Not sure if I looked this graceful, I certainly didn’t *feel* this graceful, but just a picture for reference:

eka pada rajakapotasana

I experienced that today. My mother is an extremely accomplished, dedicated and wonderful nurse, now nurse manager. She recently decided to explore holistic nursing and had her first weekend retreat for the certification. We were on the phone this afternoon and she was talking about how she realized she doesn’t have to be mad and harbor negativity about things, that it’s okay to just acknowledge that somethings hurt and move on. We were discussing how it’s actually easier to live life full of love and happiness than it is to live full of anger and resentment. Very idealistic.  She did point out that it could be a bit much if everyone was like that ALL the time, and she’s right. That’s when I said, “Well, we have to have to be able to practice what we’re learning on something.” It just came out of nowhere, but as soon as I said it, I was like, Woah, I’m right (haha!). Her response was, “Wow, Amanda, you are so right!” and that it was a very thoughtful and introspective statement, even though it seems obvious.

But it’s true. Sure it’d be nice if everyone was kind and full of goodness… that’s what many of us who practice yoga strive for. But we are human, by nature we have kleshas, or stains, flaws, afflications, which we can try to improve upon, “wash out”, but we also have to accept as part of ourselves, as well as part of others. We can pass on the love and grace that we feel and practice everyday by being accepting of others, even with their own personal blemishes. I suppose I could even go as far as saying that we need to be thankful for kleshas, because in a way, they help contribute to individuality and personality. Balancing “bad” (I really don’t like using that word, but it gets the point across) with “good” in ourselves and in how we treat others is a big part of what keeps this earth pulsating, and that definitely takes practice.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe instead of trying to make everything “better”, it’d be more effective, more beneficial, to just work on keeping things balanced…. maybe I should start keeping a notebook of my own personal pearls.

Then September came. My teaching days become longer (okay – normal – but I get used to summer session hours quickly. I teach music at a special education school.), all my violin students came back plus I picked up 2 more (in anticipation of losing 2 or 3, though that didn’t happen), and my physical practice dropped from 3-4 classes a week to 1-2. ::sigh:: In just a few weeks I feel that I have lost some of my strength, which was upsetting me initially, but I quickly realized that there was some good coming from my lack of class attendance.

For one, my home practice has increased. It certainly isn’t nearly as intense or rigorous as taking a class at a studio, but at least it’s something, even if it’s just 15-20 minutes with a concentrated focus (usually hip openers, which I don’t like but know I need, or inversions, which I love) or sitting in virasana in front of the TV for a bit. The physical practice of asana is carving a more regular and prominent spot in my daily life, which is something that I’ve worried about and struggled with. Funny how it suddenly just happened.

I also noticed at the last class that I was able to attend that I’ve softened. Not that I’ve ever defined my body as “hard” in any way, but I think the break from strenuous physical practice has allowed my muscles to un-tense a bit, making my movement less restricted, even though my legs began shaking just minutes into the class. Or maybe it’s just occurring as a result of the increased home practice. Or maybe both. Though sometimes I worry that I take the whole “soften your outer body” concept a little too literally – ha! Seriously though, even though I haven’t felt as strong the past few classes, I’ve felt more easeful in my practice, even in poses that usually make me feel discomfort.

I know in a few short weeks once I readjust to my crazy schedule, I’ll be able to get in a solid 2-3 classes again and will build up the bit of strength that I feel I’ve lost plus some, but I hope to do that while continuing to develop my home practice and still maintianing this new melty comfort that I’ve found. This concept, this paradox, is something that is threaded through Anusara and Tantric philosophy which initially drew me into this practice and that I love so much. Silly me, I actually get excited over challenges like this!

This is definitely spilling over into my sequencing practice. I know in my head what to do and what I would want to do, I can move through it and figure out what works and what doesn’t, but I haven’t been able to get into the routine of jotting it all down on paper.

I understand the importance of planning when it comes to teaching. However, I feel I thrive as a teacher when I read my students. In my meager 6 years of professional teaching, I know that no matter how much I plan a class, chances are it won’t go exactly the way it’s written. I like to take the time to explore student questions, I don’t stress about skipping a step or taking a few steps back. I know that time can be the enemy when trying to stay perfectly on track, so instead of fighting time, I am often able to change my tracks. And I feel I do so successfully.

