So. Not. Cool.
October 17, 2009 at 6:38 pm | In coworkers and colleagues, practice off the mat, questions and conundrums | Leave a CommentOkay, here’s what happened; several weeks ago, one of my colleagues at the health club asked me if I’d sub her Saturday morning yoga class. I like this lady very much and I didn’t have anything planned for the morning, so I told her I’d be happy to do it.
I arrived at the club and taught a lovely class. When it was over, everyone was rolling up their mats in preparation for leaving. As I was clearing up my things, I was commenting to one of the participants that her form in a particular pose was especially lovely – keep in mind that I wasn’t just standing there talking, but was cleaning up as I spoke – when the woman who teaches the next class in the room – let’s call her Annie – walked in.
Her exact words to me were “Chili. Honey. It’s 9:30. I have a class. Get out.”
I was horrified. I gathered up all of my things and headed for the hall, seething.
Now, to be fair (fair? I’m not sure what other word to use), Annie is not famous for her tact. In fact, she’s got a reputation as being a self-centered diva. She’s the kind of person who announces in her classes, over the loudspeakers, that her birthday is next week and offers up gift suggestions. She’s blunt and forceful, and everyone knows this. Should I have been surprised that she would speak to me this way? No; I’m not part of her clique and she has made no show of hiding her disdain for those, like me, whom she deems to be less than her.
What I really objected to, though, is her willingness to be so rude and unprofessional in front of a room full of yoga participants. One of the women in the room found me in the hall and told me that she was upset by the display; there was no need of Annie’s behavior, she told me, and she was sorry that it happened to me. I tried to be professional about it and told the lady that *I* was sorry that it made her uncomfortable, but didn’t really say anything else. What else could I have said?
Here’s my question, Dear Readers; what do I do about it? Should I bring it up with Annie and ask her to please express her impatience in a more professional way? (Just as a point of reference, everyone complains that classes don’t clear out of the room fast enough, and this has been a gripe for YEARS; why we don’t stagger the classes with five minutes between them is a wonder to me.) Do I bring it up with the lady for whom I was subbing and let her know that I may not be comfortable subbing that class in the future because I’d rather not put myself in a position to be abused by Annie again? Do I tell my boss what happened? Do I hope a member complains to the management, or do I just chalk the whole experience up to Annie’s being an unprofessional, immature, and selfish child and leave it at that?
I tried really hard to not let this wreck all the nice energy I worked up in the class, but as you can tell from the fact that I’m writing this a little more than 9 hours after it happened, clearly I failed.
Sigh.
I Adore Him
May 18, 2009 at 8:07 am | In compassion and connection | Leave a CommentMy husband rocks my world in tiny little ways every single day.
An example? This morning, I was wondering whether or not my yogabalance@comcast.net email address was working properly. I hadn’t received any email though that address in ages, and I used it as the contact for the certificate I made for Beanie’s Teacher Appreciation Week (every year about this time, I make up a certificate for a free hour of personal yoga instruction for the TAW raffle).
ANYWAY, I sent a note to Mr. Chili at work and asked him if he’d send me a test email to make sure that I could still get messages through that address. Here’s what he sent me:
This is a test of the emergency yoga email system!
OOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
OOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
OOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
This concludes the test of the emergency yoga email system. IF this had been a real message you would have been told how to contact your nearest yogini for immediate help.
I adore him.
I Love the Idea…
April 1, 2009 at 10:50 am | In compassion and connection, inspiration, learning and growing, questions and conundrums | 5 Comments….but I’m not sure it would fly.
What do you think of this?
I mean, I can TOTALLY get behind the premise, and I completely trust the science, too; it just feels like laughing would be a huge component to a healthy life, so the scientific findings bearing that out make sense to me.
What I’m wondering, though, is would you come back to a class where the instructor started off by telling you to take a deep breath and just start laughing? Would you think the instructer were off of his or her nut? Would you feel like an idiot doing it?
