Heart Full

I had my “Dress Rehearsal” class this past Tuesday. I reserved the smaller studio at New York Yoga, which we’re allowed to do for free during teacher training. At this point, I’m more comfortable in this studio than the larger. I’ve spent just about every weekend in it since January 5th, and I’m already feeling some separation anxiety just thinking about having to “give it up” after the program. I guess, I feel it’s special because it’s where I exercised my commitment, my second discovery of yoga, and on March 25th where I first shared it with my most important friend and family.

I had spent the night before re-reading my notes, assembling my play list, going through all of the sequences in my head, and on the cleared area of our living room floor. The whole time, wondering why I was so nervous, or worried that I wouldn’t get the class “right”. They wouldn’t know anyways. But I would know, and I worried that if i didn’t get it exactly right, i could very well ruin their experience of yoga FOREVER. Josh would see that despite my time and effort in it, I actually sucked eggs as a teacher, and my aunt who had previously practiced Koundalini a more Bhakti (devotional) variation of yoga, would realize that my version was inadequate. And yet, my desire to share yoga with friends and family, them specifically is what propelled me to sign up for the teacher training program. I recalled seeing my aunt strapped in her back brace, because she suffered severe back pain, the all too familiar kind generated after hours of hunching over the computer. And even if she happily explained that the brace was OK, and it helped her, I always felt a mild sense of panic when she wore it. Then there was Josh, dear sweet Josh with his concave stance, no matter how many “micro-adjustments” I made, he never stood straight and after awhile, it occurred to me that he might not know how. I thought that if I could make yoga accessible to both of them then maybe my aunt wouldn’t have to wear the brace, and Josh could learn how to be confident in his posture and stand straighter. So by the time March 25th rolled around, I had built up this mountain of expectation for myself, to the point that if I failed to “fix” them, then it was tantamount to the complete failure of my entire yogic career.

They arrived early, and excited to take my class. My aunt ooohed and ahhed at general yoga paraphernalia in the boutique. Josh was sitting on the bench outside of the small studio, reading a book (of course), and smiled that smile, that makes everything bright. I fumbled around with my set up, inwardly wishing I had just SOME of Alex’s (a co-teacher trainee) preparation skills. Through the rattling noise of stress in my head, I heard their cheerful chatter in the background, and it gave me the reassurance I needed to temper my anxiety. In the half minute I used to gather my thoughts, props, and playlist, I realized that they came all this way not for yoga, but for me, so to them this was already enough. And as I took my first authentically comfortable seat that week, and breathed, I knew that at least for tonight the healing power wasn’t coming from yoga, but a far more potent mixture of friends and family.