when I was thinking too deeply about anything, let alone reading (and understanding) the Bhagavad Gita, as a young Briskin did. Also interested in Zen and transcendental meditation, his hunger for philosophical stimulation was matched only by his rapidly deepening asana practice. This latter aspect, he found, represented a perfect complement to his growing interest in surfing. Indeed, not only was it a relaxing yin to the yang of this competitive sport, but the physical aspect proved invaluable preparation for the demanding rigors of surfing. Consider utkatasana (fierce pose) or maybe virabhadrasana II (warrior II pose). It's not difficult to see how even simple asanas afforded Don the balance and strength with which he could carve up the Pacific Ocean. Of course, Don didn't just stick to simple asanas and could often be found in vrschikasana (scorpion pose), dwi pada sirsasana (two-legs-behind-the-head pose) or hanumanasana (monkey pose, a.k.a. the splits), among others.
While scientific pursuits took Don to Canada in 1982, to Utah the following year and to Chambana shortly thereafter, his yoga was a friend always by his side. And this friend was living, breathing and evolving in parallel with Don's interests. The thing that struck me most was the yogic journey Don embarked on as a child and continues to travel on to this day. While his path has twisted and turned, detoured and doubled back through several styles of yoga, he made a point of studying each of these in the most authentic of fashions. His advice to myself and others beginning their journey is simply to "study as closely to the source as possible". Thus, while it is beneficial to practice several styles on the way to finding one's marga (yogic path), Don finds it essential that each style be studied genuinely. In terms of Don's development, he practiced Iyengar yoga for a decade, having studied not only Light on Yoga but also the Astadala Yoga Mala, a more philosophical text penned by the same author. He received the most traditional of Kundalini studies under Sat Khalsa, a student of Yogi Bhajan. Don became particularly attracted to dynamic yoga - the vinyasa styles - which, like many modern hatha yoga practices, stem from Krishnamacharya. Always in search of authenticity, he learned ashtanga vinyasa from Manju Jois, the son of K. Pattabhi Jois, the method's founder. Most recently, he found his niche when training with Srivatsa Ramaswami, a famous student of Krishnamacharya. The style of hatha yoga he performs today involves mindful asana progression which meets the student where they are right here and now. What could possibly embody the phrase 'be present' more than this? The Sanskrit name for this yoga - vinyasa krama - translates to "placing steps in a special way". In this context, the "steps" (asanas, of which there are roughly seven hundred to choose from in the method) are sequenced in an intelligent manner most appropriate not only to the particular student but also their current state of being. Anyone talking to Don about yoga for even a couple of minutes will be inspired by the passion he exudes for this tradition and I imagine that the logical synthesis of asana practice inherent in vinyasa krama appealed very much to the scientist in Don. It turns out that this yoga was precisely that which his mother taught him as a child - his yogic journey had come full circle. The nerd in me cannot help but point out that Don's yoga marga had become a beautiful yoga mala (garland).
In case I haven't made myself clear - Don loves yoga. In fact, he needs it, claiming that his "daily well-being depends on it". Do you feel like yoga is necessary for your health? It certainly is for Don, with his consistent yoga practice keeping arthritis at bay, as exemplified by the healing effects of sirsasana (headstand) on his cervical arthritis. And do you ever feel rotten when you haven't had your asana fix for the day? You're not alone in relying on yoga as "a key point in maintaining day to day functionality". While Don might no longer perform full expressions of vrschikasana, for example, it would be hard to say that his asana practice has slowed down, especially if you've seen him in bhujapidasana (arm-pressure pose), in which he's pictured on many a flier. However, Don did share with me that his practice has gradually (and I mean gradually!) progressed into being more meditative and spiritual in nature. Additionally, his study of classic (and modern) texts is impressive and on more than one occasion in our meeting I felt a little inadequate in not being able to recognize even the title of a book he mentioned. Indeed, me telling you that Don is knowledgeable is a yogic understatement on par with saying that 'B.K.S. Iyengar is fairly limber' or 'Krishnamacharya knew a thing or two about The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali.'
While I knew that Don had practiced yoga for half a century, I was surprised to discover that only nine years had gone by since he taught his first class. But boy has he made up for lost time! When asked about the motivation behind his yoga instruction, Don simply offered that "much greater than in yourself, you'll see the benefits in the people that come to your classes". Benefits like being able to sleep at night after suffering through years of insomnia. Or rediscovering shoulder mobility that had not been found in a decade. These are just two of the countless examples of Don's yoga teaching changing lives. Ever the selfless man, of his yoga teaching he gives: "improving someone's life quality - that's probably the greatest rewarding thing you can do."
Don and I had already been talking yoga for over an hour when we realized that our sunny Thursday morning had become a sunny Thursday afternoon. But I was still eager to absorb a little more wisdom before he had to run off and become Professor Briskin, biochemistry guru. So I asked him if he had any advice for a new yoga teacher such as myself. As I expected, he replied that "every yoga teacher needs to do home practice every single day". The reason was not so much about having perfect asanas to show off in front of everyone, but rather related to having an intimate knowledge of how the poses feel. Anyone can direct you to 'raise your left arm' or 'bend your right knee', but communicating what you might feel in a pose is a deeper skill altogether and helps build a student-teacher relationship abounding in empathy. Don noted that the man who most influenced his own yoga, Krishnamacharya, "was the master of very detailed cuing that included not only what you should do but what you should feel". More than satisfied with Don's answer, I felt extremely grateful to him for sharing his story and his many pearls of wisdom. After we got up, shook hands and parted ways, I couldn't help but feel amazing, a feeling I'm sure I have in common with all people lucky enough to interact with him. That's just the kind of guy Don is.
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