I don’t do much planning for my private violin students at all. I’ll go in with an idea of what we’re going to work on, but also an endlessly open mind. I am fully aware of the strengths and weaknesses of each individual student. I know what my long term goals are for each one and develop short term objectives for each lesson as it unfolds. There is certainly direction and routine and focus in each half hour that I teach, but I don’t think I’ve ever written a single planning word, phrase or sequence on paper. Regardless, I must be doing something right because I haven’t had the room in my schedule to take on new students in months, even though I still get calls or emails regularly.

I understand that a private lesson is much different than a class. In a class full of people, you must address a variety of needs and abilities – you can not just jump the tracks for a single student’s issue all the time (though I believe it can be done WELL on occasion and if appropriate to the flow of the class). So you must have a plan in mind. I guess it’s just the tediousness of writing it all down that bothers me.

This “vent” is inspired by the 2nd weekend of teacher training, which starts tomorrow. I have not done my 40 “suggested” sequences – I’ve done maybe 10ish. I’ve moved myself through a whole lot more than that and I’ve taken the time to think about the sequence for beyond the suggested 40. I don’t know if this is okay or not – I mean, of course it’s “okay” – I guess I don’t know if I’m letting myself or others down. I’ll try to crank out as many as I can before 7:30 tomorrow, but honestly, it will be tough for me. I wonder if I’ll ever get past this mental block in any aspect of my teaching and how much of a weakness it really is for myself… or if it is at all.

One of these issues was the passing of my 18 year old cousin who lives in Virginia. I will not go into too many personal details, but many members of my very big and extended family were present when he passed away. For a few days, his fate seemed uncertain, but my aunt, who is a very devoted and faithful Catholic, said that once he saw what was on the other side, why would he want to come back? This has really resonated with me through the past 5 days and has actually been a comfort to me when thinking of other loved ones that have passed.

We do not know what is out there after this lifetime, for all we know, this could be it. However, many people in many religions genuinely believe that “life after death” is a blissful, joyous experience. I believe that we should live this worldly life as closely as we possibly can to the blissful eternity that many of us expect to come after. Yoga not only helps us to get good at living this life, but I believe brings us closer to that never-ending euphoria that so many of us have some sort of faith in.

And if it doesn’t exist, if there is nothing but nothing after this life, at least I will know that through my yoga, I was able to have a small taste of what could possibly be heaven. And because of that, I will keep practicing, and one day, I hope, help others to experience some of that delight.

My aunt, who would most likely disagree with this, is a brilliant yogini. She may not know how to do a down dog or balance inner and outer spiral, but she has become good at living life, though I know it has not been easy. She is truly open to grace. The word “yoga” comes with so many attachments in our society, and in our world really, when to me, I feel like I learn new definitions for the word yoga every day. This past week, yoga has meant faith – a trust in something – even if we do not know what that something is.

There are only 12 notes in western music. That’s it. Almost any music you hear on the radio, on TV, on your iPod contains only 12 notes (unless it’s some really funky stuff that divides the pitches up more (or less) than that… which I have some CDs of and appreciate it for what it is, but it is certainly VERY uncommon.). That’s not a lot. Of course, there is pitch, which one note can have many of (vibration frequency) and there is timbre, which is what makes a flute sound different than a tuba, even if they play the exact same note. Also, in music, you can layer these notes, pitches and timbres to create beauty and a variety of sounds and experiences…. but it’s still only 12 notes.

In yoga, there are only a limited number of poses, granted MUCH more than 12, but one body is only capable of performing one pose at a time, unlike how string and some percussion instruments can play more than one note at a time…. and even brass & woodwind with the right humming techniques. All of these poses are not accessible to every student. When you consider the new or basic student, there is really only a very limited repertoire of complete poses you can expect them to do. That being said, it is the teacher’s job to find the different “pitches” and “timbres” of these poses in order to make the asana practice interesting – to find the beauty and variety in the experience. This is where the challenge lies for many of us.

