New Schedule
New Schedule Starting January 16, 2012
Stop to reflect - Photo by Eliot Zee
Being immersed in Bikram’s intensive nine-week teacher training program was… surreal.
I could use dozens of adjectives to try to describe the experience, but none would come close to representing all of what it was for me; “surreal” is the closest I can get. Throughout TT I kept feeling like I was going to wake up suddenly in my bed, drenched in sweat, screaming “Japanese ham sandwich!”, and dejectedly accept that it had all been one long, crazy, awesome dream. But that didn’t happen… I was certainly living in an alternate reality, but it was my current reality, all the same.
I landed in Vancouver late Sunday evening, totally exhausted but also very excited (equal, simultaneous, 50/50). My fur kids welcomed me home and didn’t even seem angry that I’d left them for two whole months. I slept in until almost noon the next day, but felt like I could have stayed in my amazingly comfortable bed all day; I had, in fact, been looking forward to reuniting with my bed more than anything else. I tried to go about my day like I normally would, but I had a hard time remembering exactly what that entailed. Without a rigid schedule to adhere to, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I ate lunch (which was my new “usual”: a Super Spinach Salad from Trader Joe’s) on my living room floor. I realized I needed to go out for groceries, and my next thought was, “Who will come with me?” I kept feeling like I was skipping class or lecture, waiting for someone to tell me I was on the dreaded Team Saturday (the name our TT staff gave to the group that had to attend Saturday’s make-up class). I felt a bit like a freshly released prisoner, struggling to readjust to real life, life outside the yoga bubble.
I taught my very first class the next evening at BYCD. I was a bit nervous, but I felt more excited than anything else. It was a small class, and I knew a few of the students (special shout-out to Dave for coming specifically to take my first class – thanks, Dave!). I tried to make them do three sets of half moon (they didn’t like that), which was not the greatest way to start. It gave me a feeling of, “Oh no, wtf is going to happen over the next 80 minutes?!” But things got better and I really started to love the feeling of guiding a group of people through the same movements at the same time, all of them benefiting physically, biochemically, emotionally, and spiritually, and my getting to be a part of their own personal journeys, even if only for 90 minutes. Or in this case, 100 minutes, which I was actually thrilled about, considering I had been around 20 minutes over every time I’d practiced prior to that. Standing in that room as a teacher felt both foreign and familiar; I felt unsure of myself — how I’d be received and whether I’d be able to lead my students through an entire class without any major disasters — but I also felt like I’d finally come home to the place I’d wanted to be for years: right there in that hot room on Commercial Drive, teaching a Bikram yoga class. I made some minor mistakes and often caught myself thinking, “What just came out of my mouth?” And, “Why can’t I shut up?!” But that’s very normal, as Bikram would say. Just trust the process. I can’t believe this is actually my job now! I never thought I’d be able to make money doing something I totally love. And although you don’t make a lot of money as a yoga teacher, I know, without a doubt, that my life is about to become much richer.
I took the next class, which the lovely Sonia taught, and it felt really good to be home, practicing in my home studio. But it also felt very small, and although the room was relatively full, I felt like I had TONS of space around me. It was strange and unfamiliar to practice in that way, and I began to miss having 400 other people around all the time. It made me realize how much my time at teacher training had impacted me, and how much we, as human beings, adapt to — and ultimately become attached to — our routines and environments. And the end of class, right after the second set of Kapalbhati breathing, I very nearly started clapping, as was normal protocol when every class at TT finished.
That night, I felt like I’d accomplished something pretty major; something to write home about; something to be proud of. But I also felt completely drained and like my head was about to explode. I was getting sick. I barely slept through the night and was a full-blown sickie by the time morning rolled around. In the days that followed, I had to have two classes (which were to be my second and third classes!) and two front desk shifts covered. I was totally bummed and felt like I had received a golden ticket, only to have it snatched away from me the moment it was placed in my hands-palm. I’m still fighting with whatever nasty bug has waged war on my immune system, but I also have a feeling that this is my body’s way of forcing me to take a break; teacher training was intense, and I went through a lot of major changes during my time there. Sometimes the body just needs to stop, be still, relax and rejuvenate (which is what savasana does for us in our practice), and as much as being sick now — at this very important time in my life — is really raining on my parade, I’ve got to listen to my body. I’ll just have to put my big teaching debut on hold, spend more time in bed reflecting on my recent experiences and studying my dialogue, and come back to the yoga world with a bang, not a fizzle, when I’m a fully (or almost fully) functioning human again.
