Fishing in the universe’s ocean

Tags

bountiful, diamond, disenfranchised, gleaming golden thread, gone fishing, Home, intangible embrace, kiss of life, learning curve, magic, peace out, sparkle, teaching, the universe’s ocean, Yoga, yoga teacher training

Sometimes before teaching a yoga class, I ask myself how it is I think I’m going to do it: teach the class, that is. Just who do I think I am, anyway?

Then it’s time to begin and I find myself speaking words that I didn’t even know were there to be said. Sure, I have a rough class plan, but how that plays out is always a bit of a mystery. And the words I use to direct the class seem to come out of nowhere, too.

Sometimes I find that I design classes based on the weather, the time of day, or the students who show up. Or even the ones that came to a previous and unrelated class. Yes… just thinking about people’s reactions/feedback to my classes is enough, because often people have similar enough experiences to make certain things (no matter how specific) quite valid for more than just an individual.

There’s magic in teaching yoga: a somewhat intangible embrace. A yoga teacher is not just speaking the words and demonstrating poses at the front of the room, but is also smack-dab in the middle of the experience of his/her students. It’s something shared. An exchange. This part of teaching can’t be measured or practiced as such, and is rarely discussed in yoga teacher training – instead, it’s all about being there and participating in a yoga class as the yoga teacher.

I know there’s a learning curve, and I’m on it. I can both see and feel it. My words and actions press against it like an invisible bubble every time I teach. A very slight pressure to make sure I’m aware of its elasticity. There’s room to move and grow and learn, it says… and I sigh with relief. Thank goodness!

I don’t have to know everything right now. There’s still plenty for me to share without being the Most Knowledgeable Yoga Teacher in the Known Universe, or even making the Top 500. So much to share! And so I do. Even though I’m not always sure where the sharing comes from.

Which sneaky corners of my body and mind have those wisdom nuggets been hiding in? Or is it something else entirely? Is it a sensibility that extends outside of myself and dipping into another? Something bigger? More?

Perhaps.

Maybe it’s like fishing in the universe’s ocean. So vast and awe-inspiring! I can load up my fishing rod with bait (the upcoming yoga class), cast the line and see what turns up on the end of my hook. It’s a bountiful ocean and whatever comes back to me is good. Maybe it’s only a tiny sliver of information but that can be enough to enrich my students and myself.

It’s all good. Engaging in this work never seems repetitive (although it is of course, to a certain degree) and never loses it’s sparkle. It’s a big wide ocean of incredible power and beauty, and every time I reach in to connect with it I’m surprised by myself.

Who do I think I am? Well actually, it doesn’t really matter what I think of myself. In fact, when I teach I don’t really think of myself at all. Just my students and how I can best find a way to uhhh… share what I know.

If a smile can be transmitted through a person’s eyes, can my knowledge of yoga (always growing and changing) be transmitted through my voice, physical demonstration and occasional adjustments? I think it can. I think it DOES.

Yoga reveals my Self to myself. I learn to banish limited thinking about my body and mind in the face of overwhelming evidence that proves otherwise. I run a gleaming golden thread between my breath, my body and my heart and they all vibrate as one (the way it should be if we weren’t so disenfranchised from our own Selves). My practice changes daily and I see how things are more clearly than if I were just to look in the mirror at my physical reflection.

So when I ask you to move, and when I spend time explaining how and why to do so a certain way, what I’m really trying to share with you is the bounty of my own practice. All the fish I’ve hooked while out in my small little row boat, fishing in that ocean (don’t worry, I always give ’em the kiss of life and throw ’em back in).

And the words that come – they aren’t rehearsed because I’m busily explaining what I see and feel right there, right then.

I want you to love your yoga practice. To find joy in it, even when you can’t do all the asana perfectly (and I mean, who ever does ANYTHING perfectly, right?). I want you to have a good time and I want you to find that place in your heart that is quiet, expansive and glows like a gazillion carrot (conflict-free) diamond. That place is called Home, and you need to get to know it because being able to go there any time you like is one of the best things going.

So yeah. Haven’t been posting much lately, I know. But I’m not gonna apologise because, you see, I went fishing. And a little transformation’s been going on while I was out there, bobbing around peacefully. Watching the stars. Breathing in the moon. And generally, making some renovations in my own Home.

But I’ve been thinking about you all. I have. And sending out lots of love.

Peace out, everyone. Big smoochie kisses, too.

More soon, I promise!

~Svasti xoxo

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Three times the lesson (to make it stick)

Tags

Depression, fox hole, Global Financial Crisis, life lessons, Meditation, PTSD, Service, three times, unemployment, Yoga, yoga teacher training

I’ve temporarily re-entered the world of joblessness and I’ve been waiting for the crash. So much so, that I’ve been hiding out in my fox hole (hat tip, Nadine!) while I wait.

Although I was doing all sorts of yoga and meditation things last Saturday (including, it seems, being all teacher-ish without meaning to – by which I mean people seeking me out to ask me questions – and BOY is that a weird realisation! *more on this in another post*), on Sunday I spent almost the entire day reading in bed. I don’t think it was depression – more, taking advantage of having nothing to do on a VERY wintery and cold day. I didn’t have to be at work the next day so I felt entitled…

Well, sort of. I mean, I think I was possibly just waiting for things to turn ugly, and assumed crash position just in case.

Didn’t do much on Monday except for some yoga, and yesterday did a bit of temp work. There might be more coming next week. Also, had a pre-interview with a recruiter for a job that would be PERFECT for me, as I would be for it. Still… it’s a waiting game with multiple players and no definites. I do feel quite positive however, as though I’ve got a very good shot!

