I took a bit of a break from this blog. Life got a little hectic, and I just didn't feel any urge to write about my practice or my teaching. I had an opportunity cross my path, and that opportunity consumed me for a spell. Today, though, I felt a little of the old me back on track.
*******
From this point on, not only will I ponder and dwell on my teaching and on my practice, but I will also ponder and dwell on my business. I am now the owner of a yoga studio. Fancy that.
I am the last person in the world who sets goals. Seriously. For the longest time I had exactly two goals: build my own bicycle frame (done, some years ago) and ride my bicycle cross-country (still on the back burner). I never added to that list, at least not in any significant way. Instead I opted to life life flying by the seat of my pants, going wherever the wind takes me.
When I got bored with a place, I upped and left. I followed leads, interesting stories and people, sometimes the weather. I also lived in a way that I could pack up and leave again at a moment's notice, should the moment arise. Long before I committed to a Buddhist practice I vowed to live simply in material terms. It just felt right.
Still, as I lived and moved and traveled, I kept paring my life down more and more. Paring it down by whittling away excesses of thought, old emotional baggage that doesn't fit or work, outdated or no-longer-useful ideas about what I should do and how I should act. Eventually this whittling gave me a basic framework for how I wanted to live. This framework helped guide my wayward travels.
It didn't give me goals, though. The framework meant "now I want a bikebuilding job" or "now I want to live near my friends again while I have a sweet bikebuilding job" or "now I want to move back to the west coast with the love of my life and take this job teaching people how to build bikes." I never planned for any of it.
I also never planned to become a yoga teacher. I just needed something else to do in this new hometown of mine. I had no one else but the fellow and our trusty mutt. I had to do something. Yoga was... is that something. When I wasn't teaching or riding or walking the dog or spending time with my partner-in-crime, I practiced. I practiced and meditated.
More whittling. Obviously. Suddenly life got simpler, again. And if life could simplify so beautifully for me, couldn't it for others? Couldn't I help?
I never planned to be a yoga teacher. I never planned to own a yoga studio. But here I am, with both those acts tucked under my belt. I never chose these acts as goals, but somehow this feels right.
*******
I taught a 6am class this morning. I figured it couldn't hurt to try something new. I had a number of students sign up, expressing interest in the class, but only a fraction attended. I opted to practice with them, as they were all solid practitioners. I hadn't done an early morning class in ages; not since back in the vinyasa-before-work days.
Silent classes offer an entirely different experience. I can let go of attachment to the dialogue and hold the space with my own body. It's a different responsibility, a different honor. I have to present a strong practice without ignoring the other bodies in the room. It's almost more intense, like I don't want to let anyone down. The class appreciated it. Silent classes definitely shake things up for people, almost always in a positive way.
The practice gave me energy to teach my second class. 17 students. (Now, of course, I pay more attention to attendance!) Another strong group. Two students returned to their practices after long absences, but I couldn't tell. No one faltered or struggled unnecessarily. I even had two of my more assertive students present, and still the class felt smooth. Today I felt very aware of the healing aspect of yoga, and I hope I offered that to my students.
I definitely needed a day like today.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
nouvelle vague
Today, I am certain of absolutely nothing. My life can take any one of many paths, and I have no idea which to choose.
So it's pretty much an average day in anyone's life.
*******
How do we justify a searing need for change in the world with the truth that we already have all we need and are all we need to be? I can't help feeling that all too often, the privileged fall prey to inaction and apathy under the guise of "self-realization." Hell, the town where I live exists solely as an example of this egregious behavior. People come here "to heal," as so many say, not to do anything of substance. Apparently if we all meditate, shine our love lights in the right directions and align our chakras, we will achieve world peace. Seriously! That is all we need to do! That, and drive Priuses and eat "free-range" eggs.
And I want to commit to a life here? What the fuck?
Some small part of me wonders if it would be a copout to split town and end up somewhere where everyone thinks like me. Perhaps the best way to be an agent for change is to shake things up for the comfortable.
