Yoga Bucket List for Summer

The Spoiled Yogi wrote a wonderful post recently about a bucket list for summer, inviting readers to come up with lists of their own. Though I am generally not a "bucket list" kind of girl, I liked the idea of having a few summer oriented goals. Probably has a lot to do with the fact that living in Canada now, summer has taken on a sacred sort of earnest frenzy for me.

So, the list:

1. Practice outdoors.
2. Strike a scenic yoga tourist pose at every stop along our holiday route.
3. Master an arm balance (I haven't decided which one yet.)
4. Juice more.
5. Learn to really use my camera.
6. Spend less time at the computer.
7. Camp more.
8. Hike regularly.
9. Engage in some serious stuff purging in my home.
10. Bake more.

How about you?

Being Mindful of Space

The space your mat takes up, that is.

I attended a class recently that swelled beyond its cozy group of regulars, which resulted in a bit of mat shuffling and as a result one of the regulars - who judging by her demeanor had been displaced from her usual spot - decided to squeeze in to the first row between me and another member.

She wasn't crowded in the second row, by the way, but she clearly wasn't accustomed to being anywhere but the first row and seized her opportunity. As a result, the front row was uncomfortable close and the row she'd vacated become a spacious haven for two with those sandwiched into the back two rows refusing to move up and fill in.

As an yoga teacher will tell you, the back row is stubborn and will lie on top of each other before moving up and filling in. I wasn't surprised that no one jumped up to claim the vacated spot in the second row and hindsight makes me wish I'd moved back.

One thing to be aware of in a class situation - as student or teacher - is that everyone has sprawl room when necessary. It is difficult to be present in a pose when another person's arms or legs are continually in the way.

The woman who shoe-horned herself into the front row was very tall and her choice of spots - next to me - wasn't a good one as I am all arms and legs as well. Consequently, I spent a good chunk of the practice shifting up and down my mat trying to avoid hitting her or she hitting me.

In a standing class like Ashtanga or Bikram, mats close together isn't much of an issue, but it a Hatha class where a good chunk of the time could be spent in sprawling supine poses, space between mats is essential.

Eventually, I gave up and pulled my mat up ahead of the row. I hadn't wanted to because I knew it would call the woman's attention to the fact that she should have stayed where she was originally, and it might embarrass her. And it did. She hurried out at the end of class and when I encountered her on the street outside, she ducked her head and took off.

Being tall, I hug the walls and way front or way back in a class to avoid putting classmates in danger of my long limbs. In traditional Hatha and in Yin class where many of the poses are supine and involve extending arms and legs, I am careful to adjust myself so I don't intrude on someone else's practice. My success varies and I wish I could say I am zen about fellow practitioners who aren't as mindful.

Suffice to say, as a teacher, it's a good idea to survey the room for adequate space and readjust people before class begins or give them fair warning of upcoming poses that might result in unintentionally turning asana into a contact sport. And as a student, mindfulness extends beyond your space.

Just saying.

Bending Like Barbie

One of the hardest things to teach students is to bend by hinging at the hips. Most people mistakenly believe that rounding the back and bending at the waist is proper motion in a forward bend. This movement, however, just allows the body to compensate and avoid stretching the hamstrings and find length in the lower back. In fact, tight hamstrings and inflexible low backs are the reason so many can't hinge at the hips, so attention to this tiny detail is very important to stop the vicious circle of inflexibility in both areas.

Often I have students place their first to fingers on the hip flexor so they can feel where the forward bend should originate, but I haven't yet run across a good visual to describe the movement until I read an article in The Globe and Mail about stretching and osteoporosis.

People suffering from thinning or porous bones are between a rock and a hard place where yoga is concerned. Yoga can help but it can also hurt. Mindfulness is key always but never more so than for those with osteopenia or osteoporosis.

The article provided Barbie as an example for remembering to hinge at the hips - which places the spine in much less jeopardy than rounding and bending at the waist.

A Barbie doll has to bend at the hips. She isn't built with a flexible waist after all and therefore is a good model for the forward bend.

Bend like Barbie for back safety!

A Space of My Own

Jade, who owns the studio where I practice and teach, told me that for her, having a studio was simply about a generous space where she could practice also store all her props. Teaching was gravy. Her motto is "I will teach until they stop showing up". Healthy and totally in perspective.

I covet after every empty store front I see in our little town because, really, I just want a space to do yoga myself  and teach whoever has time and inclination to show up. But not being independently wealthy or a recent Lotto Max winner, it's unlikely that I will own a studio space of my own any time soon. Of possibly ever. Especially not here as the area is fairly maxed out in terms of teachers. Aside from Jade, the city offers a plethora of yoga classes through the community fitness center and at the library. There are two well-established studios - one being a trendy "hot" yoga option - just 15 minutes up the highway, and there are many more options in the city, if one cares to venture that far off.

Opening a studio suddenly takes my little practice space to business level, and as another teacher pointed out not long ago - "It's a lot of work."