While I’ve had some moments of panic and fear, right now I’m just not in that space. This time around it simply doesn’t feel the same. Or more accurately, I don’t feel the same.

Although I’m without an income and within weeks, will have very little in my bank account (until things turn around!), somehow I’m not immersed in soul-crushing anxiety, panic attacks or the temptation to let my old companion Depression back in. Not just yet anyway.

That’s not to say that the big D hasn’t tried already.

Fortunately for me, I have other people to think about – my yoga students to-be! For whatever reason, I find it easier to be motivated if I’m doing something for others than myself. I know, it’s self-neglect, lack of self-worth etc. Still, it’s kind of helpful for me right now.

Also, I’ve been thinking quite a bit about this whole lack of work thing. In the last three years, I’ve now had three episodes of unemployment.

The first was when I quit my job working for a large corporate – somehow my PTSD and my job had become deeply enmeshed. I’d just begun therapy and I also needed to go to Thailand to continue my yoga studies. But my boss was playing hardball about giving me (unpaid!) leave.

So with the confluence of healing and change in my life, it felt like the right thing to do, and I jumped. Which REALLY upset my parents, despite my being old enough to decide what I’m doing with my life (hello, I’m in my 30’s!). Also, only a few friends outside my yoga community understood my actions. But that decision lit the (very healing) fires of change BIG TIME. It was vitally important.

When I came back from Thailand, the economic situation had changed drastically and it was suddenly not that easy to find a job. It took me two months and in the end, I accepted the first job offered to me (never a wise decision unless you’re sure you want it!).

That job was particularly terrible because of the people who worked there and the lies told about the job during the interview. Also, I’d only been there a month or so when a suppressed memory re-emerged and brought my PTSD symptoms back with a fury. I was already looking for another job in March of last year when the Global Financial Crisis caused my employers to make my role redundant. Ba-boom!

There began four months of desperately looking for another job. Any job. But with the GFC, it was hard to find even the odd bit of temp or freelance work. Luckily, I had a decent enough stash of money – thanks to three years of tax returns filed just a day before I learned I no longer had a job. Until I lost my job, I’d intended to use that money to pay off my debts, but that was not to be! *sigh*

Throughout all of this, I was battling my PTSD (and winning, I might add!), coping with a very nasty case of depression (which I eventually freed myself from) AND doing yoga teacher training. How weird is my life?!

Around mid-last year, I finally got some work , and have had two contract roles since then. But the company I’ve been working for is undergoing a merger, with redundancies to be made and all sorts of confusion. There was no room for thinking about re-engaging contractors right now. Which is really a shame because I enjoyed working there very much, and they liked me too.

So – three episodes of unemployment in three years. What’s with that? Especially in conjunction with all the healing work I’ve been doing and my ever-growing love affair with all things yoga. I’ve a few ideas…

First up – I think its part of the path I’m on, whatever my life is changing into. Years ago I remember writing an email to my Guru. I was desperate to know how I could really be of service to other people, but had no idea what that would look like. And I think all of the hardships, the physical and mental health issues, the lack of money and everything else… well, it allows me to empathise with others in a very real way. And I’ve already begun to experience just how powerful that can be when trying to reach someone…

One of the things I learned the first time I was jobless was that who I am as a person has nothing to do with the sort of job I have, how much money I make, or whether I even have a job. Whether I’m a yoga teacher, an accountant, an artist, a hairdresser, a receptionist or a garbage collector – is completely irrelevant. My job doesn’t make me a better or worse person. It is simply unimportant to the essence of what it is to be a human being, and yet so many people rely on their job for self-identification.

I’ve never been particularly attached to owning physical things, nor have I ever been a very consumer-focused type of person. I don’t own a house, a car, much money, many nice things and I kinda like it like that.

And yet, not having anything at all is SCARY. I haven’t been homeless (yet) but I’ve been very near penniless a couple of times now. And being without money makes it very clear how much power we’ve afforded the dollar in our world. It’s become a tool for building on our ego and delusions, and everything that separates us from who we really are. That said, it doesn’t have to be that way and a damn good way to learn that lesson is to have little or no money. 😉

There are more lessons and realisations than this. Lots more, and I’ll write about them soon. For now, I’ll just say what I wrote in an email to Nadine:

Somehow I have the feeling that everything is going to work out. I have no idea how, but just know that it will. Which makes no sense and I might be eating my words in a couple of weeks, but who knows? I have to stay open and just be with how things are. That was my biggest lesson from the hash I made of being unemployed last year. 🙂

Lots of love to you all out there!

~Svasti xo

Swirling yoga love

Tags

Depression, gratitude, Healesville, houseguests, kirtan, Linda Blair, loving kindness, Mark Whitwell, motorcycles, non-dual Tantra, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD, Retreat, Shadow Yoga, Yoga, yoga teacher training, Zen

Whoosh! See what happens when you put your intentions out there (such as the desire to explore of different yoga styles and teachers) – apparently what happens is that opportunities come and land plum in your lap!

Been feeling a lot of gratitude at the moment. And excitement, nervousness and amazement. We’re already in March and what a rush these months have been! My head is spinning (but not in a Linda Blair kinda way).

In part that’s due to the increased amount of energy I seem to have as I glide ever further from the shores of Depression, out into a world that makes me smile for no good reason with increasing frequency…

Of course, I’m not foolish enough to think I’m “cured” forever. Once depression (and/or other related mental imbalances) have been an unwanted house guest, they tend to hang around and think they have a standing invitation.

