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“Blahhhh,” I scrawl in my notebook, drawing a constellation of stars around the word to make it prettier.
There’s no way to sugarcoat this: the second weekend of yoga teacher training (YTT) is hard for me. I take a small amount of comfort in my teacher’s repeated assurances that this is normal, that this module comes with a touch of fatigue coupled with the heaviness of what’s to come.
We’re practicing teaching, but I don’t feel ready to do so, and I’m not sure that I ever will. All of my stuff—we’re talking mental, emotional, and physical baggage from the past, present, and, I’m pretty certain, future—is coming up. I am at once a bitter crone and a bratty child and I want to take a long nap.
I spend lots of time in Child’s Pose during class, which gives me plenty of time to think.
Thoughts I Had During My Second Weekend of YTT
While the majority of my mind has turned on me, there are some pin pricks of bright, distant light.
1. Meditation is rough.
This has always been the case for me, but it feels especially true now. My mind doesn’t quiet, even for a second. I grasp onto the thoughts I’m supposed to let float through the river of my mind with grubby, greedy fingers. Note: This will not be the last little kid comparison in this roundup, as I have temporarily reverted.
I crack one eye open to see if everyone else is meditating. They are.
2. I do not know my left from my right.
I’m only sort of kidding. I rely on the L that my forefinger and thumb make (yes, like a toddler) along with certain tattoos to distinguish the different directions.
Unfortunately, these tricks don’t work as efficiently when you’re instructing another person. I stumble over my words as I try to guide a fellow student from Downward Dog into Warrior 1 (aka Awkward Warrior).
Though I will eventually need to learn this very basic skill, I find that using alternative orienting strategies—the long edge of the mat, the short edge of the mat, the window wall, the mirror wall—to be a helpful substitute in some cases.
3. Grace? I don’t know her.
Balance poses, transitions, even Chaturangas feel more clunky than ever before. I fall out of postures constantly, tripping over leaden limbs.
4. My breath has left the building.
My inhalations are short and staccato, my exhalations blustery huffs. My breath is an afterthought rather than the guide of my practice, meaning I’m not technically doing yoga at all. Yay!
5. Maybe I just think my hamstrings are tight.
I was eight years old the first time a P.E. teacher pointed out my tight hamstrings. My mom confirmed the condition the same day. That knowledge has lived in my body ever since. Splits are not in the cards for me. I can barely touch my toes. I am the least flexible woman you know, all because of my tight hamstrings.
Or rather, this is the story I tell myself, and I’m beginning to wonder if it’s actually true. When I stretch daily, my muscles begin to ease, and I find more space than I thought previously possible. (Groundbreaking information, I know.) Maybe by the end of all of this I will have slightly more flexible hamstrings. I like this goal.
6. My solar plexus chakra is definitely blocked.
Sure, more issues begin at the root chakra than anywhere else, and I can identify issues within all seven of my energy levels. But the more I learn about the solar plexus, the more I feel like this is the area that deserves my attention right now.
This chakra deals with self-esteem, power, and purpose. And while it’s no fun admitting that I am struggling with personal empowerment, something I believed I had fully mastered, it’s a necessary step. It’s time to get that shit back on track.
7. We are all just hoping that our pelvic floors are properly engaged.
…right? Please don’t lie to me.
8. There’s a place for my poetic brain here!
The actual teaching may be intimidating, but the accompanying storytelling is not. My creative brain is thrilled by the prospect of dreaming up themes and metaphors for class. I have a long list of ideas, each more inspiring than the last.
9. This is my practice.
Whatever I am experiencing in each moment is my practice. Imagining some strong and perfect flow, a glimpse of nirvana, or even touching the floor with flat hands in Standing Forward Bend instead of embracing the reality of the present is avoiding the actual work of this yoga.
10. Have I ever been good at yoga?
I remember a time when I felt like I was good at this. I practiced with commitment and joy, unfurling my mat and stepping into each class with confidence and a quiet mind.
That woman (if she ever existed as I recall her) has disappeared. But maybe while I’m searching for her, I’ll happen upon a Me that’s even better. Maybe I’m building her right now.
Follow along!
10 Thoughts I Had During My First Weekend of Yoga Teacher Training
