Defining Myself as a Teacher of Yoga

I mentioned in my previous blog post that life events seemed to be pulling me deeper into teaching yoga, despite my plans to develop other aspects of my health and wellness consultancy, such as Reiki and Eating Psychology Coaching. Since then, I've also noticed that I'm being asked to identify what I really value when I teach yoga to a group of students. Here's the example that's driving this reflection.

I currently teach a range of yoga classes. In a single week, I may teach (in order of advertised difficulty): restorative or chair yoga, gentle yoga, hatha yoga, vinyasa flow yoga, and hot power yoga. Currently the former classes occur mostly at a studio; the latter at various local gyms.

What I often hear from students at the gyms is that my teaching is "slow". Most quickly follow that description with smiles and gratitude, telling me how much they appreciate it. A few seemingly present it to me with some disdain, as if I'd somehow gotten in the way of their intense stretching workout. Yet even when I create and offer faster and more challenging sequences for the super fit gym yogis, I watch as they consistently:

• Don't align themselves in the postures correctly, regardless of my cues
• Can't keep up with the speed of the flow
• Take respite in child's pose (which is awesome, by the way!)
• Are dripping sweat
• Can't focus their attention 
• Can't coordinate their breath with their movements
• Scrunch up their faces and hold their breath
• And so on....

Now, I'm not saying this to rag on any of my students. What is puzzling to me as a teacher is this: when I see these things, I do not feel that it's in anyone's best interest for me to pick up the pace, or otherwise add intensity. At the most basic level, my top priority is to keep my students safe from injury, so they have the opportunity to practice again tomorrow. Regardless of my plans for any class, I always adjust to the feedback I'm getting as I look and walk around the room. So what are these yogi's who negatively comment about my slow teaching pace searching for?

A former dance instructor was able to relate to my confusion. He said, "you are trying to teach people to dance, and they just want patterns." Meaning, the point at which a dance move or a yoga posture can be executed correctly (physically) is not the END of the learning process; rather, it's just the beginning. Yet many people who have difficulty executing even the basic physical shape in yoga classes--e.g. those who would be aided greatly by the use of props but refuse to use them--keep wanting more, to "skip ahead" to...I don't know what. Maybe it's just cultural: everything in our lives is so quick these days; slowing down to really feel into our bodies, our minds, our emotions, our souls is the real challenge, and it's too much. We'd rather continuing to distract with speed. (Believe me, I can relate.) However, truly advanced yoga students understand that this is the real intensity of their practice: yoga as a "work-in" (as opposed to a "work-out")*.

Anyway, this is a long way of saying that such paradox is making me think more clearly about what I value as a teacher of yoga (rather than a "yoga teacher"). My initial training in teahing yoga by two of the best yoginis at one of the most reputable yoga schools in the country started me on this journey, and I continue to develop and learn through my own experience what I feel is important to pass along to my students.

Regardless of where I teach, what my title or the official class title is, creating a safe space (through my languaging, my use of the environment, and my pacing) that allows students to explore themselves not just physically, but also mentally and emotionally is of utmost importance to me. That is how I define myself as a teacher of yoga, how I feel most authentic and true. It's how I maintain my integrity, and it's the kind of relationship I always want to cultivate with my students.

Teachers of yoga, have you experienced similar contradictions? Students, tell me your thoughts on "slow" classes.

An endless student of yoga,
Kali


*As stated by Judith Hanson Lasater

10 Tips for Digging Out of the Winter Blahs

Punxsutawney Phil may have predicted an early spring this year, but if you're anything like me, the end of February and slog through the long month of March ahead can feel daunting. Whether you're daydreaming of a vacation break in Maui or toying with ideas for how you might incorporate your snow shovel into your morning sadhana, here are a few less radical things you might try to pull you through and set you up for that promised next season:

