I can say only one thing about today:
My students gave me a Mother's Day card. Not just any card. An OVERSIZED card. I need to get a photo. It is hilarious. I do love the sentiment; the student who brought the card told me I deserve it because I am the yoga mom. Yeah, hilarious... especially since I can easily be the daughter of three-quarters of my students. I suppose inheriting my own mother's nurturing instinct finally has an outlet.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
how do you achieve enlightenment? practice practice practice
Yesterday I wrote of cycles, and attempting to learn from past experiences and situations. Of course today would present to me the opportunity to put my money where my mouth is.
Fairly standard class this morning. 16 students, if I recall correctly. One newbie, two late arrivals and a second newb who pulled on the locked studio door at 9:01 (for my 9am class) and acted surprised that I wasn't interested in letting her in. I especially liked the fact that she told me she'd never been to our studio before and she also had to drop her daughter off at school. If I could have scratched my head at that comment, i would have, but instead I apologized and told her I had a class to teach.
Right now I keep mulling over the difference between being a disciplinarian and a control freak. Some would call me the latter, and some have in the past. I think I'm learning how to let go of what I cannot control, and this pleases me. This does not mean, however, that I just take shit as it comes. A 9am class should start at 9am, dig? A ninety-minute class should finish in ninety minutes, if you smell what I'm cookin'. Insisting on punctuality and continuity feels more like discipline to me, not control. So I can insist that you're ready to practice at 9am, but I won't stress out if I can't control your tardiness.
My afternoon practice meant more time to mull over this distinction. First I noticed several students setting up their mats rather haphazardly, basically insisting on being as close to doors and windows as possible despite anyone who might have already staked claim in that real estate. This meant I had a student literally on top of me (and I was in the second row!) as well as another student who parked himself right in front of me, leaving me no room to see myself in the mirror. No worries. I just took my breaths and got on with my practice.
The fellow in front of me also happens to be one of my challenges. He chooses to do postures his own way, despite the fact that the Bikram series is rather specific. When I have him in my class I do what I can to keep him working with us, but it's often for naught. It seems my staff must agree, because no one else calls him on it. It definitely messed with my own practice, because how is it that someone who isn't representing the practice properly gets to stand in front of, and block, a teacher? But really... whatever. I can't control it. All I can control is what I do and how I present myself.
As much as I hope to step out of my mind when I practice, dealing with this challenging student inspired me. I came up with a few ways to encourage students to try the practice as we deliver it. Let's see if it works.
Fairly standard class this morning. 16 students, if I recall correctly. One newbie, two late arrivals and a second newb who pulled on the locked studio door at 9:01 (for my 9am class) and acted surprised that I wasn't interested in letting her in. I especially liked the fact that she told me she'd never been to our studio before and she also had to drop her daughter off at school. If I could have scratched my head at that comment, i would have, but instead I apologized and told her I had a class to teach.
Right now I keep mulling over the difference between being a disciplinarian and a control freak. Some would call me the latter, and some have in the past. I think I'm learning how to let go of what I cannot control, and this pleases me. This does not mean, however, that I just take shit as it comes. A 9am class should start at 9am, dig? A ninety-minute class should finish in ninety minutes, if you smell what I'm cookin'. Insisting on punctuality and continuity feels more like discipline to me, not control. So I can insist that you're ready to practice at 9am, but I won't stress out if I can't control your tardiness.
My afternoon practice meant more time to mull over this distinction. First I noticed several students setting up their mats rather haphazardly, basically insisting on being as close to doors and windows as possible despite anyone who might have already staked claim in that real estate. This meant I had a student literally on top of me (and I was in the second row!) as well as another student who parked himself right in front of me, leaving me no room to see myself in the mirror. No worries. I just took my breaths and got on with my practice.
The fellow in front of me also happens to be one of my challenges. He chooses to do postures his own way, despite the fact that the Bikram series is rather specific. When I have him in my class I do what I can to keep him working with us, but it's often for naught. It seems my staff must agree, because no one else calls him on it. It definitely messed with my own practice, because how is it that someone who isn't representing the practice properly gets to stand in front of, and block, a teacher? But really... whatever. I can't control it. All I can control is what I do and how I present myself.