So, like others who’ve spent more than enough time with depression, I get it. I know what triggers me and for the most part, I know what helps and heals. And just like my PTSD symptoms, I wait and watch. Will I be haunted by depression again? Possibly… but then maybe not.

For now, I’m feeling pretty darn blessed, really. I have a multitude of teachings from my Guru, and now my yoga teacher training, supplemented by learning Shadow Yoga (it still blows my mind!). I’m getting myself organised to begin teaching classes (YTAA membership, insurance etc). And in the meantime I’ve had two spectacular gifts materialise.

The first of these was Mark Whitwell’s Heart of Yoga weekend workshop in February (Valentine’s Day weekend no less!). Thanks again, to super-woman Nadine for organising everything! I’m yet to write up my experience of Mark’s teachings properly, but it’s a-coming. As are some further notes on my experiences with Shadow Yoga, possibly even in a more coherent form than I’ve managed to date.

Then there’s the kirtan group I’ve been attending for several months now, run by a local yoga teacher/talented singer and musician. The sessions have been awesome, giving me some fantastic insights. And now he’s brought an American Zen Master to Australia – a teacher he respects.

This Zen Master guy sounded really interesting and I wanted to go. But when I looked at my finances (post Mark Whitwell retreat, still paying off my yoga teacher training AND saving for retreat with my Guru in October) I could see it wasn’t going to happen.

So I explained the reasons I couldn’t come very transparently, and in response I was offered a very discounted price. I was also offered a lift there and back (required since I don’t have a car) and if needed, someone to house/cat sit for me.

Every possible reason I could say no was countered with generosity and kindness. And to be honest, I felt just a touch suspicious. Like – why would someone who doesn’t know me very well want to do those things for me?!

Then I snapped out of it and remembered that yeah, y’know there are other people out there who are unfailingly generous by nature. And I had to remind myself that I have no problem with doing something for others without expecting anything in return – I give away money, possessions and just do things for others because I can! But… I still find it hard to accept the odd occasion when people offer me such kindnesses in return. It feels unbalanced somehow (strange logic, I know). But then I figured out a compromise that made me feel better about things – I asked to be #1 helping hand on retreat, doing food preparation or whatever is required to help things run smoothly. My offer to be of service was accepted and so it’s all good.

So yay! This coming long weekend I’ll spend three days in beautiful Healesville (75 minutes out of town) for a yoga and meditation retreat, Zen-style. Which is actually quite closely aligned with non-dual Tantra, just from another perspective.

The weekend after the retreat, I’ll be having interstate houseguests and yessssss, that’ll be the sound of motorcycles parked in my carport! *grins*

And I promise, I will post about my recent wonderful yoga experiences here as soon as I can! 🙂

~Svasti

P.S. Speaking of loving kindness, check out this post on Lily’s Life: Food For Thought. A warning however – might be a good idea to have tissues at the ready while you read it!

On becoming a yoga teacher – part 2

Tags

Asana, Guru, Hatha yoga, initiation, Love, Sanskrit, self-confidence, self-knowledge, Yoga, Yoga teacher, yoga teacher training, yoga-ish insights, Yogini

[Read part 1 first]

It’s really only been in the last five years that I’ve started to understand yoga asana more fully. But until recently, I remained very unsure of myself as a yogini.

I can’t really explain why. I think that unlike RB sticking her hand up, my tendency has always been to shrink into the corner.

Around the time I took initiation into my Guru’s lineage, I decided I wanted to deepen my knowledge and ability with asana. But it still took me a while to do something (anything) about it.

As previously mentioned my therapist H, prompted me on what I’d like my life to look like at a time where I couldn’t see fifty meters in front of me. And surprisingly I found myself telling her I wanted to be a yoga teacher. I’d never told anyone that. Not even myself!

I signed up for the Hatha Yoga Studies Certificate course instead of the Yoga Teacher Training (YTT) even though I wanted to do the latter because I still didn’t feel ready (oh ye of little faith in oneself).

But for once I felt like I was in the right forum to ask those burning questions about asana I had trouble with. After all, I’d paid for the privilege of being in a small dedicated class where it was all about breaking down each pose and working through our challenges. For once I felt okay confiding my imperfections and getting the advice I needed to resolve them.

It was heavenly! Four to five hours of yoga – practicing asana and talking theory = my idea of a good time. Oh yeah baby!

Actually, it was only by doing the course that I realised I was ready for YTT (the two courses are identical until half-way through, so it wasn’t a hassle to switch). Still, I’m not sure I would’ve switched if I hadn’t been encouraged.

I’m deeply grateful for a number of things about my YTT.

First up, it was a 500 hour course. Not that there’s anything wrong with shorter trainings, but I really liked how that extra time allowed us to delve into some of the more esoteric aspects of yoga: the sort of stuff I’ve been studying for years and really enjoy.

Secondly, the course was paced out over almost an entire year. I know of others that are completed much more quickly! Some people even asked me why the course took such a long time to complete?! BUT there’s so much information to take in, and not just trying to memorise the Sanskrit names of asanas, or perfecting your practice (you never will!) or learning a little anatomy and physiology. Becoming a yoga teacher or any kind of teacher really… is a process. And the one important thing a process needs is time – to gestate, steep, mature, transform, explore, grow.

Also, I’m so glad I did my training at a school with heart. The heart very much comes from the woman who runs the school – M. She’s a great example of a yogini who takes her yoga off the mat and into everyday life. Not only did she help out many students who struggled financially last year (including me), but she also has a habit of donating to those in need. Something that is very close to my heart. And it shows in how she treats her students, as well as the quality of people who support her and teach there.

