In Alaska this summer, running the spa at the Lodge at Whale Pass, I discovered I really loved taking people from the massage table to the yoga mat to further the therapeutic effects of body work and asana. After much meditation, journaling and thoughtful consideration, I made the decision to make the financial commitment to go to yoga school and become certified.
From the wet, isolated shore of the Alaskan Pacific Ocean I dreamed of warm sandy beaches and a tribe of yoginis.
I had already been teaching yoga. It started as trial by fire when a teacher failed to show up for a class in Skagway, Alaska a few summers ago. The students were so disappointed that the class was canceled, I found myself volunteering to teach. It was a wonderful experience. I channeled my favorite Anusara teacher, Mandy, and the class was inspired. I rocked it. I was hooked.
I taught yoga at the spa in Honduras where I did massage and then shared studio space in my home town, Brady for a few months before returning to Austin.
Traveling to Baja, Mexico for training was to my mind a mere formality. I loved teaching, had a strong practice, really great teachers and the confidence to lead an asana practice. Sure, learning the Sanskrit names of the poses was going to be challenging, but I wasn't worried. I was sure that the teachers would be adequate. I would get my certificate and could then teach in Austin. I reasoned that no matter how good I was, with all of the yoga teachers there I would need my certificate to be able to teach, so I would get it and take my place in the community.
I have been a body worker for sixteen years and I am good. Wherever I travel people from all over the world sing my praises. Mine is often the best massage anyone has ever received. I am a knowledgeable yogini and people love my classes. I have had some of the best teachers, chosen from many whose knowledge I drank in greedily. I am a geek about anatomy and the mechanics of both massage and yoga.
While I was in Alaska I had a well known orthopedic surgeon on my table. I told him things about his body that he didn't know and was able to show him how to balance his anatomy with yoga. He said, "I am a doctor. I thought I knew the human body. Hell, I thought I knew MY body, but you have taught me things through bodywork that I had no awareness of." Like I told you. I am really good. I've worked on movie stars and elite athletes. I was excited about incorporating yoga into my massage practice to further benefit my clients.
When I arrived in Baja the first student I met at the airport had a casual yoga practice and just wanted to come down to experience the training and possibly one day, teach. I quickly surmised that the yoga school hadn't qualified the students very selectively. I found myself
hoping the teachers would be adequate. I was already thinking about what an asset I could be to share my practice and knowledge with the teachers and my fellow students.
Class started and yes, I already knew most of the anatomy from my massage training. The vinyasa practice was good and a bit challenging because I'd worked more than I'd yoga-d before I left to be able to better afford the trip. I felt stronger and more fit and yes, felt the benefits of the wisdom I had gained through my years of dedicated practice learning the Principles of Alignment which are the basis for Anusara Yoga. There were women who were more fit and athletic than me in the class but I felt pretty confident about my understanding.
The funny thing about growth is that it shows up when you're ready for it. Sometimes you don't know you need the growth, much less feel ready for it. I was ripe for some evolution and I didn't even know it. The first time we sat down for Satya which is a truth circle, I teared up and started crying. Not the quiet, cute crying where tears roll down your cheeks from big dewy eyes, but the loud, red-faced, snot accompanied crying. The question that we received from and then passed to each other was "Do you feel safe?". I felt deeply and intensely that no, I did not. I said, "No. I make it safe for everyone else. No one makes it safe for me."
Shane our teacher allowed me my tears for a bit and then asked me if I'd like to explore what I was feeling and perhaps be relieved of it. "No." I blubbered through my tears. I couldn't bear being even more raw in front of a circle of stangers than I already was. There was a pause and then I was allowed to pass the question to the next person.
I had a glimmer of what was going on but no real awareness. My ingrained reaction was to suck it up and fall back into line with the people who didn't cry. The people whose mothers didn't try to cram religion down their throats, making them suspect of any giving and caring that wasn't romantic love.
At a music performance the night before, Shane had hugged me meaningfully and a little too long for my comfort. I was the first to pull away. I walked to my tent under a full moon in the Mexico sky, listening to the waves wondering why I couldn't accept love.
It was the silly praise. The singing and upturned faces as if everything was assured without work. The satiya called up the euphoria of my mother and her friends praising Jesus. I was offered love as a child but it was married to judgment. Why do we judge others? Because we have been judged and judge ourselves. Bless their hearts, that was the Jesus of my mother and her friends and what they taught me.
My experience was that safety comes in a much more limited offering and I had to work hard to feel safe and constantly evaluate my surroundings in order to keep the feeling of safety. More judgment.
What I realized was that despite how evolving I felt my life was, trying to be safe had made me hard and full of ego and judgment trying to protect myself.
I was ready. I broke down completely. Thankfully, since my return from Mexico I have been able to stay a bit softer and juicier. I learned how to listen to my body and the emotions stored there rather than taking what the chatter of my mind says is true. My mantra now is, "All of the love and acceptance I need is already inside of me." It allows me to be softer. When relieved of the burden of trying to find security from the outer world, I am more able to look people in the eye and find out who I'm sharing this journey with.
I still don't know the Sanskrit names for all of the poses. That wasn't the hardest part after all. What I learned was much more divine.