1. Keep up your neti / nasya routine. There are still some nasty cold/flu bugs floating around out there! Plus, your sinuses will be all nice and shiny and clear, giving you a jump on springtime allergies.
2. Use every long, cold day on the calendar as a new opportunity to practice mindfulness. (Yeah, I know.)
3. Start or renew a meditation practice. Especially with March coming up, you have 30 days (plus a bonus one!) to get into the habit. Meditation, or any habit for that matter!
4. Make an appointment to try a new alternative therapy, such as Reiki. Open your mind and your heart to what it might do for you. Consider it an experiment, self-care, whatever. A pedicure for the soul!
5. Research and consider some cleanses for the change in season. One I particularly like is from If the Buddha Came to Dinner. No starving, good food and easy to do. Forget about that New Year's Resolution? No big deal. Begin again.
6. Take up a simple mindful eating practice, like the one I learned at Kripalu: focus only on three things: chew every bite completely; put the utensil down between each bite; breathe. Start with the first one, and add the other two as you are able.
7. Mix up your own yoga practice. Teaching too much and neglecting your own? Get yourself to a class for YOU. Doing the same old routine? Incorporate a new posture each time, or pick one to really hone in on. Could it be the month of the crow? The handstand? The child? You decide.
8. Valentine's Day has passed, but why not reach out and find a way to cultivate one relationship you've been neglecting? Appreciate a friend by sitting down and really listening to them, do a small favor for a stranger, learn what love is for yourself. Or surprise your significant other with the game of Seductive Couplets!
9. Purge something. A friend of mine recently took a few days for a stay-cation, and took the opportunity to reorganize her kitchen for a more efficient workflow. It had been something that was driving her crazy, but she never had time to fix it. She started this project but stopped whenever it stopped "being fun", then picked up when she got a new idea of how to solve a problem (and it was fun again). And voila! Now it's one less thing for her to think about every day.
10. Explore a new or lost creative activity. When's the last time you colored? Wrote a Haiku? Danced to a fun song when no one was watching? Find a playful, joyful expression of you and go for it!

Clearing out the old; making space for the new

It was completely a coincidence last week that I had designed my yoga class around emotional wellness and healing. Between the events that occurred at Sandy Hook Elementary School, the upcoming "end of the world," and the general stress of the holidays, you can say it went over well. One of my Tuesday students left saying she could "use about 5 more hours of that," and Saturday's class also was well received.

With emotions still running high in my life and in the world, I remembered two things from my yoga teacher training (YTT) earlier this year:

• you always teach the class you need
• shaking releases deep seated emotional energies

I also recalled that in one of our sessions we did the Osho Kundalini Meditation^TM -- it was a really unique and powerful experience, so I went to the web site and refreshed myself on it. I thought it might be the perfect last class for the year -- different, cleansing, fun. (Basically, you spend the first half releasing energy through fast movement--shaking and dancing; then you revel in stillness in sitting meditation and shavasana.) I downloaded the music the led my last Saturday class through it. While I'm am a far cry from the fabulous Jurian Hughes who guided my experience, I managed to keep the class moving throughout the time allotted for each stage. We weren't quite as noisy as my YTT but we were fewer people; plus it can be difficult to completely release all inhibitions, even within one's yoga community!

I'd highly recommend that anyone who wants to clear out the old and make space for the new try this meditation. And stay tuned, I may just lead it again next year. :-)

Happy holidays, everyone!

Reflections on Teaching

As I've started teaching yoga more, I'm realizing what a true gift teachers are. In the definition of "teacher" I include people both in an official teaching capacity, as well as others who, for whatever reason (and whether we like it or not!), come into and leave our lives to teach us something we wouldn't have otherwise discovered about ourselves.

Teachers: in the official capacity
I got my first taste of teaching several years ago when I substituted as a dance instructor for a friend who was recovering from surgery. Trying to verbally communicate how I moved my body (even with demonstrations) was a difficult task. I'd been dancing for so long at that point that it was hard to articulate the minute details of what I was doing so those who didn't have that experience could understand. I also quickly learned that students interpret what they see and hear from teachers in different ways, and through their own filters on the world--which may not always be what the teacher intended. And even more interesting was how students picked up on things I did even when I didn't speak to them. (I vividly remember seeing one student bending her knee in a certain way that I always did, which I never spoke of because it was simply a bad habit. And oops, now there is someone copying my bad habit!) It took one class into the six week session for me to appreciate my teachers for their dedication to spreading the dance, and to gain a first-hand understanding of why they'd sometimes seem frustrated.

Teaching yoga is similar, and potentially even more challenging than teaching dance. It's similar in that the teacher has to verbalize what they're doing with their body, but in dance, it's completely left up to the student to find the flow of the dance, to feel the freedom and joy in the experience. I don't think any class or instructor can teach that--it has to be found by the student on their own, in their own time. But in teaching yoga (and maybe this is just my perspective as a new one) the teacher's role is not just about articulating the body positions so no one gets hurt (though that's important). It's also to use verbal and body language to create a safe emotional / mental space that assists students in finding the spaces and openings within themselves, setting the stage for self-inquiry and the spiritual side of yoga that isn't immediately obvious when performing the postures. I also know this cannot be taught. The best a yoga teacher can do is create the conditions for it to be learned, when the student is ready.

Which segues nicely into my second category of teachers: the people who come into and out of our lives to help us learn a lesson.

Teachers: as mirrors into our souls
These teachers can be (and often are) even more powerful transformers than those in an official role. Maybe that's because they almost sneak up on us, challenging us by making us think or feel things we've chosen to avoid. These teachers might help us grow by constantly pushing our buttons, by loving us in ways we never thought we could be loved, by supporting (or not supporting) us when we really need it, by being close to us and then moving on. Quite often, these life teachers are really mirrors into our souls. They show us reflections of ourselves, often without any softening or distortion. And this can be hard to take.