I learned many yoga-ish things (of course) in YTT, but also discovered a bunch of insights along the way, including:

• Flow in your yoga practice comes from confidence and self-knowledge. It’s not just about understanding how to sequence your asana. You’ve got to get a feel for what your body needs. Then, it can almost look like you’re dancing.
• Teaching yoga isn’t just about standing at the front of a class and giving instructions. It’s about making sure your students get what you’re saying. And sharing your love of yoga, your experiences and insights (where appropriate) and offering challenges for students and for yourself, too. In fact, it’s about being a human being, relating to other human beings.
• Without doubt, teaching is a learning experience. A reflection on your ability to be in the moment and put aside your issues with yourself. Because it’s not about you, the teacher, and you can’t be worried about your physical appearance or anything else while you’re teaching.
• That old maxim “those who can’t do, teach” isn’t true at all for yoga (and probably many other disciplines, too). Yoga teachers must practice yoga, must understand what they are asking others to do before they can even think of approaching the front of the room.
• Then, a yoga teacher must continue to practice – it’s not like you finish your YTT and you can suddenly do every asana perfectly! Or that once a pose is perfected, it will stay that way without effort. No way!
• Becoming a yoga teacher does not automatically make someone a perfected yogi or person: there will always be something that’s hard or seemingly impossible. Yoga teachers are simply sharing the teachings in the best way they know how, which is (hopefully) always changing and growing.
• To really teach yoga, one must attempt to remain humble and open at all times. It’s not about being an authority figure!

As well as facing down my depression and PTSD, the training also made me take a look at my self-confidence. Like… when I was first asked to practice-teach a class, I was terrified. Even if I was only working with one other person!

I was afraid of listening to my own voice, to be honest. Of sounding/feeling confident in leading someone through a sequence of poses. And of feeling comfortable enough to look someone in the eye while I instructed them in how to move their body.

It felt so intimate, and that’s because it is. It’s an extremely intimate and sensitive activity and it requires you to forget about yourself. Put aside your issues and whatever negative self-talk you usually spruik. After all, how can students in your care do the same thing for themselves if you’re busy giving yourself a hard time?

Also, putting aside your ‘stuff’ creates space for miracles to occur both for the teacher and the student. Miracles of love, of being able to master physical movements that have previously been out of reach. Allowing that open space to be free of self-doubt creates possibility…

Most of all, I think I’ve learned how to make yoga practical and doable for myself and others. YTT helped bring into focus something my Guru would tell us repeatedly: yoga isn’t about perfect form; it’s about synchronising your body and mind.

I feel that the repetition YTT over the course of an entire year is what sealed it for me. The fire was stoked in the first half of the year, lit when I switched to YTT and finally, turned into a brilliant source of light, warmth and refinement.

And now it’s up to me – what will I do with that flame? What fuel will I use to keep it alight?

That’s where I stand right now: one foot firmly on this brand new path with an open heart and a desire to share…

~Svasti

On becoming a yoga teacher – part 1

Tags

Abhasavada, aerobics, Asana, Bali, Childrens' theatre, Guru, non-dualism, Pantomime, prosthetic pig nose, Tantrik philosophy, Yoga, Yoga Synergy, yoga teacher training

I used to be afraid of it. Asana, that is.

My first knowledge of the existence of yoga was when I was eighteen or nineteen and a member of a children’s theatre troupe. We staged children’s shows (pantomime) in exchange for free lessons in performance, voice, movement, clown work, costuming, front of house management and so on. It was run by a curmudgeonly matron named Joy, which wasn’t too ironic because when she wasn’t being grumpy, she really was rather lovely.

One day in the dressing room as I applied my prosthetic pig nose (I was Mrs. Pig in The Three Little Pigs), I wondered aloud what form of exercise I should be doing. A fellow performer told me that yoga was all she needed for fitness and health. For some reason I didn’t press her for details, and she didn’t offer.

See, I’d been a synchronised swimmer and a dancer for much of my childhood/teen years. And I’d also caught on to the tail end of the flouro high-cut leotard aerobics fad. I was already flexible. What else could yoga do for me? That was my thinking back then, anyway.

Next time I heard the word yoga mentioned was when I was forced to take an indefinite break from belly dancing. I’d been performing all over Sydney for a couple of years but had a toe injury that forced me to stop, or have surgery (which I ended up having many years later anyway). I was probably about twenty-five. A friend of my then-fiancé suggested I try his yoga school in Newtown.

And that’s where I met my very first yoga teachers. They’re kinda famous these days: Simon Borg-Olivier and Bianca Machliss of Yoga Synergy. To be honest, even though I enjoyed their classes, I didn’t quite get the point of yoga. Any pose that called on my flexibility was fun, but I found the strength stuff a bit… meh. Or to say it another way, I found asana that required physical strength (of the upper body especially) very difficult and my ego didn’t like it!

Simon and Bianca are great teachers but it took me ages to listen to their verbal instructions properly (**note: this is not to call fault with their teaching at all – more, it’s just that I don’t think I was “awake” enough to be able to listen properly, if you understand what I’m saying). I clearly recall the moment when I realised what Simon was actually saying in a class, versus what I thought he’d been saying. It was a revelation really. I probably did yoga there for a year or two, but once I left my fiancé, I moved to the other side of Sydney and didn’t know of any local yoga classes. And I wasn’t in love with asana, not yet.