As much as I hope to step out of my mind when I practice, dealing with this challenging student inspired me. I came up with a few ways to encourage students to try the practice as we deliver it. Let's see if it works.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
the more things change
In an attempt to satisfy my curiosity. I re-read my old entries. Long before I settled into a regular yoga practice, I had to acknowledge how my life moves in cycles. Everyone's lives do, in some way, but it started to feel crazy how I'd find myself in similar situations over and over again. I began to wonder if things happened for a reason, perhaps so I could finally learn something from all the messy predicaments in which I'd find myself. It took me a while, but I started learning. I began to accept the places where I could change things and the places where I couldn't. I can't always control what happens, but I can control my reactions and actions.
Now, to clarify: I'm not the type who buys into all the manifestation/The Secret-type BS. I can accept that karma exists, and sometimes we have to lie in the beds we've made. I am, however, the type of person who believes one should learn from one's successes and mistakes.
So here I am reading through old entries of my progress and experiences as I learn how to teach yoga, and I notice that I'm still experiencing a lot of the same things when I teach now as I did when I started teaching and started writing about it. What's different, though, is me.
Once upon a time I honestly felt it was my job to get people to change through their yoga practice. I also felt that my students had to leave my class happy, or at least in a better mood than when they started. None of this is true, or needs to be true for me to be a competent teacher. Because really, I'm not a teacher. I'm more of a facilitator.
When we're born we're given all the physical and mental tools we need to live. As we grow, shit happens to us and around us that messes up our access to these tools. (For some of us it was a LOT of shit happening. For others, not as much.) If we can give ourselves the space to really look at where we are in the present moment, we might realize that we already have everything we need. We just let ourselves get cluttered and distracted. If it were easy to clear those distractions, I'd imagine everyone would be a bit more content and we'd all be living happier, healthier, safer lives.
This is where I make my entrance.
You walk into my studio and you'll have an opportunity to stare yourself in the face, both literally and figuratively, for ninety minutes at a time. It might sound like I'm forcing you to do some intense stuff with your body, but really all I'm asking is that you turn your brain off, breathe, and take a look at what you've got. Some days that means seeing something awesome you didn't know you had. Other days it means acknowledging that you're in the shit and you might want to reconsider where you are. Either way, all I have to do is ask you to be honest and really look at yourself. And sometimes this means you leave a class with me and you are not happy.
If you're lucky, though, your body feels good enough to make you consider ignoring your cranky and unhappy brain, and you come back.
No matter what the end result of one practice, I'll be back if you want to try again. Whether you like me or not.
Now, to clarify: I'm not the type who buys into all the manifestation/The Secret-type BS. I can accept that karma exists, and sometimes we have to lie in the beds we've made. I am, however, the type of person who believes one should learn from one's successes and mistakes.
So here I am reading through old entries of my progress and experiences as I learn how to teach yoga, and I notice that I'm still experiencing a lot of the same things when I teach now as I did when I started teaching and started writing about it. What's different, though, is me.
Once upon a time I honestly felt it was my job to get people to change through their yoga practice. I also felt that my students had to leave my class happy, or at least in a better mood than when they started. None of this is true, or needs to be true for me to be a competent teacher. Because really, I'm not a teacher. I'm more of a facilitator.
When we're born we're given all the physical and mental tools we need to live. As we grow, shit happens to us and around us that messes up our access to these tools. (For some of us it was a LOT of shit happening. For others, not as much.) If we can give ourselves the space to really look at where we are in the present moment, we might realize that we already have everything we need. We just let ourselves get cluttered and distracted. If it were easy to clear those distractions, I'd imagine everyone would be a bit more content and we'd all be living happier, healthier, safer lives.
This is where I make my entrance.
You walk into my studio and you'll have an opportunity to stare yourself in the face, both literally and figuratively, for ninety minutes at a time. It might sound like I'm forcing you to do some intense stuff with your body, but really all I'm asking is that you turn your brain off, breathe, and take a look at what you've got. Some days that means seeing something awesome you didn't know you had. Other days it means acknowledging that you're in the shit and you might want to reconsider where you are. Either way, all I have to do is ask you to be honest and really look at yourself. And sometimes this means you leave a class with me and you are not happy.