Fuck. I don't know. I wish I did. All I do know is this: just because I can spend 90 minutes twisting and stretching in a hot room and I can sit for hours on end doing what looks like nothing doesn't mean I've squashed my innate urge to throw bricks.
*******
Finally had a newbie in class today. It's been a while. Though yesterday's all-veteran class pretty much owned. I love having opportunities to deepen practices and really deepen my teaching.
I always get tickled when tough-looking fellows come in to do Bikram. They walk in the room, set up their mats... and promptly step out again to ask, "Does it get hotter?" It's especially great when said toughies practice alongside some of our older and more petite ladies, as was the case this afternoon. He had a great attitude, though; very attentive and focused. Plus he hung in for the whole class. I needed the shake-up of some new blood in the room. I, of all people, don't like getting too comfortable.
So it's pretty much an average day in anyone's life.
*******
How do we justify a searing need for change in the world with the truth that we already have all we need and are all we need to be? I can't help feeling that all too often, the privileged fall prey to inaction and apathy under the guise of "self-realization." Hell, the town where I live exists solely as an example of this egregious behavior. People come here "to heal," as so many say, not to do anything of substance. Apparently if we all meditate, shine our love lights in the right directions and align our chakras, we will achieve world peace. Seriously! That is all we need to do! That, and drive Priuses and eat "free-range" eggs.
And I want to commit to a life here? What the fuck?
Some small part of me wonders if it would be a copout to split town and end up somewhere where everyone thinks like me. Perhaps the best way to be an agent for change is to shake things up for the comfortable.
Fuck. I don't know. I wish I did. All I do know is this: just because I can spend 90 minutes twisting and stretching in a hot room and I can sit for hours on end doing what looks like nothing doesn't mean I've squashed my innate urge to throw bricks.
*******
Finally had a newbie in class today. It's been a while. Though yesterday's all-veteran class pretty much owned. I love having opportunities to deepen practices and really deepen my teaching.
I always get tickled when tough-looking fellows come in to do Bikram. They walk in the room, set up their mats... and promptly step out again to ask, "Does it get hotter?" It's especially great when said toughies practice alongside some of our older and more petite ladies, as was the case this afternoon. He had a great attitude, though; very attentive and focused. Plus he hung in for the whole class. I needed the shake-up of some new blood in the room. I, of all people, don't like getting too comfortable.
Monday, September 1, 2008
"i'll put it in simple words: working men are pissed"
Ah, Labor Day. 126 years of celebratin' the workin' man (and lady, natch). And how do I contribute to that celebration? By workin'. I can only cop to the fact that teaching a yoga class falls into a different category of "work." No more delivering packages for multinational corporations and Ivy League universities. No more turning wrenches for commuting lawyers and professors. No more teaching kids in the inner cities how to turn those wrenches and eventually pick up my slack. No more building bicycle frames for celebrities, world champion athletes and wealthy doctors. No, now I build human frames.
And yet... I miss all that. Folks might assume a move away from the blue collar uniform would be an improvement. For some folks, maybe. For me... I am not so sure. There is something to be said for physical labor, for work that results in tangible outcome and contributes to the happiness and success of others.
As a society we are moving away from human production work. Unless, of course, one lives in China. There some folks labor endlessly on some useless trinkets or machines to steal our leisure time. We make our money in service these days. Service or on the web. In the intangible ether of the internet. What exists for those of us who don't want to serve cheap chemical food and drink, for those of us who don't want to manufacture dollar-store junk or computers?
I am no Luddite. Clearly, or else I would be etching these words into stone. I do, however, live a limited-digital life. I believe in human power for more than just transportation. I believe in rescuing old goods and restoring them to proper use. I believe in losing myself in labor as meditation, with a beautiful end result.
But the world doesn't operate like that anymore. So where do I find my happiness, my fulfillment?
