why-i-can’t-asana

I hear students in class often talk about how they “can’t do” an asana. It just occurred to me that if the student has a goal for improving her practice through doing more complicated poses, the question is not “why can’t I do that?” It’s rather “where can’t I do that?”

Your whole reality will change if you start looking at your body as an instrument that you play in class, versus a thing that holds you tethered to the physical, mental, and emotional patterns you know. This small step — of detaching just enough from the body to see its behavior more objectively — represents a quantum leap in healing the body, mind, and spirit through yoga.

Benefits of teaching

I¹ve been worrying about the prospect of teaching yoga for months now. It was sort of unfathomable to think of myself as a teacher. I have been afraid of the exposure inherent in teaching—the sharing and the vulnerability. What if I’m not good enough? What if my students evaluate me and find me wanting?

To prepare, I recruited my boyfriend, who had never taken a yoga class in his life. During our session I wondered: is he bored? annoyed? does this make him more resistant to yoga? But when we were done and I looked into his eyes I felt a new kind of connection, a generalized sweetness between us. Yoga has the power to do that.

A coworker volunteered to be a second guinea pig. My first reaction was “no!” but sleeping on it calmed my anxiety and I agreed to teach a lunchtime class. On the day of class I had four students instead of one. But the previous night’s experience with my boyfriend made me calm.

It wasn’t the class so much as my experience after that I remember. I found myself open and happy. I saw my coworkers through new eyes, with love and compassion. I wanted to be close to them. I wanted to ask about their lives. I appreciated their chatter instead of resenting when it took me away from work. I felt radiant and loving. Who knew that teaching yoga would bring these gifts to me? I always thought it was the other way around. That teaching transferred energy from teacher to student. But these early experiences with teaching have enriched me, and brought me energy and joy.

Do I have to?

One of the things I’ve dreaded about becoming a yoga teacher is having to teach even when you don’t feel like it. You couldn’t sleep last night; you had a fight with your spouse; you have a cold—but you have to teach yoga at 9 am. Well, last Saturday it happened to me.

My wrist and ankle were sprained from a nasty tennis fall, I hadn’t slept well because I was nervous about teaching, and when I showed up to the studio 45 minutes early to savor some alone time, I couldn’t figure out how to unlock the door.

I took a deep breath and proceeded to wander up and down U street looking for a payphone to call a staff member. (In an effort to keep life simple, I’ve avoided getting a cell phone.) The one phone I found didn’t work. So, I wandered up and down W street trying to remember where Andrea, the teacher training admin, lives. I found her house. She wasn’t home.

Eventually, I walked back to the studio, greeted the first student, and invited her to try to open the door. The lock wouldn’t budge. At 8:57 am, the second student showed up and took a turn, and like magic, the door unlocked. This left all of three minutes to prepare for class.

I always thought this would be the part where I would launch into a panic attack and decide teaching isn’t worth the trouble. But instead, everything flowed just as smoothly, if not more smoothly, than the last time I taught. I enjoyed teaching an intimate class of four and had fun with the uplifting series of poses I prepared. Maybe it was my students, my mellow music, or a mix of both. But somehow, teaching when you don’t quite feel like it isn’t so bad. It’s kind of like how practicing yoga isn’t so bad even when you don’t feel like it.