All yoga teachers are not created equally. Several students have asked me about how to chose a yoga teacher, and since we did add 'yoga teacher' in the title of our blog, here is my advice.
Advice #1: Find a teacher that resembles your body type or a type you want to work toward. This advice usually works. If you are a sexy, thin, young thing in perfect shape who wants to achieve Scorpion by next month, find a young, energetic instructor that will challenge you. On the other hand, if you have a little extra abundance and find certain poses difficult due to said abundance or injury, find an experienced teacher who may share that lovely padding or injury. Furthermore, men and women have different bodies (just in case you failed to notice). A man or strong woman might better understand difficulties in flexibility and balance poses that most men have whereas a woman may understand pregnancy better.
In my experience, I have found young, athletic teachers many times do not teach technique and fail to understand many of the common challenges of the average person in basic poses. These teachers may teach headstand, shoulderstand, and/or upward bow (backbend) in the very first class. It may work for some, but to me, this is not yoga; it is a workout...and a dangerous one at that. Yoga isn't about doing the most difficult pose. It's about performing each pose such that you find ease, comfort, and peace. Returning to the basic poses to focus on different aspects can be life-changing (hmm, maybe I should do a post about that).
Advice #2: Find a teacher with a similar personality. If you tend to be an introvert, longing for quiet and solitude, find a teacher that exudes this. But don't forget to try classes with variations on your personality, but not necessarily the opposite. Most introverts will come out of a class taught by an energetic, type A teacher with a headache, feeling drained or shaky. However, by searching for a teacher slightly more outgoing, you may leave with a little of that energy, feeling uplifted and happier and open to new things. This holds true for extroverts, artists, intense personalities, and crazies.
Advice #3: Don't give up on yoga after a single teacher. Personally, I greatly disliked my first yoga teacher and only somewhat tolerated my second. However, because I enjoyed dance, martial arts, and my yoga DVDs, I persisted in my search for a yoga class when I moved. Here, I loved my first teacher and adored my second. I even dragged my husband to the classes and he fell heart first into the relaxing, strengthening, lengthening, and ohm-ing experience.
Advice #4: Try several teachers and classes. I have had some students ask to ohm at the end of class while others feel it's too spiritual. Some want perfect silence to focus inward while others want a community. You might prefer strength poses or balance poses or a longer Savasana. Some instructors may repeat the exact same poses every class while others mix it up with lots of variation. All in all, the class style will be almost as important as the teacher.
Personally, the style I teach and the style I prefer are quite different. Both focus on technique, sometimes working intensely on a particular body part in a set of poses or holding poses for several breaths. Both allow movement and flow within and between the poses while building strength, flexibility, and calm. However, while I teach an interactive class, where I allow my students to talk, ask questions, or laugh with peaceful music playing in the background, I prefer to take a class that is mostly silent. I like to take these moments to bring my awareness fully inward to focus on where my limbs are in space, how my lungs expand and deflate, and what emotions may arise during the pose. My brain tends to be overactive, so this pulling inward helps to deepen my practice.
So, in other words, try a little of everything. Find a home class but always branch out a little to learn something new, both about yoga and about yourself.
Monday, October 15, 2012
Sunday, September 23, 2012
You Never Remember What You Were Angry About
I've done it plenty of times before.
You're enraged. It's the umpteenth time (this thing has malfunctioned / I've run into this problem / I've had to do this / he's done that). That's all you can stand, you can't stands no more! So you lose your cool. Say things you shouldn't. Throw things never meant for flight. Hit things never intended to receive blunt damage. Then you get better; you calm down.
And you feel ridiculous.
The best part of it all? After a day or two, you don't even remember what set you off. But you sure remember that you did get angry, yell hurtful words, throw the wrong things.
Other people remember that, too. They, too, don't remember what set you off (nor do they care, most of the time).
Mindfulness isn't easy. But imagine the power of recognizing your anger and acting in a controlled manner instead of giving into it and coming out the other side with regrets.
And isn't that what life is? Finishing with the least number of regrets?
You're enraged. It's the umpteenth time (this thing has malfunctioned / I've run into this problem / I've had to do this / he's done that). That's all you can stand, you can't stands no more! So you lose your cool. Say things you shouldn't. Throw things never meant for flight. Hit things never intended to receive blunt damage. Then you get better; you calm down.
And you feel ridiculous.
The best part of it all? After a day or two, you don't even remember what set you off. But you sure remember that you did get angry, yell hurtful words, throw the wrong things.
Other people remember that, too. They, too, don't remember what set you off (nor do they care, most of the time).
Mindfulness isn't easy. But imagine the power of recognizing your anger and acting in a controlled manner instead of giving into it and coming out the other side with regrets.