Til I met my Guru. Even then, I was way more focused on trying to understand Tantrik philosophy than anything else. We’d do some asana but then we’d be sitting to meditate, read or engage in long conversations on non-dualism, view or abhasavada (for example). But watching him do asana was thrilling. He was (and is) a big muscular man and yet his movements are impeccably graceful. And flexible and strong. It was… inspiring.

When I first met some of his American students, I felt very intimidated because they were so darn good at yoga, whereas I was clumsily inept. Guruji confirmed: Oh don’t worry about that – most of them are yoga teachers and they’ve been practicing for years. Uh huh… somehow, instead of feeling inspired by this, I wanted to crawl away in a corner. I thought I’d never be any good at yoga asana!

Then post-initiation, post-assault and post-toe surgery, we had our Bali retreat which was specifically focused on asana and for the first time I got it. It’s kinda easy to let it all sink in when you’re immersed in a traditional Hindu/Tantrik community. It was my first real understanding of working with yoga from the bones – inside out, not just relying on muscular strength or physical form.

Even after that and attending many more classes, I still felt like I didn’t know what I was doing with yoga asana. I felt silly. I tried doing yoga at home but would give up after a few poses simply because I had no confidence in myself or my abilities.

However by then I did understand the way to structure a yoga practice: standing poses, balancing poses, back bends, twists, forward bends and inversions. But I had no flow. No sense of how moving my body was connected to my mind, let alone anything bigger than that.

[To be continued…]

~Svasti

On 2009 and a little history

Tags

2009 retrospective, Depression, EMDR, fireworks, freelance writing, Jeff Martin, Kindness, kirtan, Meditation, Panic attacks, PTSD, redundant, self-knowledge, Shadow Yoga, Suicide, Yoga, yoga teacher training

As I watched Sydney’s fireworks going off from my vantage point at Mrs Macquarie’s Chair (not an actual chair, of course), the following words excitedly slipped from between my lips…

Fuck off 2009! Seeeeeyah! GOOD RIDDANCE!!

Okay, perhaps that was a little vehement. Or perhaps not. Can’t think of too many people I know that had a fantastic 2009. For the most part it was pretty much a total bastard of a year. A struggle. Hard work. Ups and downs. Mostly downs. Generally it was a rather shitful twelve months…

Interestingly for me, it resembled 2005 in that it was both one of the best and worst years of my life.

The worst things about 2009 included:

• Being made redundant;
• Not being able to find a job for four very long months;
• Having a major stack on my bike and injuring my shoulder (it’s still not okay);
• Falling deeply into a morbid depression;
• Feeling suicidal for a fair portion of that time;
• Becoming almost entirely penniless;
• Taking on a job I loathed, because it was the only one I was offered at the time;
• Losing a good friend; and
• Being ignored by my family when I really needed their support (or is that perhaps a good thing?).

The best things about 2009 were:

• Seemingly overcoming my PTSD flashbacks* – I haven’t had one in almost a year, since February 2009. Which is actually pretty major. EMDR saved my life;
• The birth of my second niece;
• Yoga Teacher Training, which also saved my life;
• Being shown great kindness by M, the woman who runs the yoga school;
• Being hired for some freelance writing;
• Meeting my rock star crush (hubba hubba);
• Gaining some good friends;
• Discovering a local Kirtan group, oh and Shadow Yoga too;
• Finally getting a job I really like!!!
• Becoming a yoga teacher;
• Meeting up with some blog pals; and
• Finally, having a really great New Year’s Eve, the first in a long time (instead of being alone and depressed)

* Subject to further observation and continued cessation of flashbacks.

Overall, 2009 turned out to be sorta okay in the end, especially in the final three months or so. But much of the year was such a struggle. And yet, somehow I’ve managed to discover amazing new strengths and self-knowledge – spurred on very much by all the yoga and meditation, for sure.

In the same reflective vein, one of my Twitter buddies recently asked the question: where were you twenty years ago? So, while on holidays I undertook a bit of a mental wander through the past, given we’re now at the start of a new decade and all… the following is what I found.

Twenty years ago… I was eighteen, just finished/failed high school. I was mortified and embarrassed, and my fellow students couldn’t believe it (What? Svasti failed and I passed? I never would’ve expected that, LMAO!). I’d had something of a mental meltdown in my final year and completely screwed up my exams, missing entire sections of a couple of them. Not to mention that inexplicably, I had Physics as one of my subjects, and I’m hopeless at science! I shouldn’t have let my parents and teachers talk me into it. Honestly, I knew I shouldn’t have done it, but everyone else seemed convinced I could. But my brain simply doesn’t function that way – its more colours, shapes and flowers than numbers and measurements. I should’ve stuck with the literature and drama subjects. The assumption was that I’d be going to university. But when I failed, the new assumption was that I’d repeat the year. I tried to do that, switching schools of course, to avoid further embarrassment, but I couldn’t stick it out. There wasn’t a great deal of motivation in it for me as I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and very little support or encouragement. And so I became a high school dropout and a stripper. Heh, go figure.

Ten years ago… I was twenty-eight, and in a very short space of time I’d met my Guru and left my fiancé of almost three years. It was a brand new phase of my life, not that I knew it so much at the time…

Five years ago… I was thirty-three, and within just a few months, I was finally initiated into my Guru’s lineage, I was assaulted, and began a truly horrifying descent into PTSD and depression. Nuff said.

