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Hari Om, dear friends watching via webcast. We are here in Střílká for a wonderful program for yoga teachers. This morning, we had a very practical lecture about our spinal column—its importance for āsana, how to feel the body, and how to correct positions for ourselves and our students. Later, we will have a short lecture about Paścimottānāsana. Mostly, we will discuss why we have a problem with Paścimottānāsana. I joked earlier that we have only one problem: we are not practicing every day. Perhaps we practice daily, but not the specific āsanas crucial for stretching our muscles. To perform āsanas like Paścimottānāsana and Pakṣipaścimottānāsana—essentially all āsanas from the fifth and sixth levels—we need daily practice, not just once a week. When we begin any exercise or sport, including yoga, we always face one initial problem: we must learn the movements, especially if they are unusual in daily life. The body must learn to perform them, not just physically but by creating new synapses in the brain. This is evident in gymnastics, where a gymnast repeats a movement ten thousand times or more to master it. This learning is not only physical. If you listen to a trainer or watch gymnastics, you see they also use visualization. They perform the movement inwardly, through mental practice, which helps create the necessary neural pathways. Perhaps a year ago, we heard a nice lecture from Harriett Hemlata about the movements of the big toe. Every child can do this, and children do not have flat feet. Later, we stop making that movement. Now, if we try, it is possible; there is no physical blockage, but we lack the synapses in the brain. We must practice repeatedly to regain them. Sometimes we are physically able but do not know how, hence the need for daily practice. You may read or hear that if you cannot practice physically—for instance, with a broken leg in the hospital—you can practice mentally. There is medical proof: if you practice mentally while your leg is in a cast, and also practice with your healthy leg, you will lose less muscle mass and flexibility in the injured leg. But that is a good excuse! One might say, "Okay, from now on I will practice only mentally." You know what we hear Mahāprabhujī said? If you always have a pillow behind your back, very soon you will have a pillow here [gestures to the mind]. I usually joke, "Mental practicing is excellent." But if you are very thirsty, you can drink mentally. Yes, you take a mental drink, but you become more and more thirsty. Or if you need to use the toilet, you must physically go. You must also physically drink. However, if we practice physically and cannot perform a perfect āsana, it is also excellent to visualize yourself performing it perfectly. Let me share something about Śalabhāsana. For those who do not know, in Śalabhāsana you lie on your abdomen with your arms under your body and lift your legs until they are almost vertical to the floor, not just a few centimeters. In my case, if I think too much in that moment, I get a blockage and can only lift them halfway. I must tell myself, "Vivek Purī, don’t think too much. Just do it," and then everything is perfect. When I lead a yoga class, I ask students to be aware of their first thought when I say, "Lie on your stomach; now we will do Śalabhāsana." Usually, it is: "I’m old. I can’t do this. This is only for the Chinese circus. I have a problem. I am weak. I am not good enough. I can’t. I am ill." Mostly, it is fear or a little laziness. Therefore, visualization is excellent because it slowly makes these inner blockages disappear. You build inner certainty: "Yes, I can do this. I am able." You gain self-confidence. That is the first step. Second, usually when we see an āsana before practicing, we say, "It is too difficult for me. I can’t do this." I joke that if you say, "I can’t do this," and then I come to help you a little and you succeed, you must make a vegetarian cake for the whole group. The first thing I learned in yoga was this sentence: never say, "I can’t do this." If you practice, you will see it is very easy, and in a short time you will be able to do it. But if you say, "I can’t," you will not do it, because everything is a projection of your mind. When someone says, "Paścimottānāsana? No, no, it’s not for me. I’m old, forget this," try another approach. You will see that sometimes—or mostly—people who have a little more weight, by today's standards, were considered normal fifty years ago. Not long ago, the actress Marilyn Monroe was the ideal. Now, everyone would say she was fat. You see how standards change. Often, people who are normal by the standards of fifty years ago are more able to practice Paścimottānāsana than very skinny people, who are like dry plums. In Āyurveda, if you are not flexible enough—if the body is really inflexible—you are advised to take ghee. But not in the way we think, like oiling a machine. You must understand body physiology on another level. Very skinny people without any fat face two problems today, where zero-percent-fat products are popular: we lose