And isn't that what life is? Finishing with the least number of regrets?
Monday, August 6, 2012
Limiting Selfishness
The Last Psychiatrist has taught me two things--1) articles should be carefully read to find what the data actually means and what the authors want it to mean [ie what is the story]; and 2) everything boils down to narcissism. Go ahead, read a few posts, and you may come to hate that word. Most people function in their own narcissistic world because, really, in my world, it is all about me. I see the world through my filter, and my decisions matter more to me than anybody else, though they can affect everyone around me. It's so true. Try talking to somebody else about their problems, and those issues may seem so trivial, so not-problems, compared to yours.
This narcissism is partly why civility and compromise is so lacking in our current political system, but this blog is not about that. It's about the day I shed a little of my narcissism; or should I say it was forcibly removed from my screaming grasp?
It's a day I will never forget. To set the scene, I was in pain after a post-labor surgery, a time when every step resulted in agony. My husband and his family traveled to museums that day leaving me home with a screaming, projectile-vomiting two-month old and a couple of cats angry at the visiting dogs.
It had always been about me beforehand. I was unhappy. I was in pain. I needed something. But now, it was no longer about me. It was about this inconsolable stranger of an infant. Everything had always come so easily to me, except this. Mothering was difficult, almost unnatural. Why couldn't I be good at this? Why didn't my years of yoga and meditation help?
With these thoughts tumbling through my skull and hours upon hours of a baby's crying, I lost it. So I gently placed a shrieking Stinkbug in his cradle and threw an almighty tantrum--screaming, crying, throwing pillows, stomping. And when all was finished, I felt cleansed, calm, almost happy. It really wasn't about me, and that thought took the weight off my shoulders. I didn't have to be good or calm. I just had to be there, doing the best I could.
I felt a shift that day, and the big things began to matter less. My anger came less often than pre-pregnancy me, and my moods leveled out. To this day, I laugh at things that would have gotten my back up, even though, like all moms out there, I now cry at things I used to laugh at.
This narcissism is partly why civility and compromise is so lacking in our current political system, but this blog is not about that. It's about the day I shed a little of my narcissism; or should I say it was forcibly removed from my screaming grasp?
It's a day I will never forget. To set the scene, I was in pain after a post-labor surgery, a time when every step resulted in agony. My husband and his family traveled to museums that day leaving me home with a screaming, projectile-vomiting two-month old and a couple of cats angry at the visiting dogs.
It had always been about me beforehand. I was unhappy. I was in pain. I needed something. But now, it was no longer about me. It was about this inconsolable stranger of an infant. Everything had always come so easily to me, except this. Mothering was difficult, almost unnatural. Why couldn't I be good at this? Why didn't my years of yoga and meditation help?
With these thoughts tumbling through my skull and hours upon hours of a baby's crying, I lost it. So I gently placed a shrieking Stinkbug in his cradle and threw an almighty tantrum--screaming, crying, throwing pillows, stomping. And when all was finished, I felt cleansed, calm, almost happy. It really wasn't about me, and that thought took the weight off my shoulders. I didn't have to be good or calm. I just had to be there, doing the best I could.
I felt a shift that day, and the big things began to matter less. My anger came less often than pre-pregnancy me, and my moods leveled out. To this day, I laugh at things that would have gotten my back up, even though, like all moms out there, I now cry at things I used to laugh at.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Life Unfinished
Stressed. And anxious.
Why so anxious? To get this thing done so I can do the next thing of course.
And I only have so much time because there's work that takes up all the daylight hours and I just don't have any time before or after that between making lunch and picking up the kid from daycare. You don't understand, if I can just get this thing done then I can...
I realized something a long time ago and I'm still trying to absorb it - that I will go to my grave with a to-do list as long as my arm. That's just how it works. If you didn't always have a bunch of stuff to do, what would you do? On my way home from work, I sometimes drive by a particular house. When the weather is nice, I see an old man out on the front porch of this house, just sitting. He doesn't seem feeble and the view of the road with commuters going by certainly isn't pleasant. Every time I see him, I wonder if he's at peace with himself or if he's just run out of things to do. Usually I conclude the latter.
It's easy (very easy, in fact) to become so engaged in knocking out the items on your to-do list that you can lose sight of what life is in the first place. When was the last time you genuinely enjoyed one of your daily, routine tasks? I know, me neither. You and I, we're both working so fiercely to work through the (daily|monthly|five year plan) list, we don't consider what's on the other side. We forget that life is a continuous, holistic experience.