I sometimes sense that usefulness as I teach a yoga class. As much as I value physical labor, I also value work that creates positive change. Work with a cumulative domino effect. Hence the years teaching kids to repair bicycles. I hope that as I teach I create change, on an individual level and across each entire class. I know to avoid attaching my own intention to everyone's practice. At the same time I reckon if each student can find his/her own peace, perhaps s/he brings that out into the world and helps it along in that direction.
How does one of working-class means free oneself from attachment? The two aims seem almost contradictory. Working with other laborers for justice means having a goal. Practicing yoga means letting go of a goal. How do I reconcile these two worlds?
Today, I do not have the answer.
*******
21 students this morning. Autumn is coming. One fellow took his first class yesterday, and did very well. He definitely likes the yoga. I also had two travelers; latecomers whom I welcomed with open arms. One might think that since the room was already busy I'd take a pass on them. Instead I figured why the fuck not? and I added them to the mass. One was a former studio owner, which was a pleasant surprise.
As it's been a while since I'd taught such a large class I felt a bit clunky, out of my rhythm. No one seemed to mind. It did dawn on me yesterday that one's perception of a teacher really stems from one's perception of one's class. If you feel good and strong, then you love the teacher. If you're distracted, tired, achy, then the teacher sucks. So I'm slowly learning to let go of the need to please or entertain the class. Folks seemed happy, regardless.
*******
Post title courtesy of the Minutemen.
And yet... I miss all that. Folks might assume a move away from the blue collar uniform would be an improvement. For some folks, maybe. For me... I am not so sure. There is something to be said for physical labor, for work that results in tangible outcome and contributes to the happiness and success of others.
As a society we are moving away from human production work. Unless, of course, one lives in China. There some folks labor endlessly on some useless trinkets or machines to steal our leisure time. We make our money in service these days. Service or on the web. In the intangible ether of the internet. What exists for those of us who don't want to serve cheap chemical food and drink, for those of us who don't want to manufacture dollar-store junk or computers?
I am no Luddite. Clearly, or else I would be etching these words into stone. I do, however, live a limited-digital life. I believe in human power for more than just transportation. I believe in rescuing old goods and restoring them to proper use. I believe in losing myself in labor as meditation, with a beautiful end result.
But the world doesn't operate like that anymore. So where do I find my happiness, my fulfillment?
I sometimes sense that usefulness as I teach a yoga class. As much as I value physical labor, I also value work that creates positive change. Work with a cumulative domino effect. Hence the years teaching kids to repair bicycles. I hope that as I teach I create change, on an individual level and across each entire class. I know to avoid attaching my own intention to everyone's practice. At the same time I reckon if each student can find his/her own peace, perhaps s/he brings that out into the world and helps it along in that direction.
How does one of working-class means free oneself from attachment? The two aims seem almost contradictory. Working with other laborers for justice means having a goal. Practicing yoga means letting go of a goal. How do I reconcile these two worlds?
Today, I do not have the answer.
*******
21 students this morning. Autumn is coming. One fellow took his first class yesterday, and did very well. He definitely likes the yoga. I also had two travelers; latecomers whom I welcomed with open arms. One might think that since the room was already busy I'd take a pass on them. Instead I figured why the fuck not? and I added them to the mass. One was a former studio owner, which was a pleasant surprise.
As it's been a while since I'd taught such a large class I felt a bit clunky, out of my rhythm. No one seemed to mind. It did dawn on me yesterday that one's perception of a teacher really stems from one's perception of one's class. If you feel good and strong, then you love the teacher. If you're distracted, tired, achy, then the teacher sucks. So I'm slowly learning to let go of the need to please or entertain the class. Folks seemed happy, regardless.
*******
Post title courtesy of the Minutemen.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
the story of the blog title, the glory of man
The Minutemen. Also known as the greatest band in the history of the world.
I wanted to find some way to keep this on my main page permanently, but I couldn't figure out how to make that happen. Not today anyway.
