last weekend, I taught my very first yoga class all by myself. since I was subbing for a dear friend, I had to follow her format— a stretch & restore class focused on releasing tension from the body. I was hesitant to accept her offer to fill in, partially because of my creeping self-doubt (I only just finished my 200 hr training!), but mostly because I worried I would feel like an impostor and a hypocrite telling other people to let go, to do less, and to be present. who am I to suggest such things, as someone who is constantly flitting from one thing to the next, dangerously multi-tasking, and hardly home for long enough to complete a load of laundry? (one of my teachers revealed to us that she sometimes eats sushi with chopsticks while driving and while everyone gasped in horror, I had never felt so seen.)
in my vinyasa-style teacher training, I was instructed to walk around the room and avoid demo-ing postures, but in this gentle gym class full of strangers and without supervision, I allowed myself to participate in the sequence and practice with the students. of course, I had to watch the time, mind the playlist, and check my notes occasionally, but mostly, I was genuinely moving and breathing along with the rest of the room.
inhale to lengthen, exhale to deepen the twist
I firmly believe in the idea that some periods in our lives are for growing roots while others are for growing outwards. there are eras intended for nesting— carefully curating coziness and a sense of constancy— and eras to migrate away from a state of comfort. I often feel caught up in this tension between self-maintenance and self-improvement, unsure of which to focus on. I seem to be pulled in the direction of stagnancy when I am craving exploration or urged toward adventure when I most desire depth.
I bristle at any clue of complacency and run from any relationship that veers into domesticity, but I retreat from the over-stimulation of too much newness and am fearful of leaning into foreign feelings. I struggle to embrace the excitement of change and the growth it enables at the cost of stability. I envy those who have enduring connections to the places they live as adults, but would never give up the phases of my life that have allowed me to bop around the world.
inhale to extend, exhale to fold forward
one of my favorite yoga teachers and mentors used the concept of aparigraha to theme a recent class. aparigraha is the last of five yamas, which serve as a yogic code of conduct. the Sanskrit word is often translated as non-greed or non-attachment but the definition that sticks with me is non-grasping. as he repeatedly asked us what we could let go of in that moment, he reminded us that to fly, a bird must first release the branch it perches upon. much like these winged creatures, we cannot hope to soar without being willing to let go. gliding and grasping are mutually exclusive, unfortunately. but also… birds need to find a place to perch from which to take off into the sky, and like them, we must also find a safe shelter.
I intentionally avoided making any plans for memorial day, opting to take the day off and focus on re-grounding. I needed to spend time alone with myself after two weeks of hosting visitors, interviewing, and generally running around town. on a lovely morning walk through my favorite park, I was attacked by a male red-winged blackbird. the angry little guy swooped into the back of my head after a few warning calls, and I bolted through the nature trail to get away from him. I was surprised and a bit scared, but also sympathetic. I must have gotten near its nest, and I have been learning a thing or two about the importance of protecting a place of refuge. (I also felt cursed for a few days, but online research has quelled this fear by assuring me I am not the sole victim of such an incident.)
inhale to raise, exhale to relax down
a few days before becoming a paid yoga instructor for the very first time, I signed a contract for my first full-time university teaching position. this is also the first job I will ever have had that does not have an unavoidable end date. beginning in august, I will be teaching physics and astronomy to undergraduates and advising them on research. I will be able to settle fully in the city I have fallen in love with over the past few months and build my life here in earnest. I will have the possibility of pursuing regularly scheduled slots to teach yoga, knowing I am unlikely to travel for weeks at a time throughout the year. I am entering a nesting phase that is shockingly representative of my childhood dream for myself, which has always included becoming an educator.
there is undeniably a part of me that feels guilty for sacrificing the fast-paced, unpredictable, travel-filled lifestyle of this temporary position I have been in sooner than I must. mostly, I feel a sense of exhalation, a profound relief at the thought of allowing myself to sink deeper into this particular position, to let gravity and time bring my bones into place, and to dive into a dream I can finally stop chasing and fully live within.
exhale to release
I loved this, especially growing roots vs. growing outwards. Congratulations on the new role Goni! Excited for you!