Instead of slogging through our list of chores, what if we occasionally, deliberately, injected something we enjoyed? Better yet, what if we slowly removed the unpleasant activities and replaced them with more enjoyable ones, including a few moments to just relax on the back deck, just sitting, or better yet in a hammock under new spring buds?
Why so anxious? To get this thing done so I can do the next thing of course.
And I only have so much time because there's work that takes up all the daylight hours and I just don't have any time before or after that between making lunch and picking up the kid from daycare. You don't understand, if I can just get this thing done then I can...
I realized something a long time ago and I'm still trying to absorb it - that I will go to my grave with a to-do list as long as my arm. That's just how it works. If you didn't always have a bunch of stuff to do, what would you do? On my way home from work, I sometimes drive by a particular house. When the weather is nice, I see an old man out on the front porch of this house, just sitting. He doesn't seem feeble and the view of the road with commuters going by certainly isn't pleasant. Every time I see him, I wonder if he's at peace with himself or if he's just run out of things to do. Usually I conclude the latter.
It's easy (very easy, in fact) to become so engaged in knocking out the items on your to-do list that you can lose sight of what life is in the first place. When was the last time you genuinely enjoyed one of your daily, routine tasks? I know, me neither. You and I, we're both working so fiercely to work through the (daily|monthly|five year plan) list, we don't consider what's on the other side. We forget that life is a continuous, holistic experience.Instead of slogging through our list of chores, what if we occasionally, deliberately, injected something we enjoyed? Better yet, what if we slowly removed the unpleasant activities and replaced them with more enjoyable ones, including a few moments to just relax on the back deck, just sitting, or better yet in a hammock under new spring buds?
Friday, July 13, 2012
Mommy Politics
I could spend all day listening to the diverse reactions of parents toward their children, from the first daycare drop-off to when to stop breast-feeding to the decision to have multiple kids. When talking with other moms, I feel so awkward, so un-nurturing. Neither my husband nor I fell in love with our son at first sight, or six months later. He was a stranger, one we created, but still a stranger. We did, however, do everything possible to care for him and cuddle with him. Nor did I cry after dropping a then eight-week old Stinkbug off at the daycare. I ran away whooping and joyfully clicking my heels. Announcing these two things in a room of mothers can make the conversation halt quicker than asking women their ages and weights.
Then there's the question if we want more children. We are fairly quick with our resounding 'NO.' Not that we don't love Stinkbug now, but we are quite content with one, thankyouverymuch. We already have one child that spent the first six months spitting up my milk on everything and everyone, that sleeps far less than we do, and that makes my cat jealous with the amount of cuddling he desires. Even after this, nearly everybody from the checkout lady at the grocery store to the ancient Greek man who runs the snowball stand--everybody except our parents--has explained to us how we should have more children in such obvious and simplistic terms as if explaining the necessity for food or water or AC. I've heard all of the reasons, so that's when we are usually forced to pull out the big guns to make them stop. My Stinkbug ripped me asunder, leaving my husband and doctors scared for my health if I should ever have another. And there you go; that makes them stop. Not that we are simply happier with one, that we can offer him the world while still fulfilling our dreams. No, but the reason of my health.
Then again, maybe it's not the concern for my health that halts the incessant questioning, maybe it's the talk about my ladyhood. As I said before, I always love to see the reaction.
Then there's the question if we want more children. We are fairly quick with our resounding 'NO.' Not that we don't love Stinkbug now, but we are quite content with one, thankyouverymuch. We already have one child that spent the first six months spitting up my milk on everything and everyone, that sleeps far less than we do, and that makes my cat jealous with the amount of cuddling he desires. Even after this, nearly everybody from the checkout lady at the grocery store to the ancient Greek man who runs the snowball stand--everybody except our parents--has explained to us how we should have more children in such obvious and simplistic terms as if explaining the necessity for food or water or AC. I've heard all of the reasons, so that's when we are usually forced to pull out the big guns to make them stop. My Stinkbug ripped me asunder, leaving my husband and doctors scared for my health if I should ever have another. And there you go; that makes them stop. Not that we are simply happier with one, that we can offer him the world while still fulfilling our dreams. No, but the reason of my health.
Then again, maybe it's not the concern for my health that halts the incessant questioning, maybe it's the talk about my ladyhood. As I said before, I always love to see the reaction.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Do Savasana Dammit
Halfway through 2012, and it's time to move my little blog into the new year. This time, it's about Savasana, you know that pose at the end of a yoga class that is a yoga pose, just like Warrior or Firefly or Crane or Extended Twisted whatever. It is a pose to be worked on, to be fully-experienced, a pose that will most likely be more challenging for some while being adored by others.
