Practice implies repetition and consistency over a long period of time.
Yesterday, I said to my 9 AM yoga students, while they held a long Down Dog, “This might sound heretical and this is my opinion only but here’s the thing: Do you want to learn from a teacher who doesn’t have time for their own yoga practice?” Now, these guys are dedicated to their practice and we have a lot of trust between us, so I felt comfortable saying this to them. Often I say things out loud that really ought to be kept to myself, but this morning I opened my mouth and spoke. Today I’m still sitting with what I said because I feel that it could be widely misunderstood. I’ll do by best to shed a little more light on what I meant:
I completed my first yoga teacher training in 2012. I initially did yoga teacher training to further my own studies and delve deeper into the traditional teachings and practices of yoga. I never wanted to become a yoga teacher. That was not my idea of a “good time” (or my “dream job”). Standing in front of any number of people wearing stretch pants reciting Sanskrit is not within my natural comfort zone. I’m intrinsically a very shy person. I’ve learned to be outgoing, outspoken, and personable.
Looking back now, I remember that during my first yoga teacher training my teachers would use their lunch break to do their own asana practice. The training room was closed to students for an hour and a half so that our teachers could use the space for their own. We were not allowed back in the room until 30 minutes before class began.
I remember thinking, “Wow, that’s kinf od a lot of yoga.” What I didn’t know then, but what I do know now, is that teaching yoga is really different than doing your own yoga asana practice. In the seven years I’ve been teaching yoga, I’ve gone from one end of the pectrum—taking weekly yoga classes as a student and substitute yoga teacher, to the other extreme—not practicing at all because I was teaching over 10 classes a week, to finding my way someplace in the middle where I now teach yoga six hours a week and practice at least my own meditation and yoga asana every day for at least 5 to 30 minutes (some days longer). I take Sundays off.
From where I sit at 31-years-old with no children and no mortgage, and a hefty student loan debt plus a car payment, it’s my opinion that there’s hypocrisy in calling oneself a “yoga teacher” when one has no time for their own yoga. We all waste time in different ways. As teachers, how can we adequately offer space for other people to practice yoga and have no space or time for our own investigation of yoga?
How am I supposed to offer intelligent instruction for engaging the process of yoga if I am not actively engaged in this same process? How am I to lead others if I am not navigating the same terrain? How? When does formal practice get put on the back burner? If you’re a mother? If you’re caring for your elderly parents? If your spouse is ill? If you are ill? These are not questions aimed at a final answer. This is my own on-going exploration of what it means to be a yoga student, what it means to be a yoga teacher, and the necessity of formalized spiritual practice.
As a yoga student first and foremost I believe in formal practice. Sure, I could call a hike in nature my “yoga practice” for the day. I could use the sweet metaphor of washing dishes as my “yoga practice.” I would even say that being with my darling niece and nephew is a sort of yoga. Yes, all of these forms of play and practice could be yoga when we view the picture from a much broader perspective. And yet… what about formal practice? Do we save our formal practice for when we have the time? For weekend workshops? For retreats? For when we feel like it?
Ma Devaki, a Devotee
The only way I’ve seen that is remotely effective is 1. To keep showing up, and 2. “Go within and scale the depths of your being from which your very life springs forth,” as Rilke instructed Franz Kappus in his Letters to a Young Poet. It is my wish for all practitioners of yoga is that we are students first. Studentship is the foundation from which all good teaching arises. Yes? Studentship elicits humility, curiosity, and dedication.
Yoga is a life-long process that implies experiencing some discomfort. It’s a path of evolution, and on that path, we ask the question, “What remains consistent?” Like my friend, Rachel used to ask me every time we got together for tea, “What’s steady on consistent in your life, Shinay?” As a 20-something, the answer was always hard to come by and I believed that if my life was not always constantly changing and new with a great drama to play out that there was something wrong. As a 30-something, steady and consistent is a quality I’m learning to love and invite more of into my life. I’m
I still get itchy from time to time wishing things would constantly change form, and yet—the moments that I look forward to are the early morning