Although I have never actually asked myself this question, I think it’s definitely an idea that’s out there circling through the minds of yogis around the world. The reason I’ve never asked myself this question is because I am one of those people who has a body that is naturally suited for yoga. This is not something that I can take credit for, nor is it my fault. I was born this way.

Like many, but by no means all, yoga teachers, I have a natural physique that is conducive to the twists, stretches and bends that comprise a daily asana practice. My body and practice are by no means perfect. I have tight hips and hamstrings, a weak right ICB and my bones make unnatural clicking sounds sometimes that I find more than a little disconcerting. In fact I would say my asana practice is mediocre at best. However that doesn’t take away from the fact that if I stopped doing my practice tomorrow for an extended period of time I wouldn’t gain weight or become overly stiff or weak. I would also most probably be able to slip back into my practice with relative ease when and if I started up again, with the same relative ease with which I got into asana practice in the first place.

What is not often apparent to the aspiring yogis out there, is that people that are often seen as amazing yogis because of their physical practice are, more often than not, like that naturally and not because of endless hours of sweating on the mat. I think this is an important point to consider when so many people out there are literally bending themselves over backwards trying to achieve, through huge amounts of effort, what was achieved by somebody else relatively effortlessly. The best case scenario: aspiring yogis quit after years of hard work that got them “nowhere”. Worst case scenario: an attitude of inadequacy arises from constantly comparing oneself to these “pretzel people” and either leads to constant repetitive injury through not respecting the natural configuration of their bodies or plain old self-loathing.

Something else that we often forget to consider, is that people that seek out yoga are often already health conscious or have an already established penchant for physical activity. I can’t count the amount of times I have spoken to some of my students that are adept at their practice and they have said things like, “Well I did ballet/dancing for years before I got into yoga,” or “my parents sent me to gymnastics classes when I young.” Yoga has become another way for them to continue to do what their bodies have been doing, naturally or otherwise, for most of their lives. When ordinary mortals come across those yogis demi-gods with glowing skin, sparkling, clear eyes and magazine hair. There’s a high chance that they eat healthy, exercise and get a full night’s sleep because they want to look good. They want to look good because that makes them feel good. And yoga is another way to maintain that image for the outside world. Although one could argue that that probably isn’t the goal of yoga, I’ll leave that for another discussion.

There are a few reasons why I mention these often unspoken facts that are seldom acknowledged at yoga studios around the world. In the classic training regime that takes place in the original Karate Kid movie Mister Miyagi skillfully teaches his apprentice karate, while the student is convinced that he is only learning to “wax on and wax off”. In much the same way the physical practice is both the means to an end and an end in itself. Alone it makes one fitter, less stressed and generally healthier. As a means to an end it moves us towards self-realisation and moksha or liberation. At least that’s the theory, right

Just like in each asana or posture there are gross and subtle aspects, the same is true with the entire system of yoga. The gross or obvious aspect of our practice is the focus on the attention to alignment, concentration that arises from doing our practice mindfully and the executing of the asana itself. The subtler aspects come from the breath control and fine tuning the postures. Subtler still is the attention on the breath and the mental training that arises from that mindfulness. The irony is that, depending on our natural physical ability, as we move from gross to subtle things either become easier or harder and not always in the way that seems obvious at first.

For the naturally flexible or previously conditioned yogi the gross part is a breeze. They drop down into Hanumasana and patiently wait for the “advanced” version of the next pose to be called out while the teacher helps all of the other students with blocks and straps. Unless they work very hard to cultivate a meditative state as well as an attitude of humility, the physically adept yogis may soon find their minds wandering to things that aren’t very yogic at all. When and if, and this is big if because we all like to revert to what to what we’re good at when things get tough, the practice becomes more subtle and internal, moving into the realms of pratyahara (Withdrawal of the sense organs from external objects), dharana (Fixing the attention on a single object) and dhyana (intense contemplation of the nature of the object of meditation) the physical yogi may find their practice becoming extremely challenging.

The opposite appears to be true for those that are not naturally embued with hip flexibility and upper body strength of a chimpanzee. Those who need to work harder at their asana practice seldom have time for their thoughts to wander off. They are drawn, single-minded, into the present by their discomfort. Just like people that are underprivileged in other walks of life will often jump at an opportunity to gain access to additional resources, in much the same way the physically challenged yogi will be attentive to any and all information that comes from the teacher or arises from their efforts. Through sincere genuine dedication of “trying to get it right” they inadvertently reap the subtle and deep rewards of asana practice: a strong, well focused mind.

I am not saying that this is by any means effortless and either type of yogi may fall into the trap of fixation on the body and its abilities (or lack there of). What I am saying is that by being clear about the fact that the ultimate goal of yoga is true liberation in every sense of the word, we can use our asana in a constructive and intelligent way to move us to that end, regardless of whether we can do a handstand or not. It may seem contradictory, as so many of life’s truths often are, but the harder you have to work, the easier your journey may be. So in answering the question: ”Do I have the right body for yoga?” I would have to say yes, everybody has the right body for yoga, but it will ultimately be your attitude towards it that will determine whether it becomes an asset or a hindrance. Remind yourself often about the ultimate goal of yoga daily and use your body and your asana towards that end.