Big weekend class this morning, full o' regulars. Nothing unusual, and nothing terrible. Just a class, as always. It was really hot inside and really cool outside. It definitely made for a challenge in monitoring the temperature.
Oh... I did have one interesting situation. We have a diabetic gentleman who comes to the studio as often as he can. He does not live nearby, so his practice is hit-or-miss. I had him faint in one of my early classes, which honestly was a great experience for me to have as a new teacher. Seriously. Today he definitely had a hard class. He actually left the room at one point. Normally I find that really off-putting, but considering our history together I let it slide. He took a while to return, which led me to step out of the studio for a second to check on him. Fortunately he sat right by the door, and took the sight of me as a sign he should (and could) return. So he did. And he proceeded to stay in savasana for the rest of the class (he returned after the spine strengthening series). As I got the rest of the class into the final savasana, I noticed him sit up very quickly and ready himself to leave. Apparently he fell asleep in class. Ha! He told me after he'd left the room, "I didn't sleep so well last night."
I find myself on the fence about what to do in such situations. I wish folks would let go of their patterns (reaching for water incessantly, wiping and fidgeting, leaving the room in the middle of the practice), but at the same time I know it helps to let folks figure shit out on their own. I was inspired in a way after reading (and finally finishing!) Sit Down and Shut Up by Brad Warner. In one chapter he addresses the very American tendency Buddhists have to turn the practice into a "hey maaan, just do what you like maaan... like sit however you want and meditate maaan" type of spirituality. Which is really bullshit. There is a way to sit zazen, and it should be followed.
Discipline need not be a bad thing. It can also be supplanting negative patterns with positive ones. I know I struggle with the notion of discipline (and rules and structure) because its itchy fabric irritates my sensitive anarchist skin. But I, of all people, should know that living life without a little structure can lead to madness or worse.
The key is: how does the tattooed anarchist Bikram teacher express discipline in a positive light?
Friday, August 29, 2008
labor days
I've been teaching doubles for the past two days, and tomorrow I teach again. I do believe it was the right thing to do post-vacation. I needed to reconnect with my students and with my own self as a teacher. It puts a damper on practicing, but whatever.
I also taught my first official private class yesterday morning. Today we practiced again. We have a woman who travels to our studio once a year for an extended "vacation" because she loves our space so much. I don't know if I should state her name here in my blog. I have no illusions about having a huge audience, but again, this is a public space. I will say that she was born with serious medical issues that affected her entire life. Unlike many students of yoga, she's starting from yards behind the blocks, if you can pick up what I'm putting down. Yet she does not let that influence her outlook. She has a profound love for yoga, as it has given her greater health benefits than any surgical procedure. She's willing to put so much of herself into her practice. When she is in my class, it changes how I perceive my students. I won't lie. When I see one of my regulars, a burly outdoorsman who fidgets and breathes loudly and basically distracts, in class with this woman, I have to use every ounce of my own strength to keep from yelling, "BIG GUY! Quitcher bellyachin'! If that little lady can do locust without all that fuss, so can you!"
Anyway.
I appreciated her willingness to let novice teacher me lead her in a private class. Since she's lived her entire life advocating for her own health, she had no qualms about telling me what to do. And I loved it! Really. How fortunate I am to have a student so willing to let me learn, and pay me for it. She wants teachers who are willing to work with her, to adjust her and allow her body to develop the muscle memory it needs to simply do what the rest of us take for granted. I honestly felt blessed to work with her.
Also, working with a body that could, in some respects, withstand so much manipulation let me learn some more about what the yoga does overall and in individual postures. I feel more confident about adjustments and corrections I'll make in my regular classes.
