I like people, I love people. But on certain days, I don’t want to see people, and
I don’t want to teach Yoga today.
I wouldn’t say I’m a complete introvert.
But on certain days,
(the day before my period day, the anniversary of the last time I saw you day, valentines day this year, valentines day last year, my late great grandmothers birthday day, the day my turtle ran away day, water retention when it’s not even my period day, the day the chain falls off my bike twice day, the day I fall off my bike twice day, the day my bike is stolen day, the day my bike is stolen twice day, the day a strange man on a bicycle picks up my purple vibrator day, valentines day, valentines day, valentines day),
I want to be under something soft.
I want to observe and I want only to listen.
I love you, I do,
But on certain days
I don’t want to touch you,
I don’t want to talk to you,
I don’t even really want to see you and
I certainly don’t want to teach you Yoga.
When I started teaching, this freedom to hide, to crawl under, slide behind, to take the back door, side door anythingbutthefrontdoor in and out all changed.
On days I want to hide, I have to show up. I have to squeeze into something relatively small and tight. I have to step into a room with an entire wall of mirrors and turn the temperature up high so that what is small and tight becomes smaller and tighter.
I have to arrive not fashionably late but 30 minutes early. The first to arrive at the party I don’t even want to be at. I have to arrive early not as an anonymous guest or a friend of a friend but a generous host.
See my job is to make sure everything is ready. The room is ready, the lights are ready, the temperature is ready , the props are ready and then I have to stand by the entranceway and find a way to smile and greet all those people I might not want to see today because I am a yoga teacher and
Yoga is about connecting.
And when I see the brunette with the high pony who walked out on me in the middle of savasana last Sunday, I will greet her just the same as the rest. I will greet her and I will stand tall and breathe when I do it because if I’m going to lead a group of students through a series of backbends I better learn to stand tall and offer you a hair elastic even though you made me cry because I am a yoga teacher and
Yoga is about connecting even in the unpleasant moments.
And when I walk into a room with an entire wall of mirrors I will look into my own eyes when I talk about drishti. I will look into my own eyes even when I ate chocolate cake for breakfast and skipped meditation to look up all my ex-boyfriends and all my ex-boyfriends girlfriends on facebook because I am a yoga teacher and
Yoga is an honest practice.
And when you lift your foot higher than it needs to be in tree, I will find my vrksanana. I will keep my left toes on the earth and my hip-bones square to the mirror and I will connect to what is beneath me even though everything feels like water because I am a yoga teacher and
Yoga is finding the courage to lead, even when you want to follow.
And when I see your hips lifted in Childs Pose, I will offer you an adjustment. I will place my palms on your low back on an inhale and I will press down on an exhale. I will synch my breath with yours your breath with mine and I will be taken out of my own sillycycleoftoomanythoughts for a minute because I am a yoga teacher and
Yoga is about something bigger than the physical body.
And when we finish Kapalabhati I will invite you to seal your practice. And when you seal your practice I will seal mine by thanking the earth for every one of you. And I will send you love and I will send a little more to you, brunette with the high pony because I am a yoga teacher and
Yoga is about letting go.
And when I walk out the door and leave you in Savasana I will resist the urge to check my phone within the first 30 seconds. And when I’m cold and I wrap myself in a blue towel, I will resist the urge to put the towel over my my whole head. I will resist the urge to run after sharing something vulnerable. I will instead drape the towel over my shoulders and I will wear it more like a blue cape and I will invite you to sit and have tea with a superhero because I am a yoga teacher and
Yoga is a courageous practice.
And when you sit with me and tell me that class was special I will resist the urge to deflect the comment by complimenting you on your very exciting pink tank-top. I will meet your gaze and because my pores are wide open I will allow the gratitude to enter every cell of my body because as much as yoga is about giving,
Yoga is about learning to receive.
And after I hear you I will stand there in a blue-towel cape a little bit proud. Because after 60 minutes of teaching I will see each student and notice the difference in them from when they first came in.
I will see them and I will become less aware of what is small and tight and stuck to me and more of aware of what is big and round and bigger than me and I will be reminded that
This practice isn’t about me.
As as soon as I’m reminded of this, I want to disappear
A little less.