The first thing for a teacher to remember is that all the students who stand in her presence are as important as herself. A yoga teacher must remember that every student before her is the beloved. Whether we are teaching to one student or 100, we must practice the concept of Attiti. Attiti means, "That which is before you is divine."
As yoga teachers, we must practice yoga ourselves. We must learn that we are also the divine. Divine in each pose, in each breath, in each movement, and in each moment. A yoga teacher should be confident, clear, calm, clever, courageous, challenging, caring, considerate, cheerful, critical and committed. These are just a few qualities that come to mind. A yoga teacher must always be learning and have the humilty to acknowledge this.
On Monday, I taught a yoga class where only one student showed up. For me to sit up in front of this student and not appear to be dissapointed with the exceedingly low class turn out was impossible. I am painfully aware that I wear my emotions openly and I vaccilate between the need to keep my own frustrations and dissapointments hidden and the need for speaking the obvious and acknowledging what is truthful even if it is not ideal. The student who did come to my class on Monday is a very wise and sensitive student dedicated to her own yoga practice. To not aknowledge my truth in that moment felt false so I chose to acknowledge the lack of students, not make a big deal out of it, but name the elephant and move on.
In my centering that morning, I privately expressed gratitude for the one student who was there. One student or 100 students, it should not change my intention for teaching. I then did what I always do when I begin a class. I take a moment to center with my student(s) and privately set my intention for my teaching to be as pure as possible, to be exactly what my student (s) need, to teach from my best self, to let my pride, ignorance, and attatchment to self go. Still, even with the intention said and done, I felt a spark of attatchment, the voice of inadequacy, the tight fisted grip of suffering.
When I left the Samadhi Storrs Studio,that morning, I felt stuck. As I transitioned from the warm, dark and cozy studio out into the jewel bright sunshine of the day, I was struck by my unhappiness. My need for others to complete my identity. My need to control the events of the day, believing that the amount of students in my class plays back to me that I am worthy. I am significant. The need for others to validate my worth is an old tape that only leads to my own suffering and the need to cling for more control.
Today is Wednesday and I have had two days to process my Monday morning class. I have paid attention to other situations this week where I have needed validation through recognition from others and I have to admit, it is real and it is ugly. I like to think that this ugly is what my wise sage 11 year old daughter Emily would call, "ugly-beautiful." This is a jumping-off point for me to learn more about myself, for me to dive deeply into my darker places and emerge new. Earlier this week I wrote that where I am in any given moment is exactly where I am supposed to be.
Teaching to one student on Monday morning was exactly where I was supposed to be. Not as a wake-up call to examine my marketing and business skills, but as a wake-up call to examine my own happiness and the "old" patterns of sufferings that I continue to create. Acknowledging this need for external validation as a path I don't want to walk down anymore is the beginning of healing and change.
It is lessons like this that remind me that I am a child. We are all children, even the wisest of us. We are all five year olds learning how to do this precious thing called life. From my yoga practice, I am learning to laugh at my thoughts that keep me living so small. My yoga practice guides me to live in the unknown, hopefully leaving my need for control in the dust.
Today my walk away from teaching a class is much different step than the heavy steps I took on Monday. Today I notice life entering me as I walk away. Life continues to flow into me. Every step is where I am, even though it appears that I'm moving. How wonderful not to need the world, not to go out toward it, but to allow it to meet and enter me. I find that there's room in me for everything, everyone, every situation, every flavor of being. I love the openness that I am.
As yoga teachers, we must practice yoga ourselves. We must learn that we are also the divine. Divine in each pose, in each breath, in each movement, and in each moment. A yoga teacher should be confident, clear, calm, clever, courageous, challenging, caring, considerate, cheerful, critical and committed. These are just a few qualities that come to mind. A yoga teacher must always be learning and have the humilty to acknowledge this.
On Monday, I taught a yoga class where only one student showed up. For me to sit up in front of this student and not appear to be dissapointed with the exceedingly low class turn out was impossible. I am painfully aware that I wear my emotions openly and I vaccilate between the need to keep my own frustrations and dissapointments hidden and the need for speaking the obvious and acknowledging what is truthful even if it is not ideal. The student who did come to my class on Monday is a very wise and sensitive student dedicated to her own yoga practice. To not aknowledge my truth in that moment felt false so I chose to acknowledge the lack of students, not make a big deal out of it, but name the elephant and move on.
In my centering that morning, I privately expressed gratitude for the one student who was there. One student or 100 students, it should not change my intention for teaching. I then did what I always do when I begin a class. I take a moment to center with my student(s) and privately set my intention for my teaching to be as pure as possible, to be exactly what my student (s) need, to teach from my best self, to let my pride, ignorance, and attatchment to self go. Still, even with the intention said and done, I felt a spark of attatchment, the voice of inadequacy, the tight fisted grip of suffering.
When I left the Samadhi Storrs Studio,that morning, I felt stuck. As I transitioned from the warm, dark and cozy studio out into the jewel bright sunshine of the day, I was struck by my unhappiness. My need for others to complete my identity. My need to control the events of the day, believing that the amount of students in my class plays back to me that I am worthy. I am significant. The need for others to validate my worth is an old tape that only leads to my own suffering and the need to cling for more control.
Today is Wednesday and I have had two days to process my Monday morning class. I have paid attention to other situations this week where I have needed validation through recognition from others and I have to admit, it is real and it is ugly. I like to think that this ugly is what my wise sage 11 year old daughter Emily would call, "ugly-beautiful." This is a jumping-off point for me to learn more about myself, for me to dive deeply into my darker places and emerge new. Earlier this week I wrote that where I am in any given moment is exactly where I am supposed to be.
Teaching to one student on Monday morning was exactly where I was supposed to be. Not as a wake-up call to examine my marketing and business skills, but as a wake-up call to examine my own happiness and the "old" patterns of sufferings that I continue to create. Acknowledging this need for external validation as a path I don't want to walk down anymore is the beginning of healing and change.
It is lessons like this that remind me that I am a child. We are all children, even the wisest of us. We are all five year olds learning how to do this precious thing called life. From my yoga practice, I am learning to laugh at my thoughts that keep me living so small. My yoga practice guides me to live in the unknown, hopefully leaving my need for control in the dust.
Today my walk away from teaching a class is much different step than the heavy steps I took on Monday. Today I notice life entering me as I walk away. Life continues to flow into me. Every step is where I am, even though it appears that I'm moving. How wonderful not to need the world, not to go out toward it, but to allow it to meet and enter me. I find that there's room in me for everything, everyone, every situation, every flavor of being. I love the openness that I am.
2 comments:
Anne,
As always you continue to inspire me with your honesty and openness of your own journey. Reading your blog moves me much in the way that a Mary Oliver poem does.
Peace,
Anne,
As I read your blog I find that I myself have been in the same space when only one student shows up. But when that happens I say to myself, "You know what they showed up ( and god only knows they could have the same crazy life)that I need to show up as well. As my 11 year old daughter say "Shall you be the spark that sets the world on fire, even if it takes one ember at a time."
Your are an awesome teacher,
A
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