Other teachin' stories: I also got to teach one of the greatest newbs ever. He's actually a bit of a legend at our studio, as he called us several times a day trying to get all the details he'd need to practice with us. His voicemail messages prepared us for him, for sure. He'd taken a few classes with us before I got to teach him, though I personally experienced him as I practiced only once. Dude is a motherfuckin' trip. He came to our studio, claiming he'd practiced Bikram before. But Dude had no idea. Apparently he'd practiced with someone claiming to be a Bikram instructor... who taught an hourlong class, with music and no heat. Dude (I will call him "Dude" from here on out. Why not?!) had no idea about our pranayama. Still doesn't. I almost want to film him practicing, 'cause it's out of this world. Cruel and un-yoga-like, I know. I should be sympathetic, because hell... we all have our first classes and what-not. But Dude is seriously on some next shit. I just wish I had words to describe him.
He is also a mega-talker. Shoulda figured that out from the legion of voicemails. It makes for an interesting front desk experience. When I taught he asked me why our studio doesn't play music during class. I gave him the Bikram line, to which he responds, "Well, what if I brought in my own music? Like, with headphones?"
How does a yoga teacher respond to that question?! For reals! Next shit!
I tried to explain the need for the dialogue, especially in a Bikram beginning class. Dude says, "Well, once I figure out all the postures I can just do the class on my own." Not in a dismissive way, at all; more like: "I can come in a do the yoga on my own time with everyone else!" ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! I'm thinkin': why you comin' here and spendin' money then, Dude?
It is hard not to laugh. Again: so uncouth and I am sure the spirit of Krishnamacharya wants to poop on my head (at the very least). But I swear on Buddha's baby toes, the laughter comes from a place of love. I am genuinely tickled to experience Dude in my class and at the studio. Such unabashed self-confidence in the face of the crazy Bikram beginning series inspires awe and happiness.
Enough of this hippie-love bullpucky for tonight.
I also taught my first official private class yesterday morning. Today we practiced again. We have a woman who travels to our studio once a year for an extended "vacation" because she loves our space so much. I don't know if I should state her name here in my blog. I have no illusions about having a huge audience, but again, this is a public space. I will say that she was born with serious medical issues that affected her entire life. Unlike many students of yoga, she's starting from yards behind the blocks, if you can pick up what I'm putting down. Yet she does not let that influence her outlook. She has a profound love for yoga, as it has given her greater health benefits than any surgical procedure. She's willing to put so much of herself into her practice. When she is in my class, it changes how I perceive my students. I won't lie. When I see one of my regulars, a burly outdoorsman who fidgets and breathes loudly and basically distracts, in class with this woman, I have to use every ounce of my own strength to keep from yelling, "BIG GUY! Quitcher bellyachin'! If that little lady can do locust without all that fuss, so can you!"
Anyway.
I appreciated her willingness to let novice teacher me lead her in a private class. Since she's lived her entire life advocating for her own health, she had no qualms about telling me what to do. And I loved it! Really. How fortunate I am to have a student so willing to let me learn, and pay me for it. She wants teachers who are willing to work with her, to adjust her and allow her body to develop the muscle memory it needs to simply do what the rest of us take for granted. I honestly felt blessed to work with her.
Also, working with a body that could, in some respects, withstand so much manipulation let me learn some more about what the yoga does overall and in individual postures. I feel more confident about adjustments and corrections I'll make in my regular classes.
Other teachin' stories: I also got to teach one of the greatest newbs ever. He's actually a bit of a legend at our studio, as he called us several times a day trying to get all the details he'd need to practice with us. His voicemail messages prepared us for him, for sure. He'd taken a few classes with us before I got to teach him, though I personally experienced him as I practiced only once. Dude is a motherfuckin' trip. He came to our studio, claiming he'd practiced Bikram before. But Dude had no idea. Apparently he'd practiced with someone claiming to be a Bikram instructor... who taught an hourlong class, with music and no heat. Dude (I will call him "Dude" from here on out. Why not?!) had no idea about our pranayama. Still doesn't. I almost want to film him practicing, 'cause it's out of this world. Cruel and un-yoga-like, I know. I should be sympathetic, because hell... we all have our first classes and what-not. But Dude is seriously on some next shit. I just wish I had words to describe him.
