Re-alignment

Tags

antsy, cranky, fake it til you make it, life purpose, real yoga teachers, Stress, Teaching yoga brings me happiness, yoga teaching

Confession: since coming back from Bali I’ve been outrageously cranky. Out of sorts. Not terribly pleased.

It’s been suggested by one of my lovely friends that my holiday was simply too short, although I didn’t feel that way at the time. I really, really enjoyed my wee break to Bali.

Perhaps, I thought, it was because I’d had a taste of what I want for my future life. Yoga, yoga and more yoga in a beautiful tropical part of the world. I could see myself living there, teaching yoga.

Or, maybe it was a cultural thing? In Bali people are mindful, even if they’re harassing you to buy something or hire them as a taxi. Everything is done with a sense of politeness and respect.

Back in Melbourne, not so much. Road rage, people who bash into you with their bag or their person, and a general numbness and lack of care shown by the general population towards each other. Perhaps it was that, I thought.

Then there’s looking inwards. Any rage or unhappiness I feel is of course, emanating from within. No one causes my reactions except for me. I own it all, baby. But why now? What arked up all of this personal dissent?

It hasn’t helped that my home has been infested with tradies working on the two apartments above mine. Like cockroaches, they’re hard to get rid of. My request to not start work so very, very early in the morning (by law they can start at 7am!) with their banging and hammering and drilling… were pretty much ignored.

More – they’ve taken to openly taunting me and harassing me. Several large burly men outside where I sleep and live in the early morning. The police have been called but are useless unless something “actually happens”.

I’ve recently expressed to the body corporate, the landlord and the real estate agent that I will move out unless something can be done to manage these horribly aggressive men. We’re working on it…

This has been going on for a couple of months now, and unfortunately it’s not so great for my stress levels. And stress isn’t great for my health.

So, perhaps it was this, too. Probably. Maybe it’s an “all of the above” situation, perhaps?

Then last night happened.

The yoga school I teach at re-opened this week and I was back on for my regular Tuesday night teaching gig. Hooray!

For January we’re on a reduced timetable, so where there would usually be two classes running on  Tuesdays, for the next few weeks there’s just my class.

Usually I teach in the smaller room at the back, which holds twelve students at the most. Last night for the first time, I taught around thirty people in the main room. Some of whom usually do the intermediate class.

Whoah. The pressure. Haha.

At least I thought it’d be a little scary but I simply taught what I know, the way I usually teach. Of course I had to project my voice and look around a heck of a lot more. But it was cool.

The dynamics of large classes are different – less time to deal with people’s individual issues, not as much explanation time and wow, but the class flew!

For sure it was less intimate and although I think I prefer teaching smaller groups, it was lots of fun.

Afterwards I felt just really, really happy. Teaching yoga brings me happiness. Then I realised that the last class I taught was exactly four weeks ago. Wow. That long?

So. That’s what I’d been missing, huh?

Come February, I’ll have been teaching yoga on a weekly basis for twelve months. Before that I taught more sporadically. So teaching has become a part of my routine and my favourite part of the week. But I don’t think it’s just the routine I was missing.

It’s this: even though I know I’ve got a long way to go in my yoga teaching career, and a WHOLE BUNCH to learn… it feels like I’m doing something right.

So often in the last year I’ve questioned my teaching: I’m not a perfect yogi; I haven’t mastered every pose; my body isn’t the right shape or size; there’s heaps of poses I can’t do yet; my knowledge of A&P isn’t as deep as I’d like… so why am I teaching again?

Surely I should just leave it up to the REAL yoga teachers?

Another confession: at Nadine’s yoga teacher Christmas party in December, I very much felt like an imposter. There I was surrounded by all of these REAL teachers, hoping no one would figure out that I’m just faking it til I make it. I don’t have the same level of knowledge or experience as everyone else. WHAT AM I DOING HERE?!!

Only it seems that this teaching thing is a part of my purpose in this life. I felt it last night as I walked to the yoga school, as I began the class and all the way through. And especially afterwards. I humbly accepted compliments on the class and headed home feeling ecstatic.

And lo, all of the antsy cobwebs and crankiness of the last few weeks have vanished like magic.

Almost as if this time out and then coming back was a reminder that yeah, I AM doing the right thing. I AM in the right place, as a yoga teacher who will forever be also be a student who never feels like she’s learned everything she needs to know.

