#ttacapulco

[eyesbreathbody]

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

[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]

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]

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]

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]

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.

[eyesbreathbody]

The tallies

Primero de Mayo. May Day. A reason for celebration, but not to the same extent as Mexican Independence Day in September. Still any good excuse for reflection.

The tallies as follows: Ten classes in six days. Check! Twenty hours of lecture. Check! Diarrhea. Check! Countless worry about dialogue. Check! Great roommate. Check! Facebook friends growing daily. Check! Improving Spanish. Check! Gorgeous location. Check!

I couldn’t ask for more. Daily room cleaning. Generous sunny weather. Yoga room hot like H-E-L-L. Am I in the honeymoon stage? You betcha. I have only about 80 classes left to go but I’m not counting.

Not really. Maybe until my hips give out.