I find myself grow so angry at those individuals--especially at gyms--that leave a yoga class before Savasana. When questioned, most will say that it's boring, that they would rather spend their time working out. Why are they so scared of laying quietly for a few minutes? And yes, I say scared. Savasana is a time to allow your body to absorb the past hour, to allow the senses to fall silent, and to quieten the mind. I believe it is the latter that practitioners find difficult.
How much more active is your brain when you try to stop it? We have all been there-- the grocery lists or the urgent need to scratch the inside of your left big toe. But it's not an order to cease that will halt all of those extraneous thoughts. This will only lead to more thoughts, more lectures, and maybe even more condemnations on the inability to shut the mind up. However, it's a letting go, an acceptance that your mind is active and the willingness to not let it draw your attention that will finally allow meditation and peace to just happen.
Try this next time. Give your body permission to relax while you focus on the yoga of the mind. Give your mind permission to run wild...in the background. Go ahead, let the thoughts come and watch them go, without grabbing at them. Now, let your control go. This is what most Americans will find most difficult--releasing control--but only then will you find the flow and a refreshing sense of peace.
I find myself grow so angry at those individuals--especially at gyms--that leave a yoga class before Savasana. When questioned, most will say that it's boring, that they would rather spend their time working out. Why are they so scared of laying quietly for a few minutes? And yes, I say scared. Savasana is a time to allow your body to absorb the past hour, to allow the senses to fall silent, and to quieten the mind. I believe it is the latter that practitioners find difficult.
How much more active is your brain when you try to stop it? We have all been there-- the grocery lists or the urgent need to scratch the inside of your left big toe. But it's not an order to cease that will halt all of those extraneous thoughts. This will only lead to more thoughts, more lectures, and maybe even more condemnations on the inability to shut the mind up. However, it's a letting go, an acceptance that your mind is active and the willingness to not let it draw your attention that will finally allow meditation and peace to just happen.
Try this next time. Give your body permission to relax while you focus on the yoga of the mind. Give your mind permission to run wild...in the background. Go ahead, let the thoughts come and watch them go, without grabbing at them. Now, let your control go. This is what most Americans will find most difficult--releasing control--but only then will you find the flow and a refreshing sense of peace.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Minimalism in Suburbia
I've recently become a big fan of minimalism. We found ourselves cleaning out our bookshelves the other week and I had about a 1:4 ratio of keep:toss on the books I came across (where 'toss' is more of 'give to local book shop'). The books in the 'toss' pile were in great condition and were still new and relevant, some of them having been published this year. But I had read them, enjoyed them, and they weren't reference books so... they got a second life. That was my response when Mrs. Cynical Yogi commented on how aggressively I was getting rid of my books.
It was, as they say, liberating.
But what about the tools? We don't even have a lot of tools but, man, do we have a lot of tools. Suburbia implies homeownership, or at least some property that needs maintenance. Maintenance requires at least some nominal set of tools and unless you're wealthy (and if that's the case, what are you doing in Suburbia?), you'll be doing the majority of the repairs yourself. That four-pack of screwdrivers and single pair of pliers aren't going to go very far.
So you need the drill, you need the skill saw, you'll need extension cords... You begin to deviate from the minimalist standard. You begin to accrue things. Whether you use them sporadically or every day, you're still accumulating them. And don't give me that 'you can borrow or rent!' line. Constantly borrowing things puts you in the 'mooch' bucket and ABC rental doesn't have it all, nor is it as close as the toolbox in my basement.
This dilemma is indicative of one of two things. Either 1) Minimalism is a great philosophy that has its place but doesn't easily address all of life's concerns or 2) the lifestyle many of us lead is deeply flawed and will take nothing short of an upheaval to get us to change.
We may see more on this later.
It was, as they say, liberating.
But what about the tools? We don't even have a lot of tools but, man, do we have a lot of tools. Suburbia implies homeownership, or at least some property that needs maintenance. Maintenance requires at least some nominal set of tools and unless you're wealthy (and if that's the case, what are you doing in Suburbia?), you'll be doing the majority of the repairs yourself. That four-pack of screwdrivers and single pair of pliers aren't going to go very far.
So you need the drill, you need the skill saw, you'll need extension cords... You begin to deviate from the minimalist standard. You begin to accrue things. Whether you use them sporadically or every day, you're still accumulating them. And don't give me that 'you can borrow or rent!' line. Constantly borrowing things puts you in the 'mooch' bucket and ABC rental doesn't have it all, nor is it as close as the toolbox in my basement.
This dilemma is indicative of one of two things. Either 1) Minimalism is a great philosophy that has its place but doesn't easily address all of life's concerns or 2) the lifestyle many of us lead is deeply flawed and will take nothing short of an upheaval to get us to change.
We may see more on this later.
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