Winter in the North Shore

Ahh Sydney in the winter eh. Really, is there anywhere else?

Hubby and I had a lazy Sunday yesterday with not much planned. I had to go to a photo shoot in the morning in Mosman for one of the yoga centres where I am teaching, so we drove together towards Balmoral beach where Andrew was gonna find a cafe to read his book whilst I got my pic taken posing in the sand (much harder than on the mat, i soon discovered). 

As we got across the Spit Bridge, Andrew took a turn too soon and we ended up on one Mosman’s back streets, skimming along the harbour’s edge and heading in the wrong direction, back towards the Spit. Running late already I was tempted to make some sarcastic remark but then... 

Easy tiger, hello beautiful! What an amazing wrong turn it was, I’d never explored this way before and the houses, the views, the soft winter sun as it hit the water was just stunning! Most of the properties here had expansive terraces, casually looking out over the harbour, as it winked and sparkled back at them, like a crazy diamond. As we turned a corner we could see the national park over towards Manly where deep sweeping greens leapt out from the lively shimmery turquoise and private wisps of golden sand lay at the foot of a handful of these... holy cow... AMAZING places. Do people really live there? Can you imagine? They made me think of the baddy’s house from a James Bond movie, only better.

It’s unbelievable to think that I can live somewhere so stunningly beautiful and yet so often I just go from A to B without really taking part in it or really noticing that 'nameless' space in between. I guess those self help types call it enjoying the journey. It was only because we got lost that I opened my eyes.

If only we could experience that sensation of discovery every time and really notice things.

Floating effortlessly... hmmmm

Yes, the old effortless effort quality. It’s something which us yogis know all too well as we attempt to ‘float’ through to a seated position from down dog or lift our entire body weight off the floor in a cross legged position (known as lolasana)and 'drift' back. Floating, drifting! 'Effortless' is not the word, there’s a heap of steely determination, five long years of regular practice and a tonne of internal bandha* control and physical strength required. So when the teacher (and I’ve done it many times myself) says jump or float lightly through to a seated position you know at least 70% of the class are gritting their teeth and working strongly to get a glimpse of the requisite ‘mysterious’ internal strength. It’s easy to say it, it’s not so easy to do it.

Matthew Sweeney, in his book Astanga Yoga As It Is says when learning how to jump back and through, “try to optimise both the feeling of lightness (no strain) and strength. One without the other is an imbalance.” So teeth gritting isn’t going to work is it? And that’s exactly what I feel I’ve been doing lately. I’ve lost a little bit of the lightness and let the strength (good) and strain (bad) take over, leaving me unbalanced (exactly what a yogi doesn’t want to be). 

For the first couple of months of this New Life there was a certain amount of floating going on, I was somehow letting go of any external or ‘obvious’ effort but; like an eager-to-please duckling paddling madly to keep up with mum, my webbed feet were working double time. At least then I was managing to maintain some floaty serenity; now I’m splashing.

So, where’s all this going you ask?

Well as a new yoga teacher I feel this responsibility to be light, serene and to present effortless effort in all that I do. You know a good teacher when it all just comes together naturally; you’re taken along in the current of their class and you don’t even notice it. Who knows if anyone is taken along in my current, but today I made my first obvious yoga boo boo. It did not come together naturally at all. I was teaching a corporate class in the city at a market research agency where my sister works, and I had my alarm set for 6am to get the ferry at 7am and be there for 8am when my husband woke me up at 7.05 saying, ‘Claire, don’t you need to be up?’

Oh sh*t

So I leapt out if bed, called my sister straight away and apologised. What else can you do? But I feel like I let people down. Due to traffic and ferry times etc it wasn’t going to be possible to make it there for 8 or even 8.15 and they have to start work at 9. So I just had to say sorry again and that I’ll be there next week for sure.

So much for the effortless effort.

But of course, as my hubby said, these things happen. It’s the first time I’ve let anyone down (knowingly!) with a yoga class and at least now it will make me be sure to double, triple check that my alarm clock is properly set.

I am sure most people would agree but there's nothing worse than letting other people down (except maybe letting yourself down) and I did both. I’m tired at the moment, these are not excuses, but I guess I didn’t wake up naturally at 6 ish as I usually do 'effortlessly'; so I need to pull on some of that steely strength, the years of regular practice, and a bit more lightness, to take things a little less seriously. Occasionally we can’t jump through lightly, we mess up, I can’t let it weigh heavily on me.

*Bandhas are internal locks or seals are contracted or activated during yoga practice and which contain and control prana (energy) and heat within the body. The most common bandhas are: mula bandha  at the pelvic floor; uddiyana bandha located at the navel, lower abdomen region; and jalandhara bandha which is a tucking of the chin to bring about soft audible ujjayi breath.

Yoga burn out

I remember a few months back reading an article in the Australian Yoga Life magazine about new yoga teachers suffering from burn out, and I thought – that’d be nice, to teach so many class that you get tired! Well, this week, I think I might be starting to char. The promise of endless hours to chew over books and get inspired hasn't happened and instead I'm buzzing and fruzzing between the mat and the Mac to answer emails, write bits and blogs, and of course teach and practice. Okay, it's probably just this week because there are quite a few teachers away so I'm covering a lot (which is great by the way) and things will get back to normal again next week but I wanted to share my experience of this new lifestyle in all its colours, and this part is a kind of roaring, sports-car red.

I’ve created my own real life mini yoga olympics and last Friday was the opening ceremony, with a 6-8am Mysore practice (just the knowledge of the hours ahead sent lead through my legs) followed by a few hours emailing, planning classes, finding music, then at 10.30 – 12pm I taught again, then a bit more class planning, then I did my yoga apprentice program from 3 – 5.30pm, practicing again, then it was time for the Funky Friday Flow class at 6-7pm, then… err, did I miss lunch? It was an incredible day and I was fully immersed, focused, riding it… a prana high perhaps? Yesterday, another event; up at 5, taught two classes, off to the office, full day at office (8.30am – 5.30pm) then back home, sizzled up and omelette then taught 7.30pm class, sofa was yearning and then bed. Zzzzzzzzzz…. Up again this morning at 5.30, taught another class and… etc etc. Now I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful or that I’m not enjoying every single minute. Because I really am. I am absolutely LOVING the teaching. To the point where, when I talk to anyone about it, I feel a goosey rush creep up my cheeks. They say it’s a calling. I’ve never really known what a calling feels like and if it gives you goosey cheeks a big smile (and little wee bags under your eyes), well I think I’ve found it.

But it’s interesting how it’s starting to take its toll on my body. After the full on Friday my back started to tighten and quiver. Uh oh. No more. Then I started to feel a twangy twinge across my left buttock into the injured hamstring and down the leg. My teacher suggested I see a chiro and sure enough everything started to pack up. In silhouette I looked like a lower case ‘r’, barely able to straighten my back and as I did, there it goes, the twingy twang. So my lovely chiro took one look at me and my alphabetty posture and decided it was all connected, as it so often is. A few sacrum clicks and some excruciating deep tissue massage into my psoas and I should be right as rain  in a few days. So, I’ve decided to slow it down a bit. I’m teaching tonight and first thing tomorrow, but in my own practice it’s gone all squidgy bolstery with nourishing, supportive blocks, lots of breath and less stretch. My teacher told me to try practicing at 70%, and breathing at 100%, apparently you feel as light as silky scarf. I’ll give it a go. Here begins another type of yoga.