Back on the yoga train

...That is the teaching yoga train. Choo choo!

It's been so difficult to concentrate lately, and I've not fully connected with my teaching for a couple of weeks now. Coincidently since I got back from the UK and acquired a four legged fluff ball ('powder puff' as the vet called him!) It's like my puppy has soaked up all my brain juice in that big fluffy cloud of a coat of his. But I'm feeling it coming back.

I taught three classes over the weekend and I'm right back into loving the teaching. Loving it.

Sometimes you've just gotta jump back into it to realise how much you enjoy it.

It was a back to back Saturday morning class to start with, which is 3 hours of non-stop teaching. It's pretty hardcore, mainly because you're so concentrated and focused and of course yakking, for a full three hours. I was pretty sick of the sound of my voice by the end, which was sounding ever-croakier by the minute. But in fact I felt so connected with what I was doing by the end of the class that I didn't really even notice.

Then last night I taught again. Just 10 students and they all knew the sequence really well so there was a great flow and energy in the room. I started the practice off with a sitting breathing practice, whcih I rarely do, but should do more often. Just listening to the breath and becoming aware. Then I got the students to consider an intention for their practice and to keep that throughout their practice.

I have no idea if they did that (though of course at the end of the class I reminded them to reflect on it) which was odd, because I still have no idea if they did. Yoga teaching can be so feedback-less. It's like you're setting people off on a journey to a completely unknown place, like a far, dark corner of the moon, and you've no idea where they're going or what they're experiencing. In fact it's all a bit like that, even when giving adjustments, you've still got little idea of how much they are enjoying it and how much they're being polite.

Anyway, I'm not concerned with these things. I'm just happy to be back teaching and getting some focus back. Without being too dramatic, (okay I'll be a little bit of a drama queen) but I felt as if I'd almost disappeared in a puff of.. err powder. But I'm hauling it back in now and feeling a little more happy.

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.

A learning from the German

What a week.... I tell you what my teaching muscles are weary and so are my smile muscles (that's another one to add to my work in progress novel 'Manly Complaints' - a list of the most ridiculous whinges I hear from this little piece of paradise I'm fortunate enough to call home).


I mean, what a week.  I think I ended up teaching around 15 classes all up. So by the end of my teachathon I felt pretty standard up there. Fittingly, the week's teaching ended with a rather curious Level 2 ashtanga class which I was covering for my teacher. 


Level 2 means the students should be pretty familiar with the ashtanga primary series and have at least 6  months experience. Well it was 5pm Sunday evening, after an awesome 'Christmas in July' dinner with some pommy mates (turkey, stuffing, brussels, the lot) I had to take my turkey belly off to teach this class (no mulled wine for the yogi sadly). It's the school holidays and it was a suitably drizzly dank day (very British Christmas) so I expected a small class and thought, we'll whip through the sequence and I won't demonstrate at all (due to my turkey baby) which you can easily do with ashtanga since people know the poses. Too easy. And, as I thought, it was a small class, but that's where the meeting of my expectations ended.


There were two girls who were pretty experienced and two guys who I couldn't even describe as beginners. Well there was one, a  German chap, who'd never done any ashtanga, I think he'd probably been to one yoga class before in his life. He was fully tattooed up, massive arms, chest bared, like a man going into battle, a huge guy with a lazy linger of a smile which sat mischievously in one corner of his mouth.


So, I opened the class by getting everyone settled, legs up the wall, coming into their breath and body and then when we were about to start the sun salutes when he says: 'I can't understand you, can you please speak better?' 


'As in louder?' I replied


'No, you know, better, better pronunciation...'


So I thought, okay, English is not his first language, that's cool, I'll have a go at speaking more clearly. No problem.


We went through the salutes and he clearly had never done one before. So I was right next to him, going through the up-dog, down dog, chataranga-motions, the Christmas sprouts and pigs in blankets nudging at my throat, threatening; but I carried on and demonstrated almost every salute, because he wasn't really responding to my clear-instruction endeavours.


In between demonstrating I was adjusting the students in down dog by placing my hands on their lower back and when I put my palms on his sacrum he lets out this funny little squeal and then, 'ahhhhhhh, oooooh' 

'Sorry were my hands cold?' I asked


'Oooh noooooo, it's just niiiiice'


I couldn't help but laugh, and nor could the other students in the class. I kept thinking, focus, this class is turning into a shambles, keep  the students focused. This is Ashtanga, it's meant to be serious business this ashtanga.


And so the madness continued... Of course it would.


We were about an hour in and I felt I had to say something. I needed to break the ice, pop this over-blown (slightly psychedelic) balloon we'd created here in this yoga-space. So I started laughing at an opportune moment and said:


'Man this is a funny class' 


It was like the air rushed straight out of the balloon, pure relief, and suddenly everyone was laughing. 


Well the yoga went out the window, along with the air. So much for coming into a beautiful yogic state of concentration and pure awareness.


Oh well. It was funny. 


Right at the end of the class, one last ditched attempt I thought 'I know - eye bags.' Those wonderful little lavender-scented bags of beans always help people to go inwards; maybe I can win back some focus here. Wonderful. Everyone can get fully immersed in their savasana. So I start handing out eye bags.


'I don't like eye bags' a booming voice replied.


Oh well, that's it, everyone was off again... 


Well, it was certainly a learning experience. I've never known a student to challenge the unofficial 'yogetiquette' of silence in class (or at least an appropriate quiet in those down-time moments or during postures, unless being spoken to one-on-one with the teacher) and I was so aware of these experienced students perhaps wanting and needing a good class.


I felt like I was patient with him. I hope I was able to give something to the other other students.... I still wonder if I acted 'correctly' and what else I could have done. 


Realising now there's so much more to teaching than standing up in front of a few people talking through the postures.