flexibility, and we lose memory. We live in fear and stress because the brain needs two things for food: good fat, like ghee, and sugar. Good fats, such as ghee or seed oils containing omega-3 acids (like flaxseed oil, not just fish oil), also protect the heart. Research I saw about gymnasts indicates that with more omega-3, the process of learning new movements and creating synapses is quicker. I mentioned oil because with sufficient good fats and fat tissue, the body can produce a hormone called elastin, which aids flexibility. You will see that people of normal weight are often in better condition and more flexible than some very skinny younger people. The second big problem originates during our growth in adolescence. If we grow 5, 6, 7, or even 10 centimeters in a year, our muscles cannot keep up without practice—and which teenager wants to practice? Very few. The muscles cannot grow quickly enough and remain short. That is why adolescents often cannot touch their knees, let alone the floor. From that time, we have the root of our flexibility problem and insufficiently long muscles. When I say more ghee, I mean normally one teaspoon, maybe two—not half a kilogram. We must use common sense; that is very important. But for practicing and being able to perform not just Paścimottānāsana but all āsanas involving muscle stretching, there is only one medicine: practice every day. The next problem: when we practice, we want significant results quickly and usually force too much. We make movements rapidly. Always imagine a rubber band, the kind used for sealing jars. As children, we played with them, putting them on a finger and shooting them, learning about force. After playing a few times, if you look carefully at the rubber, it is no longer smooth but has little fractures. The same happens with our muscles when we practice in a forceful, quick way. If we stretch too much to one side and immediately release, we do not benefit; we only injure ourselves. The rubber band gets a little fracture; our muscles heal, but as Swāmījī says, if a thread is broken and reconnected with a knot, you will always feel that knot. Similarly, your muscles will no longer be smooth and flexible like silk thread for pearls but will have many knots, which also reduces flexibility. Therefore, in yoga, we practice every āsana slowly. Our stretching is not forceful, short, and quick. Imagine putting only 10 grams of weight on one end of the rubber band and leaving it. Over time, the rubber will become longer and longer. However, it is also very important that if you only stretch, you will become like rubber. Very flexible young people, as I was at one stage, are always in a slumped position, and elders constantly tell them to straighten up. Too much flexibility without strength is not good. Conversely, if you only go to a fitness center for bodybuilding and develop big muscles, you will become tight and must practice more stretching. That is yoga: you must always find the middle way. As stated in the Bhagavad Gītā, a yogī is not one who is constantly fasting or constantly eating, nor one who practices too much or not at all. The right way involves not too much stretching and not too much muscle building. Both wind and a boat are needed to sail; not just one. The next problem, as mentioned, is wanting to achieve Paścimottānāsana in a short time—perhaps setting a goal to master it in 15 days. If you force too much, you will injure yourself. Mastering Paścimottānāsana can take a few years. We start from the first level, which is for students in a class, but we have already completed all eight levels. Did we? And we practiced āsanas daily. For us, it is possible to learn to perform Paścimottānāsana and other āsanas in a shorter time. Secondly, when we practice, the first āsana in the morning should not be Paścimottānāsana, as it could cause overextension. You need body-warming āsanas first, along with rolling and other preparatory movements. All āsanas from the second level are excellent for slowly stretching the back of the legs. It is very important not to use force but to utilize gravity. Gravity is excellent; sometimes it works against us, but mostly it is on our side. Using gravity means you must relax your body. What happens next? When we start to practice and stretch our muscles, at some point we feel something and say, "Oh, I feel pain." In that moment, we contract our body because nobody wants pain. Somehow, we lose understanding of our body, and anything beyond sitting in a chair drinking coffee is labeled as pain—physical or mental. But it is not pain; it is the initial stretching of your muscles. Secondly, a very important thing: you must enjoy performing your āsanas. If you want to accomplish anything in life, there is only one way: you must enjoy it. What does it mean to have inner fire and truly enjoy the practice? If you constantly suffer, thinking, "Oh my God, I must practice āsanas. I hate it, but I must," you will not succeed. We need seminars like this to understand the beauty and necessity of performing āsanas and other yoga techniques. When our morning sādhanā, our morning meditation, is