I’m not perfect, and perhaps I’m not a real yoga teacher yet. But I’m on the way, baby.

~ Svasti

How to not confuse a tablespoon with the whole enchilada

Tags

acidophilus, antibiotics, bonfire convention, cranky, ear infection, enchilada, loopy, pitta, queue jumpers, searing hot poker, Snow White, tablespoon, whole enchilada

Okay so every time I think I’m ready to write specific posts, others just come right along and elbow their way in. Freakin’ queue jumpers! Then, occasionally others morph into somewhat different posts, while keeping their original intent. Sort of.

You’ll have to excuse me right now as my pitta zings off the charts and once again I find myself lumped with an ear infection. Not a terrifically soggy and gooey one like the famed Double Whammy Right And Left Side Ear Infections of 2008 but nonetheless. Painful in it’s own glorious way – like a searing hot poker shoved deep inside my ear cavity, as if there’s a wee bonfire convention going on in there. Not to mention the ridiculous lack of energy (sleep? Right now I could sleep for Snow White!) accompanying this bout of joy.

So yeah, Imma little cranky and somewhat loopy. But nevermind, I wanna write something I’ve been meaning to for a while now. This post is both a queue jumper and a long-sufferingly patient work in progress that’s morphed into something else. Sort of.

And it’s about tablespoons and enchiladas.

I mean, we both know they’re quite different, right? A tablespoon holds… a tablespoon’s worth of stuff. An enchilada, as we know, especially if it’s the whole enchilada… holds a great deal more. Right?

What I’m suggesting is that it’s incredibly easy to confuse a tablespoon with an entire enchilada and not even realise that you’re doing it. Because we all do it, even if we don’t mean to. It’s just kinda how things go, until we learn to recognise the qualities of tablespoons and enchiladas.

Generally, it doesn’t matter. Unless it does. Until someone thinks they’re really talking about the whole enchilada when really, they’ve only ever seen the tablespoon. Know what I mean?

No? Okay… well an oft-quoted yoga blogger I know wrote something about it:

Assuming that you know me from reading my blog is a bit like assuming you know Jaimal Yogis or Elizabeth Gilbert because you have read their books, in which they reveal aspects of their internal lives.

Also, another yogi blogger’s recent post is a perfect illustration of how actually, you’re looking at the tablespoon. And even if you get to look at the tablespoon from another angle, it’s still a tablespoon.

So, what’s the tablespoon if it’s not the whole enchilada? Why, it’s an implement to access the goodies contained in said enchilada. Thing is, you can only ever fit so much enchilada onto your spoon at the one time, eh?

Even if the stuff that’s ladled on to the tablespoon is like, super juicy and intense, it’s still only a tablespoonful.

Have I used up all the mileage on this analogy yet?

Whatever. Not so recently but then again not too long ago, someone really thought they were getting the whole enchilada but they were sadly mistaken. What’s worse is that they never, ever took pause to realise they were reacting to the tablespoon and not the enchilada. They didn’t once question themselves, what they thought they were getting or seeing. Which is kinda sad, and a sure-fire way to make sure you’ll never ever get a proper glimpse of said enchilada…

And what I really want to confess to y’all is this:

Right here on my blog you get regular tablespoonfuls of enchilada. But at no time, not ever, do you get the whole thing. Not here. I’d suggest that even IRL (in real life), those enchiladas we think we’re getting 100% of might still be just tablespoon-sized helpings, if perhaps more of them and more often. But still, not 100%.

Really, who ever truly gets to understand their own enchilada entirely, let alone another person’s?

Even though I love to share and perhaps have a bit of a deep-seated need to describe the enchilada in painful details… it’s still never the whole thing. You know?

So, people. Be cool. Recognise that at any time, you’re never being served up the whole enchilada. It should make life easier for you and everyone else you deal with, yeah?

And now it’s time to rest, write up a class plan for tomorrow night (oh yeah, I’ve got a mini teaching gig until the end of November. Also, possibly more teaching lined up for next year!), and uhhh, take both my antibiotics and acidophilus tablets.

Hope everyone is having a better Monday than me!

~Svasti

P.S. It should be noted that I’m a huge fan of enchiladas, and in fact really, really enjoy them with chicken and mole sauce from certain fabulous Mexican restaurants in Melbourne. And, even when I eat whole enchiladas, I get that in fact, it’s never really the whole enchilada. Or something like that! 😉