Before the video was even over, I was chuckling, so I think that the infectious nature of laughter would help to take care of any initial awkwardness. I love that laughing would do all the physiological things that it does AND that people would kind of be forced to not take their practices so seriously (it’s supposed to be FUN, People!). I wonder, though, if I’d turn someone fatally off by trying this at the end of one of my classes.
Thoughts?
Pose Study: Mountain Pose / Tadasana
March 29, 2009 at 8:34 am | In poses and asana | 1 CommentI’ve been bothered lately that I haven’t been posting with any kind of regularity here. Yoga is a really big part of my life, but one wouldn’t know it by glancing at the frequency of my posts.
Since it’s bugging me, I decided this morning that I would start a feature here in which I do an in-depth investigation of individual poses. I spend a fair bit of time in my classes trying to teach good (and safe) form; having some of those studies here might be a good way of clarifying the postures in my mind – not to mention helping others get them right, too. Here, then, is one of the foundational poses; mountain stance or tadasana (ta•DAH•sah•nah).
Begin by finding a comfortable position with your feet. Traditionally, this pose is taught with the insides of the feet touching and the insides of the legs zipped together, but I don’t find that a comfortable way to stand, so I go with a hip-width stance. Having said that, though, most people have no realistic concept of how wide their hips actually are, so I teach them to put two fists together at the thumbs and try to fit them between their feet; if the fists just barely fit – so much the better if they have to squeeze in a little too tightly – then the stance is just about right.
Begin by focusing just on the feet. Imagine looking at yourself from underneath the floor; you should see a nice, even footprint on the mat. Lift all your toes up as high as you can, spread them out, then set them back on the mat. Try to make your feet even toes to heels, inside of foot to outside of foot, and left to right. Make the outside edges of your feet parallel to one another, then wiggle around until your feet feel “right.”
Once you’ve settled your feet, bring your attention through your ankles, then put a soft little bend in your knees and put them underneath your hips; this will tilt your tailbone under just a bit, which is good. Imagine putting a big space between every bone in your back – start at your tailbone and open up all the way to the bone tucked under your skull at the top of your neck.
Pull your belly button in and up toward your heart (even if it doesn’t actually move very much), then push your heart out just a bit and lift it toward the ceiling. Square your shoulders and let them slide down your spine away from your ears. Check to make sure that the points of your hip bones are parallel to the floor. Release your arms down and relax your hands.
People generally lead with their faces. Don’t believe me? Next time you’re at a stop light, look at the guy in the car next to you; his face will be well in front of his neck, I practically guarantee it. Check out the woman at the table next to you in the restaurant. Watch the way people walk and you’ll see what I mean; people’s noses get there before they do. In order to counter this tendency, tuck your chin very gently toward your spine and imagine pushing all your energy out though the center of the top of your head. Think of a charging bull – always lead with the middle of the top of your brain, not with your nose or your chin. It’s not important how close you can get your face to the floor in yoga; what’s important is how long you can make your spine.
From here, I invite people to relax into the pose. You shouldn’t feel like you’re a soldier on review; you’re strong and straight, certainly, but you shouldn’t be tense.
Here is also where I invite people to close their eyes. Doing this accomplishes three things: one, it keeps people from comparing themselves to anyone else; two, it helps people get inside their skin to feel what’s happening in there and to make sure that their bones are properly lined up and that the right muscles are working and the rest of them are relaxed; and three, it helps to bring people back to a consciousness of their breath.
Begin to be aware of your breath here. Just observe it at first; don’t try to change or influence it. Notice everything you can about the breath; how it feels, how it sounds, how you actually physically breathe – through your mouth or your nose or a combination of each – how it tastes or smells, how your body changes as you breathe in and out, and what happens between the breaths. Then, using six or seven or however many you need to get there, begin to deepen the breath. Try to work from bottom to top; every time you breathe in, take the air deeper into your body with the goal of breathing all the way into your hip pockets and, eventually, all the way into the sinuses behind your eyebrows. Every time you breathe out, start by emptying the bottom part of your breath first, eventually emptying all the way to behind your eyebrows. Don’t force the breath, mind you – only breathe to your own capacity – but do be mindful fo reaching that capacity, and of maintaining it through your practice.