One year ago… I was thirty-seven, and doing the hard yards with resurfaced PTSD and depression. And I was working up the courage to get some EMDR therapy – I can’t believe I thought it would be scary! Not that it wasn’t super-hard, but living without daily flashbacks is infinitely better than living with them! Also, I was on the verge of starting my yoga teacher training (at the time, I was just going for a yoga studies certificate!). For that, I really have to thank my first therapist, H. When she seemed to be getting nowhere with me, in exasperation she asked me what I wanted to do with my life. What my dreams were. And out of my mouth poured a bunch of things, including: I wanna be a yoga teacher…

Today… I’m thirty-eight, and I am a yoga teacher. Which still feels kinda surreal. I’ve found a measure of joy, and a way to generate self-love and self-joy. Can’t say I’m good at doing those things 100% of the time, but I’m working on it. In fact, part of my upcoming plans for this year will include ways to generate more love and joy in my life on a daily basis. I still get panic attacks occasionally. I still experience anxiety when I’m in massive crowds of people (which has to change if I’m going to go to India). There’s still plenty of work for me to do. But I’m endlessly grateful that I now feel equipped to take on these challenges. That I know how to fend off my depression. And I’m watching as I evolve into an actual yoga teacher – not just by certification. Finally, I think I’m possibly-maybe ready to fall in love again, whenever I am blessed with meeting the right person. I can only hope that that’s on the cards for me. And whoever they are, watch out because I’ve got so much I want to share!

So yeah. A year of pain and triumph, too. And it’s interesting to take a look back and notice that there does seem to be some kind of journey unfolding here. Sorta.

Next post… my plans for 2010!!

~Svasti

Teacher training update

Tags

Asana, Headstand, inverted asana, Pigeon ethereal whisperspose, Yoga, yoga teacher training

Haven’t been talking much about my yoga teacher training here. Which surprises me; thought I’d be writing about it a lot more than I have! And here we are, a month from the end and I’m almost qualified (hooray!).

Yet, I feel a little remiss. I could have shared more here. In some ways I’ve wanted to. But much of it has felt so very personal. So interior. Like my body has been drip feeding secrets to my mind. So I haven’t been in a place to share, because I’m still getting it myself.

Huge day today though.

Including a MASSIVE session on inversions. So we can learn how to teach them, as well as checking our progress.

And yeah. We did Every. Inversion. Going.

Or tried to. Couldn’t quite cut it with Scorpion/forearm balance. But it was right at the end, by which time I was pretty zonked.

*Yawns!*

Excitingly, we learned a new way to teach headstand that allows for a free-standing pose, but with support so it doesn’t seem so freaky. Well, it’s a new teaching method to me, anyway!

The following is a description of what I learned.

But please: if you aren’t familiar with headstand, please don’t try this without a yoga teacher around!

Sit in dandasana with your feet flat against wall. Place a blanket where your knees are, so that its a lower leg distance away. Which means your starting position is near, but not right next to the wall.

Come onto your hands and knees. Elbows are one forearm distance apart (cross your arms to check the distance). Hands are clasped, forming a triangle with your elbows. Both wrists and elbows press firmly into the floor. The crown of the head is cupped by the hands. Walk your feet towards your head, making sure you are balancing on the crown of the head, not too far forward or back.

When you’re ready, kick or raise the feet up to touch the wall. The knees are bent (behind your body). Then practice lifting one leg off the wall at a time, so the leg is vertical and aligned with your body. Keep pressing into the elbows, the head and forearms must bear the weight evenly. Eventually work up to both legs off the wall and above the head, which requires core stability, strength and balance. The good thing is, the wall is always there to keep you safe! Which helps people overcome fear of falling, a limiting factor when attempting headstand.

Cool! And today, using this method I achieved the best headstand I’ve done to date!

Then… my turn to teach a practice class and receive constructive feedback. I’d invited a friend to join us, someone who isn’t as familiar with asana as my fellow students. Gotta make sure I can teach real beginners!

Putting the class program together was kinda dream-like. Actually, part of it did come together in my waking dream! I’ve written a few programs already, and it seems to get easier every time. So at 6am this morning (it’s been a busy week!) I woke, and in my demi-somnambulant state arrived a few visuals. Or perhaps they were thoughts? It’s a little hard to say.

Anyway. Class time. My fellow students and I were pretty exhausted from the inversions so I decided to mellow it up a little. Slow it down. And out it flowed.

Somewhere in there, about three quarters through, maybe in Pigeon pose, ethereal whispers wafted into the room. Like a just out of earshot conversation, but really, addressed to me. No one in the class was talking, that’s not what I mean…

Snippets of comprehension flowed into my body, but not my mind. The gist being something like: THIS is why you’re doing it!

As in, why I’m becoming a yoga teacher. Can’t say I’ve got a handle on that just yet. I didn’t quite plan it this way, yet here I am. And why? I’ve asked myself, but don’t have any honest answers.

I mean, why does the world need yet another yoga teacher? And why me? I was happy enough being a long term student of yoga in all its facets. I’ve never felt a desire to teach before, not really.

My body knows more than I do, though. It’s become the great furnace to process and reduce the dross, outputting refined and gleaming metal. So… guess I’ll find out when my body sees fit to release its secrets.

Its okay, I can wait…

Til then, it’s enough to know my class was enjoyed. That I guided people to a deep state of relaxation. That my friend felt “great” afterwards, compared to how she felt before. It’s a start, right?

And despite my lack of self-confidence for a good three quarters of this year, despite the heavy events that have threatened to sink me to the bottom of the ocean, somehow I am becoming a yoga teacher.

Even if I’m not quite sure how that came to be!

