I’m about to teach yoga for the first time in over 2 months.
I’ve taught some single postures a few times alongside my (ahhhmazing) 300hr peers in training but that’s it. This may not sound like a huge deal. However, when you’ve quit your real job (ahem, twice), lived the past four years teaching weekly, have fought for classes, been building up your knowledge, your student base and confidence in a saturated yoga market and now believe in your worth, it’s a little dance with your ego taking on the role of instructor again after this small gap of time.
This gap hasn’t been a vacation I’ve just arrived back from. These past two months have brought on so much heavy reality and change that I didn’t see coming with this experience. Arriving in this city alone brought these deep, heavy and honest internal conversations to the surface. I’m the one asking the questions and I’m the one searching for the answers. My new best friend has crooked teeth and a mole on her cheek. I have to trust her. She’s going to be around forever. I thought my focus here in NYC would be on practicing yoga every (damn) day in pretty studio’s with big-named teachers all over the city, full of fancy #stopdropandyoga pictures with dreamy cityscapes behind me, and yoga YOga YoGa yoGa yoGA yOgA YogA YOGA. Because, you know, that’s what’s important. Well, that’s only been about 33% of my experience so far. It’s actually been super challenging to focus on my training, my homework, and my reading assignments. The real questions of life showed up on my doorstep shortly after I arrived to my warm little furnished bedroom in Brooklyn. They continue to show up on my mirror in the mornings, on my yoga mat as I practice. They swim in the tears that roll down my face after an intense heart opening practice or vocal session with my YTT group. (YTT’s can we PLEASE do that again? Who’s got a harmonium?) They are also in the refreshing moments in the city when the sun is shining and people are smiling back at me on the street. When New Yorkers have a contagious pep in their step and just might talk to you on the subway (OMG!). That’s when I remember that this is the Yoga. Reality. Presence. Fear. Freedom. Choice. Weakness. Honesty. Vulnerability. Bad days, good days. Scary conversations. New conversations. And so, so much more. 33% of this experience so far has been asana, anatomy and so many teaching takeaways to put in my yoga instructor tool belt. But this other 67%? That’s the real shit. The dark moments of tears and of guilt. The scary uncertainty of the future. The fear and shame of hurting others by the domino effect of my own choices. But again, I have to trust my new best friend. Her gut, her instinct, her heart.
Rumi get’s it.
“I have been a seeker and still am, but I stopped asking the books and the stars. I started listening to the teaching of my soul.”
Oh and let’s also dance with the fact this is a corporate yoga class with a large fashion design company on the 21st floor of a building around the corner from Times Square.