Have you ever had the experience of not liking someone, for no apparent reason? I have. A few months ago I met someone I had a visceral reaction to, without knowing anything about them. Sure, I could point to a few surface-level things the person did that could justify some negative feeling (maybe), but none that could explain what I felt, which bordered on hatred. (How un-yogic of me, right?) Fortunately, I kept running into this person and we got to talking here and there--me feigning interest in what they had to say--at first. It took only a few deeper conversations for me to realize how similar our pasts were, and then something clicked in me: I hated this person without knowing them because I instinctually picked up on the things I saw in them that I hated in myself. Talk about enlightening! And now because of this experience, I know that whenever I have strong feelings about someone (whether that's hatred or love), that person has come into my life to teach me something significant, and may be mirroring me as well.

The teacher appears when the student is ready?
Maybe. It's taken me 15 years to recognize the spiritual aspects of yoga. (Even though throughout my life, I've had teachers who offered the space for me to discover it. I denied it when anyone told me I was "spiritual" because heck, after 12 years of Catholic school I was anything but religious!). When I look back on notes from dance privates 5+ years ago, I see the same advice I'd get if I took one today. And it's only in the past few months that I've finally figured out what "dancing down into the floor" means--which I've gotten through the "grounding" concepts of yoga and Ayurveda. It's taken me 13 years to recognize that I can always trust my intuition, because it is always right (even when the ultimate outcome isn't what I expected), and even longer than that for me to recognize what's important in life and love.

So yes, I think teachers always appear, but regardless of whether the student is actually ready. They'll keep appearing too--as both official teachers and soul mirrors--over and over until we students are in a place where we can really entertain the lesson they're here to teach us. And once we learn a lesson, they'll be new lessons to learn. Life is learning, and learning is life.

Yogi at a Dance Convention

After not having set foot on a West Coast Swing dance floor for about 3 months, this past weekend I attended Boston Dance Challenge. I started doing this dance 10 years ago because I had a lot of spare time after getting my Master's degree, and I loved how it made me feel physically and emotionally. Many studies have shown that dancing is good for your health, but I can also attribute dancing to making me more social and outgoing; like yoga, I believe it has played a large part in changing the deepest "me".

Part of the reason I haven't been dancing lately has been because I had felt like it was always a choice to go dance or pursue my yogic practices. There seemed to be too many things at odds with one another in each of these passions. For Ayurveda and yoga, I get up early, I eat light and clean, I practice mindfulness and compassion. For dancing, I stay up until Ayurveda would have me wake, food and alcoholic drinks are a prevalent and constant temptation, not to mention all the competition, ego, judgement, and cliques that are the norm. 

But since yoga is really about a way of living in the world (99% of which happens off the mat), I decided to use this weekend as a test: could I be a yogi while participating in the hobby I used to enjoy so much? Here's some highlights of how it went.

Friday Evening

• 8:30 pm: I arrive at the hotel, pleased as punch that I have two, like-minded and considerate roommates with whom to share the weekend. Space in the room is respectfully shared from the moment I arrive. I feel content, and set an intention to have fun this weekend.
• 9:30 pm: While watching the first competition, I catch myself judging other dancers, trying to select who's in first, second, or third place, and making comments to nearby friends / observers about outfits and dancing (good and not so good). I vow to just sit and enjoy watching others express themselves while doing something that gives them pleasure. 
• 10 pm: I remember how to spot while social dancing (there's no spinning in yoga!). My former dance partner (a vegan neuro-muscular massage therapist who's tickled at my yogic transformation) asks me, "are you the same person?" I smile confidently as I reply, "No, I'm not." Friends encourage me to compete tomorrow, and I know I need to make a decision by the morning.
• 11 pm: Having gotten up at 5am, I feel jet-lagged. I decide I've had a long day, and turn in. (Something unheard of at a dance event.)