~Svasti

Yoga at the Wall

Tags

Nancy McCaochan, trikonasana, Yoga at the Wall, yoga teacher training

Thanks to a comment on Twitter by YogaDork, I discovered and ordered a marvellous book – Yoga at the Wall by Nancy McCaochan…

I’ve just started reading it and I love, love, love it already.

It’s an amazing book in many ways. First, there’s the premise of a book about yoga poses using the wall as a support – the very first that’s ever been written on the topic. This year in my yoga teacher training, I’ve been taught a handful of wall-supported poses, usually with the intent of helping beginners. But never a whole series and never as a practice of itself for all levels of practitioner.

Don’t know if any of you have tried it, but for example, doing trikonasana against the wall shows you exactly where your alignment is and isn’t. Are both your shoulders back? Is your torso directly over your legs or sticking out at an angle, like a banana? Are you rotating your torso enough?

This is the way I’ve been taught to use the wall. But this book takes it way beyond checking your alignment.

And before she even starts talking about asana specifically, Nancy writes about the resistance in our mind and body in a very powerful and simple way.

I wanted to share with you the following snippets from the first chapter, which really clarified information that I already knew about yoga and the mind/body, but I’ve never enunciated it like this!

There’s more going on in each pose, however, than mechanical resistance between paired muscle groups. Muscle tissues contract in response to electrical stimuli from the neurons that enervate them. These are largely under the control of our will. However, atrophied or underdeveloped muscles, unforged neural pathways, a lack of kinaesthetic awareness, bone structure and injury are all conditions that impede the desired muscular response. This kind of resistance is more subtle than muscular resistance and demands a refined sense of how to work. We modify poses when our range of motion is compromised or when we’re not strong enough to do the full asana. We use movement to open joint tissues and to develop kinaesthetic awareness. In all cases, using a steady, directed breath, we create a kind of altered state of consciousness, so that we can bring the mind to bear within the tissues of the body.

It’s here – in the mind – that we come to see how our resistance to dealing with our stuff comes into play in our practice. Our bodies are vast libraries of information. In our DNA, there lives the history of the evolution of our species. In addition, our hips, shoulders, elbow, neck and spine carry the memories that comprise the stories of our individual lives. Each time we experience anything, a biochemical reaction takes place somewhere inside us. If the experience is pleasant, endorphins are released; we feel good. If the experience is not pleasant, we feel sad or angry or frustrated, and corresponding chemicals are released into our blood stream. We feel tired or our stomach gets upset. Our memories are born in this chemical soup, which leaves traces within our cells. Through repetition of particular reactions, we create a palpable psychic residue that becomes part of both our psychological predispositions and our physical structure…

…One of the basic principles on which we human creatures operate is the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of pain. Shunting emotions into the body is one mechanism by which many of us avoid the discomfort, or negative feelings. This fundamental psychic resistance is the fodder for any meaningful yoga practice as we work with our bodies to unlock the mysteries of our minds and emotions.
~Yoga at the Wall by Nancy McCaochan

And this, ladies and gentleman, is one of the many reasons I do yoga!

~Svasti

Yoga is a Blacksmith

Tags

belly dancing, blacksmith, Confidence, constant immersion, Depression, Eye contact, forge, handstands at midnight, PTSD, theatre, Vulnerability, Yoga, yoga for depression, yoga for PTSD, yoga teacher training

Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/the-lees/61448491/

There’s a thing that causes me to simultaneously feel dread and express tears of joy.

They are one and the same: the becoming of myself as a yoga teacher.

They’re two sides of the same coin. A coin that’s being heated, smelted, and forged into a new shape. Same raw material, but the qualities are shifting.

This re-working is an elemental process, creating change as a by-product of the end-result (which is really just another beginning).

But it’s not easy, just because it’s something I want. The wanting and the reality of the getting are entirely different.

The clamour of tools is distracting, and it’s tempting to not pick them up. Sort of. Actually, yeah. But then I look ahead.

Because it’s all about priorities. If I keep those in sight, then it’s easier to step back into the forge. Even if it means daily facing up to scary long-held patterns that scare me witless.

I’ve never seen you this nervous before, says the principal of my yoga school.

She says this after observing my very first effort last weekend, at leading a fellow student in a half hour impromptu yoga class (I was given fifteen minutes to construct a lesson plan).

Oh yes. Very nervous. Partly, it’s the hearing myself speak. And knowing the exact words to say, and being responsible for how other people move their bodies. Speaking emotively because that’s where we connect, that’s part of the work of yoga.

All of this has to come from a place of supreme openness and vulnerability, too. But also confidence and trust that speaking from this place will be well received and accepted.

So, there’s the confidence factor, which has never been one of my strong points. The vulnerability factor – I’ve spent the last four years or so feeling exceptionally vulnerable… and then there’s the thing with eye contact.

Dealing with PTSD and depression made me want to be invisible, unattractive, and hidden away from other people… it’s made holding eye contact very difficult…

So how is it I ended up doing a yoga teacher training course again? Oh yeah, because I love yoga. And because it was suggested.

Photo credit: http://digilander.libero.it/stebama/GoddessGallery.html

But y’know, this wasn’t on the pamphlet – thrown in at no extra charge, this training will help you burn through your shit.

Yesterday I had my second opportunity to lead my fellow students through a series of asana. Scary!

My extreme nervousness is a little strange because it’s not like I’m new to performing – years as a theatre actor and bellydancer took care of that. And this is sort of like a performance, right?

Except it’s not, it’s different. There’s no flashy costume or make up to hide behind. I am not being someone or something else. There’s no loud music to disappear into.