I often do a little visualization work here, as well. I ask my students to imagine a little ball of light between heart and breastbone, and ask them to use their breath to power it up so that it’s strong enough to send a beam of light to the bone that lives right behind their heart and, from there, to illuminate their spine such that a beam of light shines from their tailbone and from the crown center of their head. I use this image through the class to keep their attention on making their spines long and of reaching through poses rather than simply just standing there.
So, that’s mountain pose. It’s a lot more than “just standing there,” huh?
I generally use this posture at the beginning of class as a centering pose, and between rounds of forward folds, sun salutations, and series of warriors or standing stretches. After certain rigorous series, if one stands quietly in mountain pose, one can often feel one’s fingers and face tingling – I love the delight that people express when they realize that they can feel that in themselves, and I sometimes have a hard time getting people to leave mountain because they’re so enjoying being present.
Namaste, y’all.
Twice in One Day
February 1, 2009 at 3:32 pm | In compassion and connection, observations, philosophy, poses and asana, practice off the mat | 1 CommentToday was a GREAT yoga day for me.
For starters, I had 38 people in my Sunday morning class. Yep, you read that right; THIRTY EIGHT. I’m more than a little surprised that my numbers are still that high, frankly; I’m used to a surge in attendance after the new year – resolutions and all – but the herd usually thins substantially by now. I am heartened and humbled that so many people are willing to leave their warm beds on Sunday mornings to come and play with me.
I had a couple of brand-new, never-been-to-a-yoga-class-ever folks in class today. I LOVE it when new people come to my class; I feel like it’s an opportunity to hold open a door for them. So many of them come in nervous and apprehensive, and most of them leave feeling like this yoga stuff isn’t so scary after all. I love that.
Anyway, we had a great class. I worked ‘em a little harder than usual, though don’t ask me why because I have no idea where the energy for a warrior series AND a sun salutation came from. Through it all, though, I was mindful of my new folks and made sure that my directions were very clear. I reminded people, again and again, to only do what they could – that their best was, and always is, good enough. When it was all over, I laid them all out for a little rest, settled into a seated posture myself, and waited for the Universe to tell me what today’s lesson was.
What I got was an impression of Thich Nhat Hanh eating a tangerine. In his book, The Miracle of Mindfulness, Hanh tells the story of eating a tangerine – really EATING it – to remind us that we can receive so much more of life’s wonders and blessings if we just stop long enough to actually NOTICE them.
“So much of our lives,” I said, “feel like riptides. We’re so focused on keeping our heads above water – on just keeping UP – that we often look around and realize that days and weeks have gone by without our ever feeling like we were present in our lives. As you take your practice off the mat and into your world this week, try to be mindful of the opportunities that the Universe offers you to BE here. When you’re walking somewhere, be aware of all the wondrous things that happen to keep you upright and moving forward. Really TALK. Really LISTEN. Be where you are.”
I woke everyone up and started rolling up my mat when Gail came to talk to me. She’s an accomplished practitioner and rarely comes to talk, so I was concerned that perhaps she’s acquired an injury or wanted to express a concern about something that happened in the class (why do we always go to the negative first?!). Instead, she wanted to tell me that the closing thoughts I shared with the class were exactly what she needed to hear. She told me that she’s dating again after more than a decade, and that she’s finding it difficult to let go and trust. “Being where I am – being mindful right now – is exactly what I need to do.” It brought goosebumps to my skin to hear her say that – and it’s bringing them up again now as I retell the story.