He is also a mega-talker. Shoulda figured that out from the legion of voicemails. It makes for an interesting front desk experience. When I taught he asked me why our studio doesn't play music during class. I gave him the Bikram line, to which he responds, "Well, what if I brought in my own music? Like, with headphones?"
How does a yoga teacher respond to that question?! For reals! Next shit!
I tried to explain the need for the dialogue, especially in a Bikram beginning class. Dude says, "Well, once I figure out all the postures I can just do the class on my own." Not in a dismissive way, at all; more like: "I can come in a do the yoga on my own time with everyone else!" ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! I'm thinkin': why you comin' here and spendin' money then, Dude?
It is hard not to laugh. Again: so uncouth and I am sure the spirit of Krishnamacharya wants to poop on my head (at the very least). But I swear on Buddha's baby toes, the laughter comes from a place of love. I am genuinely tickled to experience Dude in my class and at the studio. Such unabashed self-confidence in the face of the crazy Bikram beginning series inspires awe and happiness.
Enough of this hippie-love bullpucky for tonight.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
another day, another asana
12 students. No newbs. It's hard to teach after you've spent part of the previous night crying instead of sleeping. I won't get into that here. Class still felt good, despite that. My students were strong, and I kept a good pace. I can't say much more than that.
I did have a really interesting conversation after class, and it helped relieve, a bit, some of the stress that caused the tears. Again, won't get into that here.
I am teaching my very first private class tomorrow morning, before my usual 9am. I am excited.
Not much into writing today. Probably because of this awful headache I have right now. Computerin' probably isn't helping.
I did have a really interesting conversation after class, and it helped relieve, a bit, some of the stress that caused the tears. Again, won't get into that here.
I am teaching my very first private class tomorrow morning, before my usual 9am. I am excited.
Not much into writing today. Probably because of this awful headache I have right now. Computerin' probably isn't helping.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
blah-blah-blog
Back from vacation. Actually I've been home for three days. Taught this morning and yesterday morning. 12 students yesterday, 11 today. Some folks seem happy to see me again, others probably never really noticed I was gone. One person in particular almost seemed annoyed at having to deal with me.
For whatever reason things have been off since I've returned. I know the reason, to be honest, but I don't care to divulge in a public forum. Suffice it to say: things are different now. I am not sure of my place at the studio anymore. I don't like this feeling, at all. Perhaps it will pass.
So of course my teaching felt off, not so strong these last two days. Yesterday I surprised myself by getting through the entire class and remembering all the dialogue. Today I had one momentary lapse, where I forgot my place in the series but managed to sail on through with no delay. No beginners for me either day, though yesterday I did have a strange woman who insisted on letting herself into the studio well after class began. When I told her that sorry, class has begun, she said, "What? You mean I can't come in?" "No, no I'm sorry. Class has already begun," I repeated. She then shrugged at me and huffed off. Unusual.
I don't know. Not really feeling it these days. Perhaps it will come back soon.
For whatever reason things have been off since I've returned. I know the reason, to be honest, but I don't care to divulge in a public forum. Suffice it to say: things are different now. I am not sure of my place at the studio anymore. I don't like this feeling, at all. Perhaps it will pass.
So of course my teaching felt off, not so strong these last two days. Yesterday I surprised myself by getting through the entire class and remembering all the dialogue. Today I had one momentary lapse, where I forgot my place in the series but managed to sail on through with no delay. No beginners for me either day, though yesterday I did have a strange woman who insisted on letting herself into the studio well after class began. When I told her that sorry, class has begun, she said, "What? You mean I can't come in?" "No, no I'm sorry. Class has already begun," I repeated. She then shrugged at me and huffed off. Unusual.
I don't know. Not really feeling it these days. Perhaps it will come back soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
