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Three weekends in, and I’m starting to identify where my blocks are: my mind.
That point became painfully (like, actually painfully) clear during a recent yin yoga class. “Screw this,” I thought, breaking free of a seated wide-legged forward fold (known in yin as straddle) well before the hold was over. I glanced around the room, expecting to spot more bodies that had let their brains win and succumbed to their discomfort. Everyone else waas still breathing into the pose. It was just me.
How am I supposed to teach yoga when I can’t even practice to my full potential? And is it a good thing that I am beating myself up for not pushing myself or a sign that I’m letting my ego run the show?
Thoughts I Had During My Third Weekend of YTT
I’d prefer less thoughts and more embodiment at this stage of my yoga teacher training. But here we are.
1. I love my yoga mat.
No, really—we are in love. I’ve had my Manduka eKo in Purple Haze Marble for years, even replacing her once after she was stolen. She is lightweight and sticky and feels like a constant companion, accompanying (and physically supporting me) through class, again and again, as only a reliable bestie can.
I forget her one day during training and am forced to use one of the studio’s mats as a stand-in. It’s just not the same.
2. Vulnerability is essential.
I’ve always considered myself to be an exceptionally vulnerable person. In relationships—whether romantic, friendships, family—I put it all on the line, holding nothing back. I show up as I am.
This doesn’t ring true in YTT. In group shares as well as physical practices, I keep holding back, and I’m not quite sure why. I signed up for this training with the intention of diving in deep, but here I am wandering around in the shallow end. On some days, only my feet are in the pool and I’d rather chill on the edge and observe than take a dip myself.
From staying in a deeply uncomfortable pose to sharing authentically with others, getting real with myself (and others) is an essential step in this process.
3. Eating matters.
Have you ever done a heated vinyasa class on a stomach filled with coffee alone? I have, and I would not recommend it. A weak body coupled with a fuzzy, unfocused mind that can only ponder what’s for lunch is not a formula for a rewarding experience on my mat.
Related: Protein bar recommendations, anyone?
4. Go off, yoga playlists.
“What song is this?”
“Cool! I know this song!”
“Ohh, what an interesting song.”
“Such a beautiful song.”
“Mmm this is the perfect song.”
Me and my chattering mind are all about the class playlists.
5, I’m so over my self-limiting beliefs.
A list of my current favorites: I am the least flexible person here. I’m lazy. I’m awkward. I’m not athletic. I will never be good at this. I can’t focus. I’m not taking this seriously enough. I’m taking myself too seriously. I can’t handle this. I’m not built for this.
My mind should be an ally, not an enemy. Still, knowing this fact and acting from this place it are very different things. There’s a comfort in aggressively underestimating myself—it gives me room to not show up. More on that later.
Suffice to say, I’m tired of treating myself this way. I want to get to a space where I’m more romantic and delusional than cynical and pessimistic about all of the amazing things I can (and will) do.
6. Why is there never enough time?
I’m so sick of being busy. This is less of a YTT-specific thing than a general life issue. Properly scheduling myself is a skill that ebbs and flows for me. I find myself resenting commitments that cut into my free time—and the last thing I want to do is slog through YTT because instead I could be, what, chilling at home?
This “problem” becomes even more ridiculous when you look at my circumstances. I work from home. I don’t have children. What am I complaining about? Theoretically, I am swimming in an ocean of time.
Perhaps part of the embodiment I seek involves improving my relationship with responsibility so I can flow more easily through life.
7. I miss my dedication.
Not my ambition—that’s still present. My dedication.
My willingness to move out of a pose is a sign of strength when said pose feels incorrect in my body—I won’t force myself to stay when something feels wrong. But more often than not, I use it as a crutch.
My internal permission structure is too lenient (see above note around responsibility). This was not always the case. I have written a book. I’ve worked seven days a week for most of my career. I burn midnight oil. I’ve commuted hours to get to jobs I love. I’ll hike for miles and miles to get to a spectacular view.
I want that drive and dedication back—which, fortunately, means I know I’ll find it soon.
8. (I think) I feel stronger.
The fact that I feel the need to couch this statement with a caveat is a whole different story, but it’s true. My body looks and feels ever-so-slightly different. I’m moving through the world differently (aka actively correcting my anterior pelvic tilt). And many of the poses that I do hold come with more stability courtesy of my core, my engagement of the bhandas, and a better understanding of what’s happening anatomically.
9. Embodiment is my ultimate goal.
With an astrological chart that’s dominated by air signs and a career as a writer, I can confidently say that my experience of the world is much more emotional and mental than grounded and physical. That’s one of the reasons I’m here—in this YTT and, likely, on the planet—to get into my body in the literal sense.
While many of these thoughts have to do with my inner landscape, I do hope to shift the bulk of my focus away from my mind and its many, many workings and toward asanas (physical poses) and breathing in the coming weeks. This means more classes, more commitment, and more trust in my physical abilities. With a little more practice, I’ll be free to attend to all aspects of me (and my yoga practice).
10. Sometimes, showing up is enough.
Something in me always unclenches when a yoga teacher tells the class that just making it to the mat is a win. Although any sort of learning comes with the requisite curve, I’m trying to remind myself that the reason I’m having this experience is because of me. I can pat myself on the back for creating this opportunity for growth—even on the days that said growth seems stunted. Especially on those days.
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Follow along!
10 Thoughts I Had During My Second Weekend of Yoga Teacher Training
10 Thoughts I Had During My First Weekend of Yoga Teacher Training