Saturday

• 6:15 am: After initially waking at 4 am, I'm fine with this. I get up and do some yoga, meditate, and decide to compete.
• 9 am: I start to second guess my decision to compete, thinking it won't be worth the hit to my self esteem. I observe this indecisiveness as a pattern as of late, realize it's not good for me, and choose to just own the decision I made instead of doubting it. I feel better.
• 12 pm: I am proud of myself for maintaining phase 3 of my Buddha cleanse, eating the lunch I brought with me.
• 1 pm: I have the pleasure of attending a workshop with Arjay Centeno & Jennifer DeLuca, who surprise and inspire me by talking all about how important the breath is while dancing because it calms the body and enables communication with your partner. They have us breathe deeply in, pause slightly at the top, and exhale through our movements. I'm so excited and grateful I almost can't contain myself. 
• 3:15 pm: I spend the next several hours trying to find my full yogic breath while social dancing in between comps. Initially it's distracting, and I can't do that and keep my steps. But after a short time, I start to find it to be seriously grounding. Just what I need. I do feel as though my breath can breathe life into my dance!
• 4:30 pm: My roommate and I rush to get ready for comps. We'd been chatting about this amazing rhythmic yoga flow and completely lost track of time. I have 3 really fun dances, where I breathe and feel comfortable in my body while on the competition floor. (Competing without freaking out has been an issue for me for as long as I've been doing these events.)
• 5 pm: Some friends get called back for Novice semis. I quickly run to the restroom so I can be back in time to watch them dance. When I emerge from the stall, I see a wall of urinals and a close friend says, "Jen, you in the right place?" I panic and run out, amazed at how un-mindful I'd been. I continue this pattern by nearly sitting on a guy's lap when I get back into the ballroom because he'd taken my chair. My friends think all this is hysterical. 
• 6:15 pm: A pro tells me and  a friend / fellow competitor that we looked good on the floor. I start to have hopes of making finals.
• 7 pm: I realize once 5 of us arrive at the Green Land Cafe for dinner that I've screwed up the reservation and we don't have one. My friends are so kind (reminding me also of my earlier restroom mishap) and the restaurant is accommodating. I breathe with the discomfort of not being perfect, and try to accept that that's really OK.  My friends love me anyway.
• 8 pm: I find out I'm only one of three other girls cut completely from the finals list. Part of me says, "of course, you haven't danced in 3 months, what do you expect?" Another part is sad and disappointed. Yet another is thrilled for my roommate, who did make the cut. Behind it all, my true Self is amazed I'm actually remembering my yoga training and starting to allow myself to feel each layer of my emotions.
• 9 pm: I'm really tired. One of my roommates talks me out of breaking my Buddha cleanse with a coffee. I decide to do Viparita Karani instead, but never end up actually doing it.
• 9:30 - 11 pm: I do battle with my "itty bitty shitty committee". My roommate tells me to dance with this advanced guy--I do, and while it was fine, I still feel like it was a "pity dance". When she wants to teach yoga with me at dance events, I wonder why. I want to eat something I shouldn't. I doubt my ability to be a good dancer, a good yoga teacher, to maintain a healthy body. I see a woman who I've had issues with in the past and this riles me up. I reluctantly dance with the beginner who keeps asking me, and wonder why on earth he's so persistent. Then suddenly I remember my intention for the weekend: FUN!
• 11 pm: I'm exhausted again, but vow not to cave in and go to bed. Who knows when I'll be out dancing again, and darn it, I'm going to have fun!
• 11:30 pm: I complain to a friend about the dude who's selling dance shoes, because he's been saying wacky things to me about buying something every time I pass his tables. Soon after I feel like maybe I could be more light-hearted about it.  
• 12:30 am: I have good dances with old friends and new partners. I get a second wind. I focus on having a good time. I marvel at how applicable my Kripalu yoga training is: emotions really are just waves one has to ride; the amount of time between them just varies, as does their magnitude.
• 2:30 am: I kindly explain to the beginner who has been asking me to dance repeatedly that I'm really flattered but there are a lot of people I haven't seen in awhile who I'd like to dance with. He takes it well, and I don't feel like I've been a dance snob.
• 3:30 am: I'm tickled when a pro I like starts running around the social floor with a child-like grin on his face, cutting in on random couples and stealing followers for a few passes. They must be tickled too!
• 4 am: I haven't been on the floor in about 45 minutes, and so I decide to call it a night. A respectable time for a dance event. I feel proud of myself.

Sunday

• 9 am: I wake after having had less than 5 hours of sleep, which I know is less than what my body needs. I see one of my roommates on her yoga mat, and get down on the floor myself. I hear her Ujjayi breathing and start my own short flow, listening to what my body needs me to pay attention to after all that dancing. I smile when I glance up and see we are in similar postures I feel very connected to her.
• 10 am: Rather than getting anxious about having to leave the hotel room by the 11 am checkout time, the three of us work together perfectly to all get showers and pack up in time. I'm feeling even more grateful that these lovely people are in my life.
• 11 am: After taking half my suitcase outside, I'm too enamored by the beautiful sunny day to spend it sitting or dancing in the ballroom. After checking with my roommate that she'd be OK with me missing her dance this afternoon, I say some other goodbyes. One couple tells me I should have taught a morning yoga class, and that they were not willing to go to the gym but would have done yoga; I agree and hope to offer something next year.
• 3:30 pm: I write this blog, and feel like yes, I could do another dance event, AND balance it with keeping true to my yoga practices. In fact, as with anything else in life, YOGA JUST HELPS.
• 7 pm: I find out my roommate placed 5th, and a dear friend came in 1st place. I text them both back with a big smile on my face, sending them my love as part of celebrating their success.