I am just me. Unadulterated. No filters.

So, this week I figured if I could just pretend like it was a theatre show and ‘learn my lines’, I’d feel more comfortable.

I spent all week preparing – writing copious notes on each pose. And practicing, even til late Friday night, trying to get some flow happening between poses.

[Note to self: handstands at midnight are just a tad too exhilarating!]

And making sure I had the right words to say, and avoiding gap-fillers: ummm, okay, what we’ll do next is…

In the process, I realised – of course!! – the key here really is preparation. Which requires constant immersion.

Because with yoga, to teach it, you really need to be living it. Theoretical knowledge simply doesn’t cut it.

But sometimes, I think it’s the immersion I’ve been running from. Because I know if I don’t, this change that’s coming will be irrevocable.

Then, that’s what I want, right? But with that change comes a free-fall from what I’ve known (even if its stuff I’m not happy with) towards the unknown…

A Svasti that lives and breathes yoga with every fibre of my being. And a Svasti that knows my stuff, and can help spread the gift of yoga to others.

So, yesterday’s session went really well! Not perfectly of course. But about a 150% improvement on the previous week. And it was such a high!

Afterwards, I was trembling, close to tears, grateful, humble and just… feeling entirely like someone else: that other aforementioned Svasti.

As I’m leaving my teacher remarks: So you’re looking so much better lately. There’s something very striking in your eyes. I noticed it last week as well. What’s going on? You look so much happier.

I replied: It’s this work. It’s changing me. It’s helping me face up to myself and burn off more of the negativity that’s been in my life for so long. PTSD destroys your self-confidence and here I am finding it again.

Then I told her that as well as general yoga, and yoga for women I’m really interested in yoga for those who deal with depression and PTSD, as I have.

Seems I’ve chosen a specialty of sorts, and the Blacksmith’s fire is still burning…

**Update: The wonderful BlissChick alerted me to the existence of an article on Yoga and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PDF file, 435kb) from The Trauma Center in Brookline, MA. An excellent read!!**

~Svasti

You’ve come a long way, baby

Tags

Asana, bird’s eye view, Blogging, Depression, Fat Boy Slim, Happy blog birthday, Healing, Meditation, Nataraj, Natarajasana, Post, Post-traumatic stress, PTSD, Recovery, Retreat, Spirituality, Therapy, Trauma, Truth, Unemployed, Yoga, yoga teacher training, Yogasana

For years I was totally hopeless with balancing asana in my yoga practice. I’d wobble, fall over and enviously look at others, wondering why I couldn’t do what they did.

Then some time ago, wobbling through Natarajasana (dancer pose) I had a realisation that changed everything… You’re not just trying to balance on one leg – you need to stabilise yourself by engaging every little piece of your body!

Oh! Seems so obvious in retrospect, but for some reason I really didn’t get that, until I did.

In turn, this taught me something important about life, in a very practical (not theoretical) way: Nothing in our lives is disconnected. Nothing.

Funnily enough, I’ve had this realisation many times – during meditation, from reading books and listening to dozens of lectures on the matter too.

Seems we don’t get it, until we do. Nothing is disconnected.

We’ve come a long long way together
Through the hard times and the good
I have to celebrate you baby
I have to praise you like I should
~Fat Boy Slim

For those of us consciously trying to heal our inner wounds, with our fragmented selves desperately trying to keep up… we’re often so busy focusing on the trauma, it’s hard to see the bigger picture.

Just for now though, I’m taking a bird’s eye view, trying to see the lay of the land, so to speak.

Why? Well, today marks the first birthday of Svasti! Hip-hip-hooray!!

To quote my last post, this blog grew as something of an impulse – a very strong desire to save my sanity. A much needed space to expel the violence, sadness and struggles I’d been dealing with all alone. Screaming into cyberspace seemed like a good idea, and I was right.

Blogging I’ve found… is sort of like travelling the world with an entirely different perspective. Instead of seeing museums and temples and the like, I find myself surveying the inner workings of people’s minds all ‘round the world.

In the process, I’ve made a lot of friends and learned plenty about myself and others.

Such as: There’s no simple cure to PTSD or depression. And there’s peaks and troughs to recovery. The peaks make me feel like I’m finally getting somewhere. The troughs make me feel like checking out of Hotel de Life.

Healing is not a one-shot deal. There’s no magic pill to solve all my ills, or anyone else’s. But the more we express, the better it gets (in the long run, if not straight away).

And given human nature is how it is, we find resonance in each other’s words. We discover we aren’t alone. We’re all connected. So, what we write can benefit others. That’s a good thing!

But I’ve also learned the assault I started writing about was only a small part of the story – a kind of bookend really, to a certain era of my life. An era I’m learning I need to write about. That’s all connected, too.

In the last twelve months I’ve: started therapy, quit a stable (but soul-destroying job), spent five weeks in spiritual retreat, conquered the worst of my PTSD symptoms (although I’m far from symptom-free), gained and lost another job, had a second niece arrive, found new friends, started yoga teacher training and struggled with a very morbid attack of depression. And I’ve spent the better part of this year unemployed, surviving on a fraction of what I usually earn.

Seems I’ve been shedding one skin after the other, kinda like an onion and with just as many tears.

But none of it is disconnected, I’m convinced of that. Where we’re at is a result of where we’ve been. There’s no plot device that led me down this path.

Gotta say this much – it’s a glorious place from which to find my balance in life, and I know I can do it.

So, here’s to the next twelve months in my/everyone else’s journey.

And thanks everyone for reading!

~Svasti