It's also a lot of money. For rent and advertising, props and possibly renovations to make a space practice ready. Yoga isn't going to make anyone - who isn't wicked competitive  and can offer a new twist on it (see how punny I am?)- significant money.

And I am not seasoned enough to carry a studio. I am a much better teacher than I was a year ago and I improve all the time, though I credit that to just my innate teaching sense in general, but it's premature to think about a studio now.

Still, I dream of an actual space with props on hand and big windows. Ground level. Gotta stay rooted.

Confessions of a Yoga Teacher

A recent article in The Yoga Journal inspired today's post. Erica Roderfer is a serious yoga student but she doesn't come to the mat daily nor has she memorized the Yamas and Niyamas. Being a student of yoga, or even a teacher, has come to mean something entirely to aesthetic/tree-huggy/squishy zen-centered in our culture.

Most of the teachers I know are not gurus, and many of the students are just plain folk. So bearing that in mind, here is my confession list:

1) I don't practice daily either though between teaching and attending classes, I hit the mat about five times a week on average. Yoga is part of my life but it isn't my life. I think about alignment constantly though because left to its own devices, my feet would pronate and my hips would be cock-eyed and my shoulders would round like a hunchback. Not good things.

2) I don't meditate. I just don't. I try to convince myself that it would be awesome and make my insides shiny, but I don't buy it. I do lose myself in asana, so it's all good. imo.

3) I am kind of judgey where other teachers are concerned. Random sequence with no attention to alignment grates and when the class opens with "Any favorite poses?" I don't come back because it says to me that the teacher really isn't thinking about teaching enough to bother to plan a bit in advance and disjointed sequencing leads to injuries when the body is asked to do something without being properly warmed and prepared.

4) Teaching has made me less self-conscious about how I look in a pose, but I still sometimes peek at my classmates. It shouldn't matter, but the competitive part of me won't give up quietly.

5) I am not vegan or a foodie. I limit the amount of prepared food I feed my family and try to cook and bake the majority of what we eat. I even garden though I dislike the whole "tilling of the soil" thing. But I won't be writing a yoga cookbook anytime soon.

6) Sometimes I have to gear myself up to teach. It's been a long stretch without a vacation for me, and I admit that there are evenings when I wouldn't be broken-hearted if no one showed up and I could just pack up my mat and go home. Once students arrive and class begins, the feeling disappears and I am usually quite energized by the end of a class - but I am not always Ms. Yoga Sunshine at the front of the room. Sometimes I am tired, distracted or not feeling well. Teaching yoga is no different from the time I spent teaching high school kids and some days, I'd rather be somewhere else.

7) I can't do every pose and some poses I probably won't master in this lifetime. I am the teacher I am and it might be right for you and it might not. No worries.

Teach and the Students Will Arrive

I wanted to title this post with that Field of Dreams cliche - teach and the students will come - but that's a bit tantric, and tantra is misleading enough without my help.

One of the discussions we had in training covered the business of yoga because the reality is that for some teachers, yoga is strictly business. They became students with the goal of making a living at something they already did and enjoyed. A mindset like this doesn't detract from the teacher's personal practice and ideals though it might effect what their students get out of yoga in the long term.

Regardless, if a person teaches yoga the topic of compensation will come up.

Catherine, my Yoga Works instructor, cautioned the class against teaching for free. In fact, I believe she said - never teach for free. Good yogi karma and spiritually lovey-dovey atmosphere aside, I agree with her. Giving yourself away teaches others that what you have to offer isn't worth much and/or that you don't value what you've learned and have to share enough to ask for compensation. It also creates lackadaisical students because something that is free doesn't inspire students to put their best effort in.

Oh, but that is not true, you might think. People are grateful for the opportunity to learn something without charge.

Perhaps. Once. Holding a free workshop or allowing students to drop into a class to try it on for size without charge is appreciated and will in some cases lead people to regular attendance and a personal practice or more. But in my experience, people who have to put something in (like a fee) in order to experience something tend to hold it more dear. The act of investing tangibly is an important step in the learning process and this is true no matter the subject at hand.

However, once the profit is introduced to any situation the ideas of competition, ownership and marketing creep in.

This creates dilemma for teachers who believe in the goodwill side of yoga. That premise that for every student there is the right teacher and directing students to teachers, yoga practices and studios that fit their needs will ultimately come back to them in the form of other students.

Unless a person owns her own studio - and even if she does - most yoga teachers teach in many venues. Jill, the owner of the studio where I teach, also teaches at a studio in a nearby suburb. I teach at her studio and at the local community hall. A fellow Yoga Works student runs her yoga business out of her home, at her local fitness center and is actively searching for other outlets as well while she scours her little town in search of somewhere to set up a stand alone studio.

The problems arise when there is the perception of poaching students or the idea that students are loyal to studios/fitness centers rather than teachers.