After Gail left, one of my brand-new folks came and introduced himself. HE had something to say, too, and he touched on something that I occasionally worry about as a yoga teacher. “I know that some people, especially people who come to your class all the time, might find it repetitive, but it was great that you kept telling us to only do what we could. I can’t do much, and the only reason I stayed for the whole class was because you told me that what I could do was good enough.”
More goosebumps. I love my job.
A Lesson in the Music
January 6, 2009 at 4:43 pm | In inspiration, learning and growing, meditations, observations, philosophy, practice off the mat, the Universe craves balance | Leave a CommentThe other day, I was driving home from a wonderful visit with a dear friend when the Universe offered up yet another gift to me.
I was listening, as is my wont, to NPR. On this day, All Things Considered was doing a focus piece on a musician by the name of Richard Crandell. Formerly an extremely gifted guitarist, Crandell suffers from essential tremor syndrome, which prevents him from playing his instrument with anything but a frustrating imprecision.
At one point several years ago, Crandell was asked to drive a tour bus for a group of African traditional musicians. When he returned with the bus, he found an mbira (pronounced em-beer-ah) under one of the seats. Sometimes called a “thumb piano,” the mbira is a sacred instrument of the Shona people of Zimbabwe. He started goofing around with it and, to his surprise, discovered that his hands didn’t shake when he played.
I was so struck by this story, and by the beautiful feel of the music that Crandell played (both with his guitar, from before his diagnosis, and his mbira today) that I opened iTunes as soon as I got in the house and bought everything they had of his work.
I started playing Spring Steel for my yoga classes this morning. Before we began, I told the two women who came to the session at Local U. Crandell’s story and asked them to keep in mind that, more often than not, the Universe holds a new door open as it simultaneously closes an old, comfortable one. Even though we may resist the “loss” of something we held dear and familiar, we need to remember to stay open to the possibility of new experiences, and to recognize that it is often in those spaces where we find growth.
I Am a “Mindful Yogini”
January 5, 2009 at 9:34 am | In little bits of nothingness | 1 Comment
You Are a Mindful Yogi!
You no doubt are very conscientious about your Yoga practice. You practice regularly and you want to make extra sure you are doing the poses correctly. You give a lot of thought to your practice – on ways you can improve it, on the philosophical aspect, on breathing and focus. You probably own a number of books on Yoga. Your assets are your detailed mind and your precision – you don’t miss a thing! You need to work on seeing the bigger picture – sometimes you can’t see the universe for the stars. The type of Yoga that would suit you best would most likely be Iyengar, or one of its offshoots, like Anusara.
Take the quiz here.
Glass (more than) Half Full
January 3, 2009 at 9:06 am | In The Eight Limbs, meditations, observations, philosophy, practice off the mat | 1 Comment“We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of our lives, not looking for flaws, but for potential.” –Ellen Goodman
I gave essentially this same message to my yoga class yesterday. We spend so much energy this time of year focusing on what we need to fix (I need to save more money, I’m too fat, I procrastinate too much…) when we should probably focus a bit on what WORKS (I’m healthy enough to come to yoga class, I have friends, I have wealth enough to be a member of a health club…). While it’s certainly important to seize opportunities for self-improvement, it’s more important, I think, to be mindful of what we have. An attitude of abundance really makes a difference in one’s quality of life.
Peeling Garlic
November 30, 2008 at 7:10 pm | In The Eight Limbs, inspiration, learning and growing, meditations, observations, philosophy, practice off the mat, the Universe craves balance | 3 CommentsI’ve been a little off my center lately. There are a lot of reasons for that, most prominent among them being an extended discussion / disagreement I had with someone I thought I knew better than it seems I do, the fact that the terms are ending at both TCC AND Local U., and, of course, the approach of the holidays. While I’m trying my best to keep everything in perspective, sometimes it’s harder than others to stop and recognize when one is spinning one’s wheels and focusing on stuff that, in the big picture, should probably not be given as much attention as we give it.
