Student-Teacher

I taught my first yoga class in over a year (see the sheer joy manifested as me in this picture)!

 I think I mentioned on here how I took a year off from teaching with the primary intention of being able to have a daily practice. It has been marvelous reveling in the joys of learning, being a student, practicing often, and exploring new aspects of this practice.

And when I asked for some teaching this summer, I started to get really nervous about teaching again...would I remember the series, would I remember how to speak in front of other people, would be totally awkward? These little fears (shall we call them fearlets?) were sounding freakier in my echoey head then they were in the bright sun of the day, because the class was great! 5pm, level 2, at the Danforth. Lots of regulars that I know before, lots of great moments, tons of smiling, and a really nice welcome back to the practice of sharing a practice.

The whole experience has me convinced of how important being a student is. Last night, I actually felt like I had REAL things to share with the class: ideas, sequences, insights, jokes...all that have been absorbed from the year of just focusing on my own practice. If I were nominated the yoga-police, I would make it mandatory for all teachers to have a daily practice. You just can't consistently give to your students without refueling yourself through asana.

I remember in school this past year (teachers college) writing a paper on inspiring students to develop lifelong literacy. One major theme through the reading I did to write the paper was the idea that we can't expect students to fall in love with reading if teachers themselves are not reading (or love reading). How can we expect our yoga students to develop an appreciation, a love, a commitment for a regular practice if their teachers don't have one?

Perhaps we need to change the name of teachers to be something of a hybrid of a teacher and a student (teachdent, studeacher, stutedenacher...none of these really sound that brilliant). There is something in a name and when we put ourselves in one category ("I am a TEACHER") it's easy to negate the other things that we also are (flawed, learning, discovering our own way, a student). I am a student and I am a teacher. I am learning and I am sharing. I have things that I know and skyscrapers could be filled with the things I don't know...

Who are you?

On Eating Animals (a book by Johnathan Safran Foer)

You know those books that you hear your Mom talking about, then that guy in the grocery store, then your boss, then your teacher...and you're like enough already, I get the hint, I should read this book! That's kind of what this book was like for me.

So a big disclosure to begin with: I'm a vegetarian, I have been since I was 16 when it sounded like the thing to do, the thing to help make me a little more unique during a time in my life when being unique was pretty much all there was to life. And I think that eventually I just got used to wearing the "I am a vegetarian" badge through high school and later into my university days that it made sense to just continue doing what I've just done for so long...and besides it just fit the rest of this "person" I was constructing: I had dreadlocks, I played ani songs on guitar, I was sensitive, and quirky and this was just part of me.

And while I have since flirted with both being a vegan and the occasional fish eater (I wondered if eating fish and eggs for protein was "better" for me than eating all that synthetic weird fake meat food and protein powder stuff I was eating), reading the book "Eating Animals" has helped to give me a bit of a leg to stand on in regards to understanding why avoiding meat (and animal products, as the author doesn't explicitly say that veganism is the way to go, he does suggest it subtly) is a good life choice.

"I assumed we'd maintain a diet of conscientious inconsistency. Why should eating be different from any of the other ethical realms of our lives? We were honest people who occasionally told lies, careful friends who sometimes acted clumsily. We were vegetarians who from time to time ate meat" (p. 9).

And that's just one of the things I've been left to wonder about: I don't consider myself to be a woman with loose morals, but I do honestly believe that I could stand to gain a little more integrity in my life...and yes, my diet is included in that. How do my food choices affect the way that I interact and behave in the world? I think that after reading this book, I can't honestly believe that what I put into my body has no repercussions other than the odd tummy ache, bloating, and mucus formations.

I wouldn't suggest this book to people who hate feeling uncomfortable. I wouldn't suggest this book to people who hate feeling challenged. I would never suggest this book to someone who was not open to the possibility of changing their habits and things they have just always done. I do think that this is a book that people concerned with waking up should read, as it does feel like once you know, there is no more pretending like you don't know.

Johnathan Safran Foer asks: "What did you do when you learned the truth about eating animals?" which just might beg us to put the notion of eating animals up against the atrocities of slavery, the holocaust, the horrors of the tobacco industry or forced child labour, which I know to some people seems like a ridiculous comparison, but they may just be as horribly appropriate as we fear.

Frank Jude, one of the best teachers I know, begs his students to ask themselves "what is at the centre of your mandala?" and after thinking a little about what was at mine (teaching, art, love, poetry, leslie, family, cuddling) Frank answered "Awakening is at the centre of mine" (which made everything I was thinking of seem incredibly lame). If waking up is at the centre of your mandala, please read this book...please read this book and then pass it on to as many other people you know - it just might be what helps us get out of this mess we've created.

On "Failure"

I had a splendid phone date with my platonic life partner who lives in Vancouver last night - and obviously we chatted most of the time about yoga.

For a bit of context, this is the woman who first introduced me to Moksha AND Ashtanga (what else are you going to introduce me to, lady?) and that has been with me for a lot of fun (and not so fun) life moments. We were talking about the idea of a daily practice and the guilt that can come along for the ride when we miss a day or two (or three or four) of practicing.

Clearly, we are both logical and intelligent enough women that we know that everyone is not going to laugh at us - but this idea of "failure" because we don't practice was definitely present in our experience

And I notice this with new teachers too during the 30 day challenge project as well. Often a day or two gets missed - that's life...but in a surprisingly large number of people's journals is written "I didn't practice today. I fail" - I mean, we wouldn't allow a young child to use this kind of self-deprecating language, so why is it any better for adults to?

Frank Jude, one of my favourite teachers and people in world reminded me of this when I would talk to him about meditation. He said something like: when you are practicing, be fully present in practicing. When you are not present, be fully present in the non-practicing. It's normal to feel guilt for not practicing, but guilt is kind of useless on its own unless it inspires you to change.

I like this and I share it with my students...and myself every time I miss a practice.

For the record though, I did practice today and did my best to be present in the practicing of the practice.

On Teaching

I took a year off from teaching yoga.

I was in school full-time (recently finished and love the sweet taste of freedom) and knew that it was either my personal practice or teaching that had to go...and personal practice won out. But in the time between actually teaching and now, I've been doing quite a bit of thinking in regards to what makes a good yoga teacher.










And while I can't help but watch this video over and over and laugh my face off, it really highlights for me how easy it is to be a terrifyingly awful yoga teacher. Maybe it is because it is too easy these days to become a teacher of yoga, maybe it is because there are just so many students hungry for yoga that they will take to anyone willing to share some poses with them, or maybe we just don't know what a good teacher is and because of that lack of modeling, have no idea how to blossom into something incredible ourselves.

In my job I get to read projects from new yoga teachers and am able to have some great conversations about what it means to become a yoga teacher (quite possibly the best job in the world). I read quite often the comment (or a variation of the comment): "I was resisting getting adjusted because I am a yoga teacher and I should be doing it right", which always makes me wonder...

What is it about being teacher implies that we are no longer a student?

What is it about being a teacher that suggests we actually know what we are doing?

What is it about being a teacher that feeds our own egos in this practice?

One of my favourite people, who runs a yoga studio in Uptown Toronto, commented on the number of students new to Ashtanga who call in to the studio saying "I'm really advanced and am worried that this practice is too easy...should I still come?" - something about this makes me wonder: do truly advanced students / teachers think of themselves as advanced? Who was it that said it is the wise man that knows he's the fool and the fool who thinks he's a wise man...

Maybe I'll never go back to teaching and maybe I will - but I know that I am always a student first and am a complete and utter fool about most things.