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“I’ve arrived,” I think as I settle my butt onto my bolster for the first evening of my 200-hour yoga teacher training (YTT).
I am here to investigate, excavate, and educate myself. Also, to learn more about yoga. A YTT is an undeniably physical undertaking, so although my personal goals are more spiritual, there will also be a greater sense of strength and mobility thrown in for good measure.
As I take in introductions, conceptual terms, anatomical notes, ancient wisdom made modern, I am buzzing with gratitude at the chance to absorb this knowledge within this unique container. Appropriately, my mind is far from the quiet place that yoga encourages.
Thoughts I Had During My First Weekend of YTT
My inner world seems to be on my side—for the most part, that is. My racing thoughts go something like this:
1. This is it—the moment that I finally dive fully into my spiritual practice.
I flip through The Heart of Yoga by T. K. V. Desikachar, struck by the way the Yoga Sutra addresses the same issues as every self-help book I’ve ever read but with such graceful simplicity. My spiritual journey has ebbed and flowed since I was a teen. Now, I’m ready for a tsunami in the hopes that, post-storm, I will be free to sip from this ocean of insight at my leisure.
2. I know nothing about my body.
Like, absolutely nothing.
Okay, this isn’t entirely true, but at this moment, it feels like it. I never played sports. I paid minimal attention in P.E. and any required biology. Sure, I love yoga, I’m a huge hiker, I even enjoy running. But I have minimal awareness and comprehension of what’s going on with me on an anatomical level.
The cognitive dissonance that I have enjoyed up until this point was for my comfort. As our YTT leader points to muscles, bones, and joints, I nod while internally recoiling. I prefer my meatsuit abstract, thank you.
But if I want to live a long and healthy life, I need to release this inclination. My body isn’t a hypothetical, it’s here on Earth and it’s my vehicle. I can’t take care of it without understanding it.
3. These women are cool as hell.
Even if this entire training consisted only of hanging out with this group and chatting about life, I would still benefit immensely.
4. Warrior I is hard.
Considering that it’s technically the first in the Warrior series, Warrior I is incredibly challenging. It’s not a pose I can pop up into or exit quickly, especially toward the beginning of practice—I need a couple of beats to angle my foot and hips and actually sink into the preferred alignment.
In fact, I propose that this pose be renamed Awkward Warrior, so we can all share knowing smiles every time we take it.
I move my back foot to the prescribed 45-degree angle and it all feels wrong. Widening my stance so that my feet are hip distance apart (rather than on a tightrope) helps, as does a back foot placed closer to 60 degrees.
Compared to Awkward Warrior, Warrior II is a comfortable breeze.
5. I don’t know if I like hot yoga.
This is a fun and fascinating fact, particularly as I am doing my YTT at a heated studio.
Historically speaking, one of my favorite aspects of yoga is the mental shift I undergo during a really good class. Fully attuned to breathing and finding myself in flow with my body, I can forgo grosser realities and get closer to something divine.
This does not happen for me in hot yoga. Or it hasn’t happened yet.
The physicality of the practice is fantastic—I am paying much more attention to my alignment and staying strong in my body throughout. But the meditative escape I seek is kept at bay by the rivulets of sweat running down my face and body.
A new challenge: learn to access my desired state while feeling icky and sticky.
6. Geez, I still have trouble with authority!
An immediate tension ricochets through my body when I am told what to do. When a flight attendant tells me I can’t use the restroom on a plane, I have to combat my natural inclination to hop up and strut down the aisle, just to demonstrate my free will. (I am aware that this is not one of my better qualities.)
Even so, my inner 16-year-old is aghast at and and all of the kindly presented and very reasonable rules around timeliness and homework and presentations. I thought that I had mastered this irrational aspect of my personality, but I guess it has been a long time since I’ve been in an educational setting.
I’m also a triple Aquarius. So.
7. I need more yoga clothes. And a towel. And a bag strap.
My athletic wardrobe, like my fitness regimen, has always been pretty thin. I’m more of a tattered-sports-bra-and-pilled-leggings girl than an Alo ambassador.
The uptick in practice and the added sweat factor mean that my collection of yoga goods is about to grow. Plus, if I’m honest, I want to feel cute. It’s hard enough trying to remain comfortable within my body while pushing its limits and realigning some of its less-than-beneficial natural tendencies. I should at least be able to admire my outfit while I wobble in Half Moon Pose.
Gear that I’ve never considered is suddenly making sense. I leave class and use a paper towel to dab off my face, knowing the time has come for a towel. And the Tumaz bag strap that’s in the mail is sure to make schlepping my long-loved Manduka mat around town an easier feat.
8. Not so sure about the whole teaching thing.
Unlike many who pursue a YTT certification, my goal is not to teach. The idea of teaching has always sounded nice—particularly during dryer bouts of my former life as a freelance writer—but the more I learn, the less qualified I feel.
This might be because…
9. I am not good enough at yoga to be doing this…
…and everyone can definitely tell.
Or I feel like everyone can tell. In reality, I’m almost certain that no one is paying all that much attention to me. If I can really let that reality in, that will be one of my biggest wins.
10. I’m proud of myself.
Still, I’m doing my best to commend myself for stepping so far out of my comfort zone. That’s what life is about, right? Finding your edge and then pushing, gently, until it isn’t an edge anymore—it’s a horizon. And I am so excited to be on this journey.