That being the case, I’ve been actively trying to divert my attention elsewhere. This afternoon, for example, I found myself with three heads of garlic that needed peeling and roasting. “Perfect!” I thought as I set out a roasting pan and dragged the trash can next to the counter for a solid half hour of mindfulness.
Thich Nhat Hanh, in his little book The Miracle of Mindfulness, talks about being present and focusing on the task at hand and about the wonder that can be found in simple acts like washing the dishes or eating a tangerine. Being aware of what we’re doing right here, right now brings us to a level of consciousness and purpose that most of us – at least, most of the people *I* know, myself included – don’t often experience. Speaking for myself, I find that entire days – weeks, even – can go by without my ever having been really aware of where I was or what I was doing. I, and I imagine that a lot of us, tend to be primarily reactive; we respond to the stimuli of our lives and most often think we’re lucky if we feel like we’re just keeping up.
It takes a lot of practice to be mindful and present more often than one is reactionary, but I’m starting to get the hang of it. While I certainly wouldn’t consider myself a master, I am starting to notice, more and more often, when an opportunity presents itself for me to stop and take stock. While I’m waiting at a red light, for instance, I can focus on my breath and my posture. I can really see the images outside my windshield and notice the vibration of the car’s motor and the feel of the wheel in my hands. When I’m brushing my teeth, or walking to class, or taking a shower, I try to remember to be present – to notice everything I can about what’s happening right here, right now – and to appreciate the fact that I’m right in the middle of it.
I’ve found that, along with being very calming and centering, the practice of mindfulness also brings with it a heightened appreciation for one’s surroundings and condition. I glory in the feel of warm water on my body in the shower. I’m grateful for the force of my muscles and the strength of my balance as I walk from one place to another. I can bring all my attention to the feel of papery garlic skins in my fingers, and relish the heady scent of the cloves as they undress
and, just for those few moments, I can be here and no where else, which is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
What’s Your Agenda?
November 14, 2008 at 9:13 pm | In The Eight Limbs, compassion and connection, inspiration, learning and growing, meditations, philosophy, practice off the mat, questions and conundrums | 2 CommentsIn addition to teaching yoga, I also teach college-level English. I’m writing here about both of them because, where this question is concerned, they intersect quite nicely.
I wrote here about a student who left a comment on an end-of-term survey at one of my jobs. The short version of the story is that the student felt that I used the class to forward an agenda, and that s/he felt that the class was less about the reading and more about my opinions.
I don’t think that the student was wrong, exactly, but I don’t think that s/he was right, either. It is not unreasonable for ANY teacher to be who s/he is in the classroom; teachers are not heartless computer programs – it’s never just about the material for the course. What makes teachers good – or not – is, I think, the level of themselves that they choose – or not – to share with their students. I said as much to my boss – you can read my full response here.
I’ve been thinking about this question as it pertains to my yoga instruction, as well. How much of my “agenda,” which can best be described as lefty-humanist, would I be appropriate in bringing into my classes? Was it okay for me to remind my students to vote on election day? Is it appropriate for me to remind my classes that there is much suffering in the world, and that each of us has the power, though our thoughts and words and deeds, to help ameliorate that? How far can I go in encouraging my participants to take love and kindness and compassion off the mat with them?
I am careful to leave faith out of my yoga classes. I ask students to play with their own energy, and I refer only to “the Universe” and never to “God.” I want, though, for the people who come to my yoga classes to leave with a feeling of connection to a higher power, and to feel as though they are a representative of that power in their world. I tell them that this habit we have of coming to class and unrolling a mat and twisting our bodies into funny shapes is only a tiny portion of a complete yoga practice. I remind them that yoga can work to help us locate and nurture our highest and best selves, and to use that to inform our choices in everyday life.
I can’t go into a classroom and leave myself at the door, and I don’t think that I should. Bringing myself – my passion and my energy and my love and my questions – makes me a better teacher…. and a better person. Isn’t it part of my responsibility as a teacher to model the lessons I’m seeking to teach to others?
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