Well, the Sydney weather took a nippy turn last week, so after a couple of days typing in my stripy gloves (one day they’ll invent keyboards for paws) it was time to go shopping.
The heater was bought in a bit of a flurry from David Jones. Not knowing much about portable heaters (central heating is fitted as standard in darkest England), I asked for some no-nonsense advice. Well, the shop assistant worked me out straight away and shot back: "I don’t know exactly what you’re after but old folks love this one." so naturally I snapped it up in two shakes of a tartan slipper.
So, heater buying aside, it’s been an eventful few days. Hubby has been in New Zealand on business so the whole concept of time has ceased to exist for me. I can literally wake up whenever I want, and sleep whenever it calls (hang on, this is what retired people do isn’t it? I’m always calling my Mum during one of her 2pm naps…) However, thankfully some deep-rooted sense of life’s purpose has let me resist hibernation and get on with all these funny little projects I’ve set myself. This isn’t sounding very eventful is it? Well, I assure you, by Grandma’s standards, it has been. This morning my website went live! Minus the logo/branding and some little tweaks it’s ready to be rolled out to the masses (my 3 followers, thank you guys)! So, taa dah, here she is: You’ll see at the moment it’s just a wee Baby Bear site, you know just some basic information and contact details. In time, as my technical (and small business) skills grow, hopefully we’ll be seeing a bit more of Mummy Bear…
So back to my eventful week. With the thoughts of last week's post fresh in my struggling yogi mind, I have been very conscious of resisting any attachment to outcomes, whilst still following my goals. For instance one of my ever-so-casual-not-bothered-too-much-okay?! goals is to become a yoga teacher. And this week I saw some outcomes (should I be happy about this, I mean I feel happy but is that an attachment? Anyway…) This week is looking pretty busy folks, as I am due to teach seven classes, two of which were last night due to unexpected sickness (hooray! – sorry, but it was only a cold!); one private class this morning; a community class at Lululemon; and another couple over the weekend.
The school I taught at last night have a philosophy to restrict numbers to a maximum of six per class, thereby letting the teacher give more personal attention and specific modifications to individuals. Both were quite mixed classes so this approach was particularly appropriate; and each had an older chap who’d just started yoga. It’s interesting when you teach people like that, (so accustomed as I am to Ashtanga classes which are mostly full of fit young folks, leaping and floating around the mat like spring lambs) and I sometimes wonder to myself if they are getting as much out of the classes as the more advanced practitioners. But then I considered my early experience of yoga, (when on a physical level I couldn’t touch my toes let alone understand what a deep ujayii breath was) and I remembered how it felt. What a sense of achievement! As my private student texted me this morning to say, “Thanks for the class, I felt quite smug for being up at 5.30am” yoga feels like it’s good for the soul. There was a subconscious sense that it’s awesome to be up so early, moving about; a vague idea that you're making some quality, nourishing time for yourself. Now that I am up early most days, practicing or teaching, I sometimes, rather guiltily, feel I’ve lost that sense of the amazing power of yoga and I’m grateful for the class last night and my student this morning (also a complete beginner) for reminding me.