In a previous life, I wanted to be an actress. I wanted to shine on Broadway, recite Shakespeare with the best of them, and just act.
In another iteration of my current existence – potentially imaginary – I wanted to be an architect. I wanted to created order, neat lines, and building designs. I wanted to construct, add my lines to structures and learn about what kept buildings upright.
I might be a writer, but I’m not always a storyteller. True, I tell stories, but most of the tales I weave are highly married to reality because a) I’m shit at being fake, and b) I’m so shit at being fake, most of my fiction writing is just plain awful. So I tell about what I see hear, touch, smell taste – experience. Perceive. Think that I know, question that knowledge and think again. And then go right back to the start, realize I know more than I thought I did, but yet nothing at all, and find a new story from a different perspective.
In yoga, there is the architectural structure of each movement, the presence one must have in front of a class – akin to being on a stage – and the telling of a story through the safe and mindful vinyasa and poses, passed down through generations, from teacher to student. I’m picking up my thread of the story, knowing that I perform as my authentic self in front of those who need a more informed guide through their practice. I will learn to construct and scaffold a sequence that both brings students to something new and a tad precarious, but also forms an arc allowing for mobility and stability and a bit of physical and mental growth. It’s an art. It’s a performance. It’s a building from the ground to the being to the body to the mind and it’s the telling of many personal stories, none of which are my own (thankfully.)
So the day we learned more about structuring a class, we were also asked to put together a sequence. And this sequence had to unite poses we had discussed during the day. My mind awoke in a way that reminded me of choreographing dances and “radio plays” (IE recording ourselves on a tape recorder and pretending to be a TV show, laughing like crazy the entire time). It thrilled to the possibility of considering movement and the flow of one pose to one another. It was intrigued with the manner in which the body has to be “prepared” for a deeper twist, more difficult balance, or more intricately stunning pose to the tune of “Bird of Paradise” – svarga dvidasana.
And it was wide open.
Do I still have my “what the holy hell am I doing moments?” Of course. Deciding to become a yoga teacher just sort of happened, but it felt so natural that I know how I am here, and have an idea as to why, but I am not entirely sure what made this actually happen. It’s not a whirlwind, I was not living in a fog of complacency, rather it felt like the right thing to do, and that so many serendipitous factors brought me to Sacred Sounds Yoga Studio and continue to indicate that this is the right place in which I should be for now.
Because whenever I start to think “what in the holy hell am I doing?” I remember: “I’m learning to teach yoga.” And I think about buildings and theater and storytelling and realize that this just unites all three things that make my heart sing. And it is right.
“I didn’t need these things. I didn’t need them.”