eyesbreathbody

[eyesbreathbody]

Reflections

It's been almost nine weeks since graduation. I remember that day vividly. Tresses teased to accommodate tiaras sparkling with achievement. We are all shining and glorious, certificate delicately poised between two fingers as we pose for the final picture. We all say tearful goodbyes as we re-emerge back into society. I am changed. Hyper-aware but focused, no longer distracted but only wishing for the next time I can chase the yoga bubble. Safe, secure, heart chakra open.

Where my body and practice may have paled compared to others, I find myself underdressed among those in the Windy City. Midriffs often covered by not one but two layers. I sweat even more as I watch a woman practice wearing a long sleeved fleece. I have crept into the world of compromise yoga.

Tickets bought, promises made, I slowly make my way back to the yoga bubble again. Reunions make for such sweet beginnings. In Boston, Michigan, and Vienna I find shining faces I know. Pure love. I can't explain it. It sounds weird. This feeling to reunite with others again can't be explained to others who have never experienced joy and tears and pain and anger and sorrow and diarrhea with a bunch of people for nine weeks in one place.

It sticks with you. I know now, anywhere I go, I just need to let someone know I'm here. Amazing.

[eyesbreathbody]

We did it, we did it, we did it!

[eyesbreathbody]

Last days

Like any group experiment, the honeymoon and cooperation phases wane to give way to breakdown and intolerance. As we approach the last days of training, impatience arises. People can’t wait to get out fast enough. I am confused by this feeling, I don’t know where to put it. The walls quickly come up after having had weeks of open friendliness. I become cautious.

Last minute sales cause clamor over purchases made in desperation to buy gifts, memorabilia, anything to hold onto. This could have been me but other priorities hold me back.

My body feels like a car left out to rust. Body parts function in protest as I try to do postures that were so easy for me to do the week before. The body is telling me it is time for a rest. Eleven classes a week at more than 90 classes in nine weeks, my back and knees are giving up. I’m clinging to the promise of just a few more days. A mere four classes and I am done.

Certificate in hand.

[eyesbreathbody]

Look at that!!!

In a room of sixty-six students, all is noticeable. After only a few days one easily knows who has the best postures. My body betrays me as my knee remains to be locked, struggling to maintain balance in standing head to knee pose. My whole practice becomes questionable.

But sometimes there are little surprises. I don’t know what catches his eye, but in the middle of Standing Separate Leg Stretching pose, I am asked to demonstrate. In the middle of recertification week, over a hundred and twenty strong. At first, I am unsure who is Miss Blue and Black. I point to myself as if to ensure he didn’t pick someone else behind me, evident I am the only one dressed in those colors.

I listen carefully as I fall into position and I pull my heels with all my might. I smile while upside down in case a photo is taken, hoping my stomach is sucked in from the side. I remain in position as if my life depended on it, deaf to the accolades. The sound of applause roaring in my ears.

For once, I emerge victorious.

[eyesbreathbody]

La Isla turtles

[eyesbreathbody]

The swarm. Week eight.

Week eight marks recertification week, where teachers of all walks of life come to have their skills renewed. Now it’s our turn to take a backseat in the yoga room. We are a small group. An additional fifty bodies instantly doubles the pool of folk.

But everything changes. Longer waits in line for food, entry and exit. Water runs out. Prime real estate space in the lecture hall and yoga room quickly taken. We are overwhelmed. Humidity doubles and so does our water intake. We are no longer secure in the yoga room expecting to recognize every face we see. Sometimes shoved aside as if to pay our dues. The lowest on the totem pole. But shouldn’t innocence be cherished? Figurative pats on the head for only being enlightened when one begins to teach.

My notes no longer legible as I struggle to sort fable from reality. I draw instead, hoping slivers of truth emerge from each parable. I drift in and out of sleep as my hand continuously draws each line like a carpet weaver reveals a multi-textured story from thousands of knots.

In a couple of years we will be joining the ranks perhaps more enlightened than we started. In the meantime, we breathe a sigh of relief as the swarm of teachers dissipates as quickly as they have arrived.

