You Know You've Been Doing Yoga for 20 Years When...
You'd think I'd be awesome at it, but I'm not. Though I can follow verbal prompts without looking at the teacher and make micro-adjustments to get into the positions "correctly." (Subjective.)
And every time I start at a new yoga studio, and meet a new yoga instructor, my experience grounds me and gives me confidence. But there's also a few comparisons and critiques in the back of my head. Each instructor brings such a different perspective to the same litany of positions.
And after 20 years, there are a few truths that now always occur to me.
Such as, Downward Dog is actually a resting position. I used to dread it, all beginners do, but now it's more relaxing than most resting postures.
Or, I don't even glance at the other students in the classroom. My world narrows to my practice on my mat -- my body, my breath. And cues from the instructor. A skill honed from very full yoga classes when your focus would flit around until you learned to center yourself.
There are positions I could do years ago, and just can't anymore ... until I build up to them again after years of being out of reach. Yoga is a ladder, the more dedicated I am, the more rungs I ascend, the deeper I can move into the postures, the more closely I can link my breath. But with time off my mat, I drop down the rungs and some of those more advance postures move out of my grasp. I re-dedicate to a class, I see the rungs above me.
Do you laugh at yourself when you fall? Beginners tend to feel like yoga is a test they have to pass and they worry about doing it perfectly. But you eventually figure out that your body is a little different everyday. And the perfect Tree pose from last week is off today because you have too many thoughts bouncing in your brain. Or you're just a little unbalanced today. It's in the doing, the body-mind connection, that you find the purpose of yoga. Not in the succeeding. And falling or tipping or wobbling is funny.
Speaking of funny, some beginners find the Ujjayi breathing a little odd. It's an audible breathing technique that almost sounds like snoring but does a lot to stir up the chakras and keep your breath linked to your movements. I was taught how to use it but don't normally include it in my practice. Even so, I do like when there's a student in class practicing it. It's a great cue to keep my breathing linked, which is always a challenge to maintain.Also, I'm no longer picky about what style of yoga I practice. Hatha, Ashtanga, Vinyasa ... there's not a terribly huge difference between them depending on where and with whom you practice. For me, it's more about dedicating to a class and instructor, and feeling good.
Last, I am now pretty confident that I don't want to be an instructor. After 20 years in this practice I know I've teeter-tottered on this point, but I'm feeling pretty firm on it. I prefer the challenge of following an instructor's sequence and flow. And every teacher (and there have been many) has taught me something different, through the poses, the way they view the poses, their words or encouragement and so on. I think that's so profound and such a special trait -- I don't think I have it in me to be the gal at the front of the room. At least, not at this point. Maybe in another 20 years?
I've just started a new studio here in Paris, going with a friend, and it's been so fun to get to know this new instructor's style. Her sequences are creative and the class is really small. It's in English, so we tend to get a lot of tourists passing through. It's a good mix, so far. I'm hoping I can keep to a weekly schedule and start up the yoga ladder again. I guess we'll see!
Related post:
Check out my post commemorating 20 years of yoga
More of my Deep Thoughts
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