Bikram always asks, “Can you believe it?!” My answer now: Yes, and no… (Wait, what are we talking about?!)
(Another side-effect of teacher training they don’t tell you about: you start speaking in Bikramisms and using TT inside jokes all the time, and it doesn’t stop when you get home, as is evident from the above. “Ask me why.” :)
I love my arms.
I used to think they were too small. And then too fat. Also, too weak; not muscular enough. I thought I’d like to have arms like Jessica Biel, or maybe Kelly Ripa, or Madonna…and then, “Oh dear lord, not Madonna. Those arms are totally frightening.” I wondered how many bicep curls it would take to get to the point of loving them. And then when I thought I didn’t have nearly enough time or energy for that, how many would it take before I’d just like them a little bit?
But now, I realize how truly magnificent they are: in the morning, they push me out of bed and pull on my clothes; they provide the strength to open the jar of peanut butter, and then spread it on my toast, which will give me energy for the first part of the day; and they hug my fluffy kitties and keep my dog close to me on her leash. In the afternoon, they enable me to write down my thoughts so they don’t take up too much space in my head; they embrace my friends and family with I-love-you-and-I’m-so-lucky-to-have-you-in-my-life hugs; they enable me to clean and beautify myself, so as to not terrify said friends and family; and they hold up the book that will transport me to another reality for a short while. In yoga, they lift me up to the ceiling to remind me of my strength and courage; they stretch out like wings and allow me to fly; they keep me balanced and are always there to catch me if I fall; they help me to bend my spine and open my chest to welcome more love into my heart; and they squeeze my legs tight for a loving full-body hug.
I also love my legs.
I always thought they were too short, too fat, disproportionate, and had too much cellulite. I wanted legs like a model, or like my best friend, Ashlee: long and lean, slight and feminine, with just the right amount of muscle in all the right places. I tried running, pilates, squatting and lunging across my living while watching America’s Next Top Model (which only made me hate my stubby legs more), but I was never satisfied, because even if I noticed slight improvements in the shape or tone of my legs, they were still too short, too fat, disproportionate, had too much cellulite…
But now, I give thanks to them, every single day. They get me to where I need to go, no questions asked; they allow me to run around and wrestle with my playful puppy; they gave me 10 years of soccer, which helped me to understand and appreciate myself in so many different ways; they propel me through the water, whenever I’m so inclined to swim; they provide a solid foundation to keep me grounded and uplifted, all at once. In yoga, they kick up to the ceiling, contorting my body into an elegant dancer’s pose; they provide the strength to realign all the joints that had already started to give me grief, even in my first quarter-century of life; they put pressure on my abdomen to regulate my moody and sensitive digestive system; and on those really, really tough days when my lunch refuses to stay down or my bladder is about to burst, they get me the hell out of the hot room, fast.
And so it goes: I thought my butt was too big; now, I appreciate the cushioning it provides for long lectures, or lengthy commutes, and I like the way it fills out my jeans. My stomach was too flabby, not defined enough, I wished it looked like Megan Fox’s; now, it seems perfectly normal and wonderfully fine, even when it’s housing a food baby.
It’s so easy to compare ourselves to others and covet what we don’t have, and it’s natural to lose sight of how incredibly fortunate we are to have fully functioning and uniquely beautiful body parts. But it’s so important to remind ourselves that as long as we’re putting the love and respect that we require and deserve into our bodies, we’re just right, and immensely beautiful, exactly the way we are.
Give love to yourself and all of your parts, every single day.
Photo from Mary's blog:http://amerrylife.com