[eyesbreathbody]

Intense events and conversation

[eyesbreathbody]

One is silver and the other gold

Two more weeks until the end. Perhaps reflected in post training anxiety about the future, tempers flare. Tolerance expired. What was understood about each other forgotten, retracted into zones of comfort. I test this by reaching out to people I normally don't talk to everyday. I notice the struggle to maintain polite conversation. Lifelong friendships already established, our dance cards are filled. Promises to reunite in the future, where we don't even know where we will be in a year. Bonds will be tested when we step back into our respective places. What happens when strangers share such collective intense experiences? I witness this in my own children after two weeks of summer camp. Their friendship circles widen, follows on Instagram increases, only a code word needed to bring a flood of understanding. The ultimate contact reached when one receives a message that a flight ticket has been purchased. Eventually or in the future.

[eyesbreathbody]

Habits. Week seven.

This week, in another unprecedented opportunity, we moved house to stay in a sister hotel. All packed up for a little adventure. It was only one small week. It could have been inconvenient given our heavy diet of heat, yoga, dialogue and late nights. But all the same, forced one to reassess what one really needs for a few days.

I packed light in one backpack, learning the meaning of one piece.

Habits altered, pre-practice mango and tea no longer necessary, morning yoga cancelled and daily study spots vary. The dip in the pool shifts to pre-dinner lounge. We learn the meaning of close quarters. There is no wasted space, no privacy in modern design. I feel sleepier without the morning yoga. Perhaps there is truth to enhanced brain oxygenation, despite the physical ailments.

Posture clinic finished, we begin to string along dialogue, of which I have yet to try given my lack of memory. Does the process really work? The habit of studying still a lifelong journey.

The week’s end marks the full moon. There is still need to let go of the goblins that haunt us. It is fitting to close the week with Menali’s meditative chant to ease and reflect on ancient wisdom. Perhaps the start of a new habit.

[eyesbreathbody]

Working the light

As an extro-introvert, I enjoy being around people, but recharge myself through reflection. I’m the one in the kitchen during a party, or the one watching from the sidelines. Unless I’m dancing. Get me on a stage, saying my own words, I do not flounder. I can even be funny. Except in posture clinic. As if I have two personalities. How can it be so Jekyl-Hydian?

A visiting teacher said to us that there will be a number of us who will teach only a couple of years, while others, a lifetime. Perhaps this is an expected and obvious truth. I’d like to think that with opportunity presenting itself, I will fall in the latter. Here at teacher training, I don’t need to scramble to be noticed. I don’t need to be the loudest voice in the room, the best at posture or resort to self deprecation to receive praise. But I soldier on. There should be equal praise for the tenacious, not for just the shiny.

What I do best, is listen. And if I can be there for you, so be it. Don’t worry, while you’re talking, I’m putting the pieces together, creating a great jigsaw puzzle of life, marveling in the intentional and the coincidental. The world is always smaller than it is.

At the same time I build you up, give you a new platform to stand on. And turn you out ready to face the day. The divine in me honors the divine in you. That light that shines combined will create an inferno of possibility. And that I see in you.

Namaste.

[eyesbreathbody]

The body bionic. Week six

A new month turned towards the end of the week. As my wise woman friend, Heather, told me, Gemini will provide the gift of voice. But, also be mindful of what we say. This is true. Tired both mentally and physically, emotions are high. Dual language interpretations, no matter how well intentioned, are misinterpreted. I love that at least a third or more of our trainees speak Spanish, but by week six, we seek comfort in the familiar. What I say as well meaning during posture clinic starts a flurry of tears. Not my intention. A chain reaction.

My high during Full Locust followed by lukewarm dashes to seek the same dynamic delivery.

Surprise after surprise brings even more feelings of anxiety. Lecture replaced by one big posture clinic, microphone intact. Demo bodies picked. Mine excluded. An unprecedented field trip announced, meaning an all up switch in lodgings. And finally, a party to end the week, another first, guacamole as promised. The best in the world.

The end of the week reliably capped by morning yoga. Menali celebrates a birthday, prompting more dancing. After a night of dancing, my body not as bad as feared. My back feels like steel. Assurances that the pain is not permanent, we are in a state of rebuilding. Indeed, we are not the same today as we were six weeks ago. My cobra is higher, my full locust soars, and my bow is stronger. Do I feel alive?

The answer is an astounding yes.

[eyesbreathbody]

End of week six

[eyesbreathbody]

Littermates. Week five.

Since the second week of teacher training, we have been divided up in groups, alphabetically. I’ve never been so glad to be at the end of the alphabet. We are a bunch of gentle folk, always eager to lend a helping hand. We come from different walks of life, carrying scars that make you weep. In my group, we have battled cancer, addiction, divorce, shame, guilt, hopelessness, loneliness, disgust and despair. My kind of people. The closeness and euphoria described of these groups have been compared to that of a litter of puppies.