If you're lucky, though, your body feels good enough to make you consider ignoring your cranky and unhappy brain, and you come back.
No matter what the end result of one practice, I'll be back if you want to try again. Whether you like me or not.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
inhale on the start, exhale as you hit
I have to blame roller derby for my absence from writing. It is only fair. I fell in love with something else, and it took me away from self-reflection. This has both positive and negative consequences, of course. My intention here was to blog about my yoga practice and the challenge of maintaining my own truth in the face of assumptions about those who practice yoga. So while a part of me feels a digression about derby means straying from the original path, a greater part of me wants to acknowledge that yoga is a lot more than the semi-pretzel maneuvers we do on a little rubber mat.
Reality is: I'm a big-city girl trapped in a small town that tries to act big. As much as I challenge myself to find peace of mind and contentment by sitting in meditation, I need an outlet for my excess energy and my outsized personality. I grew up watching the old school, banked track derby with my dad, and I spent far too much time attempting fancy tricks on a wooden board with wheels, so the fascination makes sense. Learning that there was a derby team in action nearby supplied me with one more way to burn off that excess energy and meet some more like-minded people.
I feel fortunate that I started this new journey with a few years of spiritual practice under my belt. It is amazing how often we can access the peace of mind that yoga brings even when we're far away from our studio or our mat. Finding myself in this very different, non-metropolitan area forces me to interact with folks who dwell on the polar opposite end of the political and social spectrum. Having patience at the ready makes it much easier to cope when things don't quite go my way.
And the breath! Oh, the breath. How having a reliable breathing practice helps when you're trying to build endurance that will last when you hit a bitch as hard as possible while skating at top speeds. (Classy, huh?) I find myself literally meditating on when to inhale and when to exhale to increase the force of my hip checks. I also appreciate finishing a particularly demanding endurance drill and still having plenty of energy to continue practice, while the rest of my team needs breaks. It stands as a testament to how powerful and not airy-fairy a truly consistent yoga practice can be.
I reckon that from this point forward more roller derby stuff creeps into my daily* introspections. Of course I still have all sorts of stuff rising to the surface about teaching and living my yoga, as well as my own practice. But this is a part of my life and practice now. So, here it is.
* Yes, I would like to say I'll be back to daily blogging. Perhaps as my friends struggle in daily yoga challenges, I will struggle with a regular writing practice. If they can do it...
Reality is: I'm a big-city girl trapped in a small town that tries to act big. As much as I challenge myself to find peace of mind and contentment by sitting in meditation, I need an outlet for my excess energy and my outsized personality. I grew up watching the old school, banked track derby with my dad, and I spent far too much time attempting fancy tricks on a wooden board with wheels, so the fascination makes sense. Learning that there was a derby team in action nearby supplied me with one more way to burn off that excess energy and meet some more like-minded people.
I feel fortunate that I started this new journey with a few years of spiritual practice under my belt. It is amazing how often we can access the peace of mind that yoga brings even when we're far away from our studio or our mat. Finding myself in this very different, non-metropolitan area forces me to interact with folks who dwell on the polar opposite end of the political and social spectrum. Having patience at the ready makes it much easier to cope when things don't quite go my way.
And the breath! Oh, the breath. How having a reliable breathing practice helps when you're trying to build endurance that will last when you hit a bitch as hard as possible while skating at top speeds. (Classy, huh?) I find myself literally meditating on when to inhale and when to exhale to increase the force of my hip checks. I also appreciate finishing a particularly demanding endurance drill and still having plenty of energy to continue practice, while the rest of my team needs breaks. It stands as a testament to how powerful and not airy-fairy a truly consistent yoga practice can be.
I reckon that from this point forward more roller derby stuff creeps into my daily* introspections. Of course I still have all sorts of stuff rising to the surface about teaching and living my yoga, as well as my own practice. But this is a part of my life and practice now. So, here it is.
* Yes, I would like to say I'll be back to daily blogging. Perhaps as my friends struggle in daily yoga challenges, I will struggle with a regular writing practice. If they can do it...