At this point, I don’t have suggestions or words of wisdom, just a comparitive consideration to offer for contemplation. I could expand upon this analogy, but for now, I will stop there. I wont, however, stop finding the music in my yoga, even in the quietist of moments, and I certainly will never stop finding the yoga in music.

These are all definitions of the word sophisticated. Another student I study with, whom I respect very much and consider to have a practice more advanced than my own in some ways, actually said that he considers *my* practice “far more sophisticated than [his].” This comment was made about a week ago, but I haven’t been able to shake it.

Through this process (and it is a continuously ongoing, really just starting, process) I am hoping to learn how to trust myself and have more confidence in myself. I think I may have mentioned that I feel the least experienced student in my teacher training group, but I think I have to remember that I only know the me that’s in my head. I strive to project humble confidence, even if I’m usually feeling more humble than confident, but I guess it must be working.

I don’t consider my practice to be “highly complicated or developed”. Yet. However, without sounding presumptious, I think I may have a somewhat “refined knowledge of the ways of the world cultivated especially through [limited] experience” and am learning to be “finely experienced and aware”. So maybe my practice is a bit more sophisticated than I perceive it to be, but it is certainly not at, nor near, its peak.

Either way, it is inspiring. I hope to take some time tonight to go through a few ideas. I spent some time last night cross referencing the sequencing section in my training manual with Light on Yoga and the few notes I took over the weekend. I need to start moving though to feel it all out. I also want to type up the 2 sequences I developed over the weekend and share them with some of my fellow trainees. One thing I learned from teaching is that collaboration is a wonderful thing.

Today, Sunday, was the most difficult day for me. We purposely had very little direction in writing a sequence, we were to begin it however we wanted and then figure out what direction and level it was going in. I think I sat for an hour wanting to cry. Literally, there were tears in my eyes and the frustration and “writer’s block” I felt was more than I anticipated and more than I felt on Friday or Saturday night. For a few moments, I really thought that I was not capable of this, that entering this program was a mistake, even though it’s something I unquestionably want to do.

So I started writing. I started with a variation on a surya namaskar. My inspiration was actually the first teacher I ever took a class with at my studio, whom I rarely get a chance to take a class with now. It started to come together into a vinyasa focused on shoulder integration and I realized that this could lead to a great L-handstand focus. I went back and wrote my warm ups and then worked my way through standing poses with both my teachers and a new friend and ultimately ended up with what was a pretty decent intro or basic class for shoulders with L-handstand as the apex pose. I didn’t feel great about what I had written, but I certainly felt better than I  had a few hours ago when I was fighting back tears.

The last 45 minutes of the weekend was spent going through some of the sequences that my peers wrote. I handed mine in first because I was one of only 2 people who wrote a basic series. I felt intimidated and almost disappointed in myself that I hadn’t explored some more advanced poses, but I reminded myself that I needed to start somewhere and I had an acceptable and logical series down on paper that could potentially be usable. The teacher went through the other basic series which I felt was much more interesting than mine, but tried not to be discouraged, then another student’s series. With only 15 minutes I figured we were done and maybe mine needed more work, but she called me up to read mine through the class.

I think the scariest part was sitting in the “teacher’s seat” even though I was just basically calling out postures I had messily written (and actually, that was the rewritten, edited sheet!) on a small piece of lined paper. It went well. It looked nice. It flowed for the most part. I was pleased. I received some great and usable constructive feedback from my teachers and peers and felt modestly proud of what I had accomplished.

There is still a lot for me to learn. A lot. There is still a lot of work to do as well. I’m a little nervous to balance my “homework” from teacher training with my job, my private students, my grad school work, my social and family obligations and maintaining my own personal practice as my own personal practice not under a constant self-observed microscope. It will be a challenge, but as I said, my desire to continue this journey is unquestionable. I know this is what I want, I know that I can do this, I know that it will ultimately be a wonderful learning experience on many, many levels.

As intimidating as it all is, I am equally excited and inspired by my teachers and my kula and so fortunate to have their support, as well as the support and encouragement from my husband and my family, through this journey. The three weeks until the next training weekend will go quickly for sure and I’m eager to see where it takes me.