no longer a chore—"I must practice because Swāmījī said so, and I hate this morning meditation"—but something we enjoy, then we understand. Thank God, I have the opportunity to do something for myself. When you feel many sensations in your muscles during āsana and begin to enjoy that moment, you achieve inner relaxation. With inner relaxation, your muscles immediately relax. Why am I so insistent every morning about Madhurī Mudrā? Because meditating in a seated position is serious work; we are often internally tense. But with a little smile, this Madhurī Mudrā, everything inside relaxes. You breathe better, and more importantly, bodily discomfort diminishes. Immediately, you lose some physical problems during meditation. During the International Day of Yoga, the Indian Embassy in Croatia, and I think worldwide, organized a film about the history of yoga. It contained a very interesting story about sculpture and what we can learn from observing statues, especially the mudrā and facial expressions, which explain mental states and levels of consciousness. When we practice āsana, we do not need a hysterical smile, as that also creates muscle tension—"I must be happy, everything is right." Instead, a nice, soft expression relaxes our deeper muscles and organs. In that state of mind, when you truly enjoy and love your practice, knowing the value of the āsana, you begin to practice. Mentally, you also know that mastering a position may take months or years, without forcing too much. As one bhajan says, "I will be with my Gurudev, and what will be, will be. If mokṣa comes, it comes." You are not running after it; you are simply enjoying the presence of your Master. Similarly, it is not crucial that you perform Paścimottānāsana perfectly, but that you are practicing because you like it and feel good inside. In that moment, the āsana simply happens. Two days ago, we practiced Uṣṭrāsana, fourth level. I still remember how I mastered this āsana—not the fourth level, but the fourth variation. I was leading a yoga class mostly for young people, and we were practicing the third variation of Uṣṭrāsana. Someone asked, "How does the fourth look?" I said, "I can’t do this," but then demonstrated, and in that moment, I performed the āsana. I also remember how I managed Nauli for the first time. I had tried for a long time with no success. One morning, I attempted Nauli, but nothing happened. In the afternoon, after bathing, I tried again, and in that moment, I succeeded. From then on, it has been possible. How does a child start to walk? It happens in one moment. It looks easy, but in that one moment, the child walks. How many times does the child fall on its buttocks? How many times does it fall down? But in one moment, it walks. The same applies to practicing āsana. Imagine if a child said, "I can’t do this." Or if a bird said, "I can’t fly." What do the mother and father birds do? For small things, he is a yoga teacher; for big things, he is a guru. But we say, "No, no... I can’t do this." You know the screaming? Why the screaming? Because of fear, our comfort zone. Try to understand this. Mostly, the problem with Paścimottānāsana is short muscles. Viśvagorājī asked me to explain how to manage this āsana. For a moment, I was frozen because, from my understanding, the only problem is short muscles—plus everything I have already said. I ran to Harriet to ask her opinion, and yes, short muscles. How do you manage this? Abhyāsa, abhyāsa. Practice every day. That is the secret, and then we will finish. When you are in the period of trying to perform an āsana, you must practice daily without too much force, because excessive force will make your muscles tighter the next day, and for the next three months you may not be able to do anything. That is why you find many advertisements in yoga magazines for a cream called Arnica Trauma Gel. This indicates it is not a good way to practice yoga. If you force too much, you will need Arnica gel. But if you practice correctly, you will not need it. You must practice every day. Afterward, you will surprise yourself. We have many āsanas, and sometimes we lack time to practice all of them. Do you ever perform one perfectly? It is never perfect; you can always do better. In mathematics, there is the concept of a limit—approaching but never quite reaching. You can always improve. And when you can perform an āsana almost excellently, you may not practice it for two or three weeks. Then, with a little body-warming at the beginning, you will still be able to do it. This is very important. During the learning period to reach the stage of performing an āsana, you need daily practice. But afterward, when you are able to perform it and move on to other āsanas, and time is limited, try to recall this āsana once a week or once every two weeks. It is like riding a bicycle, but if your muscles become very short again, you will have to start from the beginning. This applies not only to Paścimottānāsana but to almost all āsanas involving muscle stretching—not just forward bends but bends in other directions; the principle remains the same. Sudīpna Bhagavān Kī Jai.