The reality is that students follow teachers. There is little a studio can do to prevent this regardless of how open or draconian their policies are when it comes to allowing teachers to talk about when and where they teach.

Jill, at The Yoga Room, operates with the notion that anyone she redirects for his/her own good will come back to her karmically and if she were a case study, it would be hard to disprove her theory. Her yoga "business" is literally out-growing its space.

But others are not so sanguine and when rent is at stake, it's hard to fault them.

For the moment, I am still so amazed to be asked to teach and paid on top of it that I don't consider this my issue. Perhaps someday, but for now, I don't expect to make a living and don't really need to at any rate.

A spirited (I won't say "mean" spirited though be warned that conversations certainly go down that road more often than not) at the Elephant on this topic is worth checking out. Labor and management at odds is an eons old tale and yoga is not immune.

Teaching My First Yoga Class

My "desk" at The Yoga Room

I started filling in at The Yoga Room before I finished my 200 hour teacher training. Mainly I covered the Drop-In class at noon, which was 45 minutes and based on the Ashtanga standing series. Nothing to brain twisting. If you know Primary, you to could lead the noon drop in.

The challenge was leading students through with instruction. Remembering to cue.

There are a lot of cues. Down Dog alone has two platforms and has cues from fingers to the soles of the feet and back again.

I taught the Hatha class when Jill was away on holiday in July but teaching is a work in progress. Which is funny because I am a teacher by trade and temperment.

For twenty years, I taught English and its variant courses in middle and high school. I was good at it, which means something in a profession where it is easier to be mediorce than not.

I like planning classes. I love executing plans.

But yoga reminds me - so far - that I learned to teach as much as I was born to do it.

I'm sure that doesn't make sense to many, but I believe that the essential qualities of a teacher are gifted by the cosmic forces and it's up to the individual to hone and perfect them. All the natural ability in the world will not make you good teacher let alone a great one.

Five years into my teaching career was about the point where I could claim competency beyond the average teacher and at ten years - I made it look like magic.

My classes in the fall sessions are Hatha Flow and Restorative. This morning was Flow and I used a sequence I cribbed from the Yoga Works teacher training manual. Tweeked it a tad at the beginning and end, had to dump a few postures to allow for the full ten minutes of Savasana at the end (never scrimp here, I was told) but it seemed to go well. Had more "flow" than the first time I used it when I was subbing a Hatha class.

I am still working on pace. Pace is key. Finding the outer limit of a class's endurance, adequate reminders about the breath and able to teach a pose without getting lost.

Wanting to "teach" the poses and still moving the class along is work. I haven't found my sweet spot or even anything close, but it's not the painful stutter that it was the first few times I stood up in front of a group to teach - this is something. In fact, this is good.

Restorative is up for Monday and I am writing my sequence using Kristen Rentz's Yoga Nap. A relaxation course at the Glenrose Cardiac Rehab in Edmonton, which I attended Friday, reminded me about the breath - specifically breathing exercises. Restorative's prime directive is teaching the body to relax, which is not something people generally think they need to learn to do, so a few simple breathing exercises might be a good way to start a class. Set a tone.

I've missed all this planning and research that goes along with teaching much more than I realized it seems. It is good to put my teacher hat back on.

The Body Perfect

sukasana

I follow Elephant Journal via my Facebook newsfeed. Not to give Zuckerberg too many props, but the feed, though it's lousy for keeping track of family/friends in realtime, can be utilized as a fairly good online mag and blog reader.

The article was written by Beth Barila and discussed the mostly female unease with the body. She began with a discussion of a class she was teaching and had invited a photographer in to capture a few shots.

"Don't worry," she told her students, "it will be from behind. No one will know it's you."

Taught My First Yoga Class

Jill, the owner of the yoga studio I frequent and my teacher, asked me if I would take her Wednesday drop-in class this week.

I hesitated not.

This coming weekend will be my final teacher training session. Tests, demo teaching, Sutra presentations – the works. Teaching for real was just the thing I needed to prepare.

Over the course of training weekends, we practice teach on each other. It’s not the same as having real students and reminds me of practicing on my fellow students back in university. During the run up to student teaching (I was an English major), we’d craft lessons that we’d present to each other as though we were actual kids in a classroom.

Yes, that’s just as empty of substance as it sounds.

Patanjali Said What?

Yesterday during yoga training, we spent a bit of time going over the take home exam and receiving our individual teaching lessons for the in class exam.

It’s doable.

For the teaching portion, I am to instruct Adho Mukha Savasana or Downward Facing Dog. my personal nemesis. Down Dog is one of the most basic of poses and it’s one that I am still finding my self in. Every new teacher, workshop or training session shines light on Down Dog. It’s like “the pose that can do anything” because it is always the same yet different every day.

I am also presenting a sutra. Cat assigns each of us one or a short set of sutras and asks us to present/teach it to the rest of the group. Mine is 2.16 – The pain that has not come is avoidable.

And I thought? Seriously?