Out the Window
No matter how much time I spend planning for my classes, something always happens that causes me to throw my plans out the window and start from scratch at the last minute. As my loyal readers know, last week I had planned on giving my students a nice, core awakening—my first time teaching in this way.
But a few minutes before class, a brand new student walked in. This was her very first yoga class—and likely her only class with me since she was visiting relatives. I wanted her to have the best first experience ever, so I decided not to experiment with something new. This way she could really get a good feel for what yoga is about, the inner work, quieting the mind. So we worked on finding a calm moment in every pose.
I explained this as simply as I could:
A while back I was running late for an appointment. I grabbed my keys, my cell phone, my purse—all the necessities—and started to run for the door, but I had a problem. It was a beautiful, sunny day but my sunglasses were nowhere to be found. I did exactly what I always do when I lose something. I checked all the usual hiding places—the kitchen table, counter tops, under the bed, in the closet, the bathroom vanity—desperate, I think I even looked in the refrigerator. I was going to be late. It was inevitable. I calmed myself down, took a deep breath, and re-focused. At that very moment I looked up, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My sunglasses were resting on my head the entire time.
Unfortunately, this how we often approach our yoga practice—especially when it's new to us. We're so desperate to bend further, reach higher, and work harder because we think it will help us achieve some greater goal. Panicked, we look to our yoga teachers, books and magazines, or even the person on the mat next to us to no avail. But the second we calm ourselves down and take a deep breath and pay attention, we realize that what we've been looking for has been with us all along. In fact, it's a part of us.
I've found the same is true for teaching. Over and over again, I'm trying to pass something meaningful on to my students, and I keep looking to outside sources for guidance. But, what I really need to teach comes to me in the moment.
Have any of you had a similar experience?
Comments
What an insightful post. I feel the same way - as often times in life we cast about or just don't feel adequate to 'the task', yet letting our true nature connect, through calm awareness, we can find that we have indeed all the task really requires. I often change my plans for teaching class and sense / channel from the group what is most appropriate. This works we fully trust and do not allow ourselves to react to any individual / become nervous or distracted!
Posted by: anjel nicholas | July 24, 2007 05:19 PM
What a great thing that you catered to this new student. I have been to yoga classes where the teacher showed very little concern for me as a new student, and I never went back to those studios. I'm sure your new student enjoyed the class thanks to your consideration, whether she realized you'd changed things up for her sake or not.
Posted by: dirt | July 25, 2007 03:50 PM
Yes,Erica, you are exactly right. This happens to me quite often. One day I was preparing to teach a class, my husband was out of town and my daughters sitter cancelled. I reluctantly took her to class with me, crayons and coloring book in hand. I was flustered and wondered how I was going to get through the next hour with a 3 year old in tow. Oddly enough, only one woman showed up for class, which had never happened before or since, and she had just run a marathon and was hoping for a restorative class. What luck, my little Athena sat on my lap while I led my student through a class tailor made for her.
Posted by: Michelle | July 27, 2007 03:02 AM