For the last couple of weeks I’ve been assisting one of my favorite teachers in San Francisco.

Janet Stone’s Friday night Mellow Flow classes are so welcoming and warming that I’ve never left one of them feeling anything but energized, encouraged, and just plain happy. I don’t know if it’s the loving tone of Janet’s voice, the dim, candle-lit atmosphere, or the positive energy of the students who are happy to be done with the work week and kicking off the weekend with yoga.

Whatever it is, I want more of it.

So when I got word that Janet was looking for an assistant, I jumped at the chance. The warm-fuzzy effect the class has on me when I’m a student translates beautifully into assisting.

Even so, the first time I approached the class of nearly 80 eager students, I felt the familiar twinge of butterflies begin to flutter in my stomach.

This class was not like the beginner-oriented classes I’d taught or assisted before. These were fully grown adults who pay $16 for an hour-and-a-half class on a regular basis. If I give one of these folks an incorrect adjustment, they have the potential to know it.

Luckily, most of my nervousness floated away as the beginning warm-up concluded and I began to watch bodies and offer my assistance. I could tell by the way the students were breathing that my touch was welcome—very welcome, in fact.

Working with warm and enthusiastic yoga students in a class this is a lot like playing with modeling clay—warm modeling clay that has been sitting in a hot car for a several hours. With just the gentlest touch, their bodies seemed to melt open and their breathing grew deeper.

The connection and exchange of energy with the students, however, began to make my job harder as the class went on.

Instead of looking at a person and seeing a body that could be more grounded or better aligned, I started thinking to myself: "That’s SO beautiful. How am I supposed to improve upon perfection?" I spent at least several minutes admiring poses and being that kind of loopy yoga teacher that says, "Beautiful!" all the time.

But then I remembered the advice Janet gave me before the class, "Just give them a loving touch, and go with your intuition." So that’s what I’ve been doing.

And it has come back to me four-fold—albeit sometimes more than I’d like. I’m still not sure how to keep from feeling a little uncomfortable when I’m giving someone a little Savasana adjustment and he or she groans out loud with delight. It still feels kind of creepy to me, and my first instinct is to pull my hands away and look around to see if anyone else noticed. I’m sure I’ll get more comfortable with experience.

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 12:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

I went to a John Prine concert a couple of nights ago and I can’t stop thinking about how one of his songs relates to yoga.

The song,"Dear Abby," is about all the ridiculous, trivial complaints we have about our lives. Anyway, it sums up two of the niyamas better than I ever could: samtosha, or contentment, and asteya, or truth. I’ve included an excerpt of the lyrics below:

"Dear Abby, Dear Abby . . .
My feet are too long
My hair’s falling out and my rights are all wrong
My friends they all tell me that I’ve no friends at all
Won’t you write me a letter, Won’t you give me a call
Signed Bewildered

"Bewildered, Bewildered...
You have no complaint
You are what your are and you ain’t what you ain’t
So listen up Buster, and listen up good
Stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood

"Dear Abby, Dear Abby . . .
My fountain pen leaks
My wife hollers at me and my kids are all freaks
Every side I get up on is the wrong side of bed
If it weren't so expensive I'd wish I were dead
Signed Unhappy

"Unhappy, Unhappy . . .
You have no complaint
You are what your are and you ain’t what you ain’t
So listen up Buster, and listen up good
Stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood"

It goes on from there, but you get the point.

I was so inspired I wrote my own yoga-related verse:

Dear Abby, Dear Abby . . .
My hamstrings are tight
When I bend forward, it’s a horrible sight
I hope no one saw my face turn all red
When I strained my neck trying to stand on my head
Signed Beginner

Since the concert, I’ve also been thinking about how teachers interact with their students. I wonder if it would ever serve a student for a teacher to be so blatantly honest. Sometimes it seems like teachers are so worried they’ll offend their students that they don’t point out when students are letting their ego put them in dangerous situations.

I’m not saying teachers ignore the potentially harmful actions completely. Perhaps, they try to gently suggest that a student use a block in Triangle Pose because each and every class the student wants so badly to touch the ground she rounds her torso instead of keeping it long and straight, compromising the integrity of the pose (and her spine). At what point should the teacher take the student aside and say, "Listen up, Buster."?

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 11:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

I was prepared for snickers. I was prepared for jokes. I was ready to make a fool of myself in front of 20 bright-eyed, bushy-tailed high school students.

I’ve spent lots of time learning how to modify for injuries and other physical limitations, but I was completely dumbfounded when one of the students blurted out, "I can’t do that! My jeans are too tight!" Not one of my students had come dressed for yoga.

I grimaced, but tried to reassure her. "Just do what you can."

Less than thirty seconds had passed before another student voiced her concern. "I’m not doing push-ups!"

That was just the beginning. Most of the students didn’t vocally refuse to do what I asked of them. They quietly rebelled by simply not taking their shoes off, not spreading out to give themselves room to move, and by making faces at each other when they thought I wasn’t looking.

It was clear most of these darling students weren’t there to learn yoga. They were there because it fulfilled a requirement for their after-school program—and they weren’t particularly thrilled about that.

We were off to a rocky start. I tried to calm them down with a seated meditation. Half of the class stared back at me like they thought I might be crazy. The other half were either bobbing their heads to music blaring through their headphones, sending text messages on their cell phones, or chatting excitedly with their peers. I heard my teacher's voice in my head, "If you try to teach quantum physics to a baboon, who’s the idiot?" That would be me.

Six months of yoga school and I had no idea what to do next. Obviously the class I had planned was not going to work out, so decided to just warm them up with some really simple, modified Sun Salutations. When I asked them to come to standing, most of them complied (success!), but I still had to raise my voice so that everyone could hear me over several noisy conversations.

I continued to demonstrate poses, trying to get them involved. "What do you think Downward-Facing Dog Pose would look like?" One of the boys lifted a leg over an invisible fire hydrant. Well, that’s just great.

I heard one of the students in class casually "whisper" something to one of this friends. "How much longer do we have in this class?"

I was discouraged. I considered cutting class short. But then I got an idea. Whenever I’m feeling out of balance—whether I’m nervous, stressed, overwhelmed, or excited—nothing brings me back to center faster than Viparita Karani (Legs-Up-the-Wall Pose). So I asked them to find a place at the wall.

I heard a few moans and groans, but I think they were relieved to get the opportunity to rest after a long, hard day of classes. After an amazingly brief period, everyone settled into the pose and, for the first time since I had walked into the room, it was completely quiet. I saw one of the staff members peek around the door to see what had happened. I grinned from ear-to-ear. They finally seemed to understand why someone would want to practice yoga.

Their calmness transitioned easily into Savasana (Corpse Pose), which gave me a minute to collect myself after a very hectic hour and a half. The experience was certainly not what I had expected, but I couldn’t wait to try it again. Next time, I think I’ll start with Viparita Karani.

Posted by Erica Rodefer at 11:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)