"Unfinished Journey - Twenty Years Later" by Yehudi Menuhin - Excerpts from the Autobiography
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Yehudi Menuhin
In his autobiography, written in two stages over twenty years, Yehudi Menuhin narrates how from a world-renowned violin virtuoso he became a versatile musician: a conductor, educator, organizer of musical life, and, above all, an artist aware of his responsibilities arising from his status as a public figure and a deep conviction in the humanistic mission of music, which can unite people beyond ethnic, cultural, and political divides. He speaks a lot about himself as a person: his interests, fascinations, friendships, family, and the pursuit of spiritual self-improvement. We present an excerpt concerning yoga and his meeting with B.K.S. Iyengar.
On the day Diana and I were to leave Delhi for Agra, I was taken at four in the morning to see one of the most revered gurus, perhaps eighty years old, a bearded sage, naked except for a loincloth, surrounded by students, performing exercises on a leopard skin in a forest clearing. Like many other things in India, respect for this small ceremony forced acceptance of life in all its manifestations. We, people of the West, have irretrievably lost this respect. We debase the body, shame it, and cover its shame, while Hindu wisdom—with its erotic sculptures on temples and yoga—pays full tribute to the body out of gratitude, celebrating it. If our stance is partly the fault of Christianity, Jesus is not responsible for it. Anyone who takes the trouble to read the Gospel according to Saint John in the Nosterian writing will see that Jesus, like the Hindus, teaches that we should take care of the body, emphasizing that it needs air, sunlight, and water. Only His Puritanical worshippers separated the body from the spirit and established a barrier of hell and heaven between them. In the cool of the morning in the forest, I took off my clothes to learn from the old Hindu saint to respect the body.
There were also other gurus and lessons, but only when I met Iyengar, who was not a bearded ascetic but a good young man with a wife and children, did I begin to take regular lessons. We met in Bombay. At the urging of a mutual friend, he came to meet me from Pune and appeared one morning in my apartment. With a sort of authority, he immediately made it clear that the audience would be for both of us. He did not doubt my status, yet he had never heard of me before. Despite all my fame, I was just another twisted body of a man from the West to him. I warned him that I could only devote five minutes of my busy day to him. He told me to lie still and touched various parts of my body here and there. I woke up an hour later. I felt more rested than ever before. Just like in other "revelations" in my life, this too began with a certain spell being cast. Later, Iyengar gained recognition beyond the borders of India, became the author of a comprehensive treatise on yoga, and a sought-after lecturer at foreign universities. Due to the rush of commitments, we saw each other less frequently, but for about fifteen years he would visit me in Europe, and whenever I traveled to India, he was by my side the whole time, uncovering the secrets of yoga for me every day.
The word "yoga" means union. The purpose of the exercises is to achieve a connection with infinity, which can be approached via many paths, although there is one end and one beginning. Mastery of the asanas of hatha yoga is a prerequisite for embarking on this path. Yoga can become a life goal, devoting more and more time to perfecting it, yet that was never my intention. For me, yoga is primarily a measure of inner peace: if we are ruled by depression, jealousy, greed, or other human pleasures and temptations, if our lungs are being destroyed by nicotine, and our stomachs by alcohol, then we cannot breathe deeply, evenly, and calmly, as yoga teaches. It starts with calm concentration, and when the breath becomes peaceful and the body flexible, it is time to begin the asanas, enjoy balance, flexibility, and self-awareness of our potential. Yoga helps me maintain a good sense of well-being, allowing me to work more and better.
Yoga has made an invaluable contribution to my quest for a conscious understanding of the mechanics of playing the violin, which has long been the guiding theme of my life. (pp. 279 - 281)
When I established the direction of my search, each experience pushed me further: my own exercises, exchanging experiences with other violinists, the laws of physics, a journey to India, and above all, yoga, which taught me what I might have taken years to discover on my own. All influences indicated that one should strive for less tension, a more efficient use of energy, overcoming resistance in every joint, and coordinating all movements into one. It turned out that strength does not come from muscle tension but from a subtle understanding of playing, from a sense of proportion and balance.
Those of us who acquire bad habits in playing the violin must—before overcoming them—experience a point of zero tension, perhaps akin to a place in purgatory where sinners shed their old identity. One must get rid of past strength and endure a period of "powerlessness." One could say that my purgatory began with a lesson brought by Iyengar. Forty-five years have passed, enough time to see that the long and hard work done in the middle of my career has resulted in achievements of which I am now proud. (p. 284)
When circumstances allow, I rise before others awaken, practice yoga in the silence of the early morning, and then return to bed for an hour as the rest of the world rises. Washed, refreshed, stretched, I am ready to meet the violins reserved for the morning. However, I am not a slave to routine, even my own. Although playing is important to me, people are more important, and their needs take precedence over the needs of the violins. (p. 341)
Perhaps the greatest achievement of a person is to reach old age while maintaining clarity of mind, a sense of humor, health, and charm. I keep these older ladies in the gallery of my memory, visiting them there with admiration and gratitude. They, in turn, compensate for the lack of a grandmother in my life.
One of them was Queen Elisabeth of Belgium. She was not only a violinist and a patron of music but also a brave monarch who defended her subjects against the German occupier, despite being of German descent herself, and who, disregarding criticism, traveled to Russia and Poland after the war. She practiced yoga with Iyengar, my guru. At the age of eighty, she felt so youthful that she learned how to do a headstand. (p. 344 - 345)
The reader has probably guessed that, in the opinion of quite a large group of people, I have a health obsession. My interests stem from genuine curiosity and the pursuit of understanding human nature in all its dimensions. I rarely allow myself to drink alcohol, enjoy lavish meals, or indulge in other pleasures, partly due to the discipline required by my lifestyle. Humanity has always sought to free itself from the pain of existence and to reduce the tension in which it lives, searching for new pleasures, means of satisfaction, ecstasy, or relief. Such things that don't lead to dangerous addictions are certainly acceptable, provided moderation is maintained. For me, spiritual refuge has always been music; however, for a long time, I could not find refuge for my body. Eventually, yoga became that refuge. Through practicing it, I discovered that by relaxing in a restorative pose at the end of the exercises, I experience an unparalleled feeling of bliss. It comes after many exercises of breathing, stretching, balancing, and twisting in various ways. The body achieves a natural state of complete relaxation, much deeper than sleep. The mind is completely empty, cleansed of fears and dreams. Finally, a wonderful tingling sensation appears in the tips of my fingers and toes, indicating that I am balancing on the edge of awareness. Yoga helped me realize that bliss can be achieved through natural means, without resorting to artificial methods.
The most important element of yoga is mastering the breath. The exhale is more crucial here because it allows us to speak and sing; the inhale occurs automatically. The relaxation of the body and mind positively influences all life functions in the body. Basic body movements—rocking, stretching, walking on uneven terrain, swinging legs and arms—bring good health and joy. I believe that the need to vent our frustrations onto others often roots in a lack of outlets for the overwhelming emotions that I have found through practicing yoga. (p. 456)
Yehudi Menuhin 'Unfinished Journey: Twenty Years Later', Felberg SJA Publishing, Warsaw 2003
The practice of yoga restores the original sense of measure and proportion. Brought back to our own body, our first instrument, we learn to play it, attempting to extract maximum resonance and harmony. With unwavering patience, we cleanse and invigorate every cell of the body daily as we engage to unblock and unleash possibilities that we have already condemned to frustration and death.
From the foreword to "Light on Yoga" by B.K.S. Iyengar
Once again, I would like to express my gratitude for the practice I underwent this summer. It