Monday, May 3, 2010
consider the date upped
No joke. I've been toying with the idea of resurrecting this blog for a while now. With my beloved faraway friend Suzie D.* blogging about her 30-day challenge, this is as good a time as any.
Except right this second frustration and a certain amount of sadness weigh heavily. Not exactly the best place to start again. Especially since I missed my practice today because of some incorrect information, only to spend most of my entire day dealing with a lot of bullshit and needing the serenity that comes with practice.
Lesson for today: do shit for yourself first. Sounds selfish, but it's starting to feel much more correct.
Better update next time.
*Technically Suzie D. is Suzie R. Or should I say legally she is. She'll always be Suzie D. to me.
Except right this second frustration and a certain amount of sadness weigh heavily. Not exactly the best place to start again. Especially since I missed my practice today because of some incorrect information, only to spend most of my entire day dealing with a lot of bullshit and needing the serenity that comes with practice.
Lesson for today: do shit for yourself first. Sounds selfish, but it's starting to feel much more correct.
Better update next time.
*Technically Suzie D. is Suzie R. Or should I say legally she is. She'll always be Suzie D. to me.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
do you want a workout, or do you want the truth?
Perhaps I am a bit more obsessive than I'd care to admit. When I find myself enthralled in a pursuit or idea, I need to know everything about it. I leave no inch unexamined. I throw myself wholeheartedly in my pursuit. Obviously yoga falls into this over-examined life. Some will argue about yoga's lineage, but no matter what hatha yoga has a history much longer than my own. It is nearly impossible for me to go to the source and get every query answered, every curiosity sated. I have to accept this. I can still enjoy the gem of yoga in my life, even as I wonder whether the shape I see is its true shape. How many hands have passed over each facet, softening and eroding its edges, leaving their distinct fingerprints? I want to accept what is, but I cannot quiet the part of my mind that wants answers.
Clearly yoga changed as it hit American shores. I mean, clearly. Duh. A practice moves from a more collective society (as far as I know, at least) to a far more individually-minded collection of people. Some folks care to celebrate the collective, while others choose to tweak the practice in order to attract the type A's and rugged individualists. I have no way to know which is closer to the "truth" (if such a thing exists).
When I teach I want my students to surrender ego and ambition and accept what is. I know I shouldn't "want" anything, really... but I have to admit to that. In the course of my own practice I've learned to let go of my own mind and accept my body in its current, present state. I cannot expect anything. I cannot make demands. I breathe, I listen, I move. Nothing more, nothing less. Of course not everyone chooses a physical practice as part of a more spiritual practice, but a girl like me can dream, right?
It gives me a chuckle to watch my kindly American students, here in Land-O'-Healin', Oregon, struggle so desperately against a hatha yoga practice. As an instructor I give my students direction, in order to shift the body and mind in a direction of healing and to avoid discomfort and injury in the process. Instead of accepting the instruction, more often than not students ignore it, choosing to move their bodies how they see fit.
All well and good... if you're in an interpretive dance class. But this is yoga.
Folks seem to think: Oh, it's just yoga! I'm just gonna do what feels right! If that's the case, then why bother paying a certified instructor to lead your practice? Why bother coming at all? Stay home and save your money... and get nowhere. No, really: do it.
Could you imagine the uproar at a stadium if a baseball player chose to run the bases in reverse? But this is what feels right! he tells us. Sweet, dude... but the game's got rules. Play by the rules, or go home. America won't stand for interpretive baseball.
One can make the case that hatha yoga is a physical practice, and as such should be divorced from any spiritual or mental practice. Make the case, but don't expect me to speak on your behalf. That's aerobics, or calisthenics. Not yoga. Have fun at the gym. If you're in my yoga class, follow the dialogue or go home. If the suit chafes, decide whether you really want to wear it, or if I've bruised your poor ego. If I have, then I've done my job. After a while you realize you can leave the ego at the door. One day you will forget it altogether, and it ends up in my lost-and-found basket. When that day comes, you can say you practice yoga.