Teri Almquist, the PC whisperer, comes to tame the wild horses that run away with our self confidence in a week when we are bone tired, wrung out and strung out on electrolytes and fear.

She prescribes from a source of love. Every word rings with truth that reverberates in my soul. Like a religious zealot, I weep with every word she speaks because she speaks the truth from a place of love. I needed this. To be told that I can be gentle to myself and it’s okay. To be told that we don’t need to strive towards perfection and it’s okay. To be told that we have the rest of our lives to study that dialogue. And it’s okay.

Just as I have relied on the support of my littermates, I know that I can turn to this teacher to nourish my soul. How refreshing to know that it’s not necessary to stay up to the wee hours of the morning, memorizing every ‘and’ and ‘the’ and that the syntax of the sentence does not need to be conquered but our fears and shame? What kind of a teacher do we want to be, one that gives perfect dialogue, or one that sees students with compassion?

As I have provided my littermates with like compassion, so will I go out into the world more determined to do the same.

[eyesbreathbody]

More and more and more and more. Week four.

Time passes all the same, but this week felt extra long. Adrenaline running high, lack of sleep and emotional breakdowns mark the end of this week.

Anatomy class grinds to a slow halt, a topic I know well like the back of my hand. A short-lived comfort.

Posture clinic steps up the pace, group dynamics ever changing. I’m learning my adrenaline filled body doesn’t serve me, second tries always deliver the dialogue as intended. We’ve been witness to emotional breakdowns and testimonials, my own filled the room with laughter and tears. No one can believe the trial I have been through to get here, yet we are in awe of one story to the next. We all have our baggage to bring.

The playing field is level now.

[eyesbreathbody]

El Walmart

This training is a closed campus, meaning we are not allowed to leave the resort property, even during time off. It doesn’t bother me. One can easily be taken advantage of in a state of yoga euphoria. Try going grocery shopping after yoga class. I can’t tell you how many times I just stare at the shelves, wondering how I got there.

Saturday afternoon marks Walmart Day. When I lived in the U.S., I wouldn’t even think about breathing in a Walmart let alone shop there. Yes, call me a snob. My friends promoting sustainability are squirming in their seats.

We arrive by shuttle and race around with lists of items we think we can’t live without to last the week: liters of water, honey, bananas, limes, mangoes. Scurrying around for coconut water with big shopping carts, hoping someone hasn’t bought the whole lot.

C: Have you found any nuts? Me: Try that aisle over there? Me: Have you seen any peanut butter? E: Try aisle four.

Hopes of finding organic, without sugar or if not, the real thing.

Purchases successful, we stand outside with carts full of goodies, waiting for the next shuttle. This time I come back with two pairs of flip flops, one silver and one gold. A gal needs a bit of bling if she can’t wear jewelry to practice.

Walmart. Yes, Walmart.

[eyesbreathbody]

A new decade

On Monday I celebrated my birthday. How many people can say they had their birthday while training to be a yoga teacher? We’ve recognized three so far, at least those we know.

My birthday also coincides with Mexican Teacher’s Day, so there is double extra to celebrate. I still consider myself a teacher even though I’ve lost my job.

The serenade in the yoga room is deafening. All eyes on me. I am given little gifts: homemade kombucha, goodie bag, jewelry, even a yoga outfit. All with sweet intentions and numerous returns of the day.

The greatest gift has been training with my dialogue practice group and training with these strangers. Every day a privilege.

Who knows what this new decade will bring? Only that I live it to its full potential. Every passing year victorious.

[eyesbreathbody]

The eagle has landed. Week three.

The honeymoon is definitely over. Mostly recovered from gastric upsets and settling in, we start anatomy classes and posture clinic.

Anatomy brings me back to territory I know. My note taking method never failing, mine are filled with diagrams, already with promises to help others pass. This is anatomy light.

Posture clinic on the other hand, is a different animal. Reassurances that only familiarity with dialogue is needed, many of my peers seem to be killing it, as if auditioning for an acting part. I study my lines judiciously, hoping lines will stick. If only I can channel my energy from the pre-show to performance. Before my dialogue, I’m animated. But it’s difficult to be energetic when I’m trying to make someone else’s words my own. Sleep less, study more.

We’ll all be rockstars one day.