Heart Full

A couple days ago I wrote about the Shala calling its classes good but “not that challenging”. That may have been a pre-mature assessment given I hadn’t had Kelly Morris’ class. Apparently her classes were so good, she could summon the winds of changed opinions with one namaste. True story.

Forces conspired against me to make it to her class, between last minute changes at work and subway delays I knew I was going to just make it. My heart sank as I saw the line to get in was creeping down the stairs and I was the last one on it. A few more trickled in after, but that was of little comfort as seemingly everyone in line behind me had a friend who was already signed (or in line ahead of me). They silently slinked up the line ahead of me (though we all knew they just arrived), and whispered to their friend, who made room for them. Others circumvented us in more indirect methods, they got their already signed in friends to “put down” a mat for them, or sometimes the friends themselves offered to find them a spot and they accepted. I wondered what had happened to their basic manners, a line is there for a reason and you can choose to disrespect those reasons, but don’t pretend like it’s OK just because your friend says so.

By the time I did manage to get into class it was all I could think about. Yogis who noisily leave during svasana, who leave their cell phones on during svasana, who drip sweat onto your mat (when they could just re-angle themselves) because they just need the to get into Astavrakasana at that moment. The noise in my mind escalated to a deafening crescendo. And then she spoke. She commanded silence, and without resistance we gave it.
(more…)

So now it’s over. I have a couple loose ends left, some observations to submit, re-take the test in case I bombed it, but I think I’ll be OK. I know it sounds so rehearsed, and by now I’ve said this phrase so many times in my own life, but really ” I can hardly believe it’s all over”. After anxiety ridden weeks of anticipating my class, imagining every which way it could go wrong, it’s over, and it went well. People seemed to respond to my guidance, and assists. My aunt was (as always) fantastic. She did so well, even moving into Urdhva Dhanurasana on her own. I was deee-lighted. And the girls, the girls I’ve shared the last thirteen weeks with were extraordinary.

Every weekend, not only was I learning something new about yoga, but something new about life from each of the girls in class. And they all, until the very end continued to suprise me with their wisdom, and grace. For example, my last class. I assumed this class would be gentle and meditative, because the teacher-trainee is gentle and thoughtful. After a challenging morning my body ached for a restorative. Instead, I found myself shamelessly sweating and collapsing into child’s pose, somehow manging to resist the draw of the DIY svasana. I could not WAIT for the margarita. Yet even if my body was done, I was so happy and proud of her, and of the class she presented. I liked that it was invigorating, challenging, and yet retained its’ Rose-ness. The other classes I participated in were all uniquely memorable. Probably because each of the girls who presented it is special.

These last three months I felt like I had gone back to highschool, where all of my friends were girls, and we didn’t really have to deal with the complication of boys. Already I miss my weekends with them, and the liveliness thier personalities. And even if we didn’t hang out much during our teacher training, I have a feeling we’ll see each other again outside of the studio if only to:

• Marvel at the length of War and Peace, in Spanish – courtesy of Padmasana’s weekend reading
• Do our first Kaya Yoga cross word puzzle – courtesy of Pincha Mayurasana’s bedside reading.
• Figure out how to start my own small business and survive – courtesy of Ganesh
• Get in the best shape of my life – courtesy of virasana.
• Finally learn how to actually pronounce all the anatomical terms- courtesy of Urdhva Vrkaskana
• Be prepared for any eventuality that may occur in my class, including how to say eka pada rajakapotasana
• Watch bakasana turn into a scorpion, because this is as close as I’ll ever get to actually doing one myself
• Admire hanumanasa’s smile, because everyone else is, except maybe herself.

I can’t recommend my experience enough, or the women who shared it with me. I’m already planning on a reunion.

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.

In yoga we are encouraged to investigate our world, to determine for ourselves if what we see and experience is satya (truth). In Patajali’s Yoga sutras he writes,” although destroyed for him who has attained liberation, it (the seen) still exists for others…” The heart of this sutra, Satchidananda reveals, is maya, the vedantic term for nature, illusion. But it is only illusion to those who have been liberated from it, the rest of us, are still experiencing a world heavily cloaked in illusion. Taking these lessons to heart, I’ve been trying to apply truthfulness in my life. I’ve been reevaluating my priorities, and I believed I was making painful progress towards the long road to enlightenment.

I found myself speaking calmly to friends and family about how change is natural, and that it was only our perceptions that was causing pain. The universe, I wisely observed, doesn’t bring good or bad, it’s our “maya” that brings these perceptions. I was sounding like a yogi, maybe I actually was the calm center of the life-storm. That calm center, half rolled, half fell out of bed on the fresh Sunday morning of March 9th, 2008. As usual, I was already running a few minutes late, I figured if I brushed my hair, teeth, and showered all at the same time, I should just make it “under the gun” as my teacher teases. I was ready in record time, my heart palpitating, my breath short and shallow, my mind focussed on the goal of making it to 86th and York in 15 minutes.

I stumbled through the door of New York Yoga. On the wall, I noticed the clock read, 8:17am, I had 3 more minutes before class, score! I scribbled my name and told the receptionist I was practicing. I don’t want to imagine what she thought I was practing, it wasn’t my breathing (pranayama). My clothes flew off me in the locker room. When I reached the studio door, I purposefully pushed through. I was surprised that the class was starting off in the dark, and the students were against the walls, in a kind of restorative pose. There was a palpable feeling of relaxation in the room, as if people were winding down. With as little disruptive noise as possible, I rolled out my mat. I was still catching my breath, and so proud of myself for having made it to class ON TIME, maybe even one minute to spare. My teacher was leading them through another restorative pose, and I tried to calm my mind, breathe into it, and let go. I was here now, and now I could begin yoga, “atha yoganusasanam“.

My teacher walked quietly over to me, smiling. I smiled back, still feeling proud that I managed not to be late. “Did you forget about day light savings time?” she asked. The maya in my mind swirled. How could this be? My whole carefully configured world, set to atomic time, experienced a massive failure. And all the signs were there. The dark room, the quiet relaxed atmosphere, the surprise I felt when I saw (just) one of the many clocks in my apartment showing AN HOUR LATE. All dismissed, because I believed so thoroughly in my maya. I looked through embarrassed eyes around the room, everyone was relaxing, only Alex, pixie Alex looked at me and smiled sympathetically. Opting not to do the Scooby-Doo tiptoe out the door, K put a comforting hand on my shoulder, “don’t worry, you can stay and take or assist the next class.” My cheeks blushed so deeply, I think they actually swelled, thankfully I’ve met real people, and made real friends in yoga, at least that’s not maya.