Clearly yoga changed as it hit American shores. I mean, clearly. Duh. A practice moves from a more collective society (as far as I know, at least) to a far more individually-minded collection of people. Some folks care to celebrate the collective, while others choose to tweak the practice in order to attract the type A's and rugged individualists. I have no way to know which is closer to the "truth" (if such a thing exists).
When I teach I want my students to surrender ego and ambition and accept what is. I know I shouldn't "want" anything, really... but I have to admit to that. In the course of my own practice I've learned to let go of my own mind and accept my body in its current, present state. I cannot expect anything. I cannot make demands. I breathe, I listen, I move. Nothing more, nothing less. Of course not everyone chooses a physical practice as part of a more spiritual practice, but a girl like me can dream, right?
It gives me a chuckle to watch my kindly American students, here in Land-O'-Healin', Oregon, struggle so desperately against a hatha yoga practice. As an instructor I give my students direction, in order to shift the body and mind in a direction of healing and to avoid discomfort and injury in the process. Instead of accepting the instruction, more often than not students ignore it, choosing to move their bodies how they see fit.
All well and good... if you're in an interpretive dance class. But this is yoga.
Folks seem to think: Oh, it's just yoga! I'm just gonna do what feels right! If that's the case, then why bother paying a certified instructor to lead your practice? Why bother coming at all? Stay home and save your money... and get nowhere. No, really: do it.
Could you imagine the uproar at a stadium if a baseball player chose to run the bases in reverse? But this is what feels right! he tells us. Sweet, dude... but the game's got rules. Play by the rules, or go home. America won't stand for interpretive baseball.
One can make the case that hatha yoga is a physical practice, and as such should be divorced from any spiritual or mental practice. Make the case, but don't expect me to speak on your behalf. That's aerobics, or calisthenics. Not yoga. Have fun at the gym. If you're in my yoga class, follow the dialogue or go home. If the suit chafes, decide whether you really want to wear it, or if I've bruised your poor ego. If I have, then I've done my job. After a while you realize you can leave the ego at the door. One day you will forget it altogether, and it ends up in my lost-and-found basket. When that day comes, you can say you practice yoga.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
half-assed update
I am, in fact, very much alive and well. Perhaps too alive to keep up with a blog. To sit and write creates this weird conflict in my little brain. I don't want to recap my life, or even my thought processes. I want to do stuff. Y'know, live. Yes, I did just write that. How very high school of me.
The vertigo is long gone. I think I just pissed it off enough to make it leave. I told it it was no longer welcome, and it split. Fancy that. Except it's never really that easy. I've been sick more often this past winter than I have in my entire adult life. I've lost my voice not once but twice. (And the hippies often explain losing one's voice as a conflict over speaking one's truth.) Now I have a bum knee, again.
Someone once told me that if something isn't quite right in your life, it can manifest itself in your body.
I chafe a bit, wondering if I've made the right decisions for myself in recent days, weeks, months. I love teaching yoga. Really, I do. Somehow I've managed to keep myself honest and sane as I teach, and as I transitioned into studio ownership. But still... something's missing. Or something's taking up too much space, since I can't seem to keep my life under control.
I don't know. I didn't write this to clear shit up. I just wanted to post something new, finally. I intended to suss things out a bit more, but instead I spent my post-teaching morning comforting a friend who just put down her dog. Sad.
The vertigo is long gone. I think I just pissed it off enough to make it leave. I told it it was no longer welcome, and it split. Fancy that. Except it's never really that easy. I've been sick more often this past winter than I have in my entire adult life. I've lost my voice not once but twice. (And the hippies often explain losing one's voice as a conflict over speaking one's truth.) Now I have a bum knee, again.
Someone once told me that if something isn't quite right in your life, it can manifest itself in your body.
I chafe a bit, wondering if I've made the right decisions for myself in recent days, weeks, months. I love teaching yoga. Really, I do. Somehow I've managed to keep myself honest and sane as I teach, and as I transitioned into studio ownership. But still... something's missing. Or something's taking up too much space, since I can't seem to keep my life under control.
I don't know. I didn't write this to clear shit up. I just wanted to post something new, finally. I intended to suss things out a bit more, but instead I spent my post-teaching morning comforting a friend who just put down her dog. Sad.
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