Nothing to see here

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Namaste.

Put down that load

I've posted elsewhere that I'm getting ready to take some time off. I'm tired and need to recharge. It's not surprising, then, that this week I've been moved to teach classes based on letting go of tension in the hips.

I had an interesting conversation recently with a fellow teacher about how many people seem to be walking about fully clenched, as though they were scared their world was about to drop out of their nethers. This is a bit extreme, perhaps, but can there be any doubt that if you have amenable hips life is so much easier? Look at that frog: just hanging out in the pond in my garden. Make that your intention today: be more frog.

Student or teacher?

Photo: morguefile.com

I don't get to a regular class at the moment, but last night I treated myself to a session with the lovely Claire Hyde. She used to be my student, but now she is my teacher and sounding board. The class was in a hall where I used to teach, so it really was like coming home.

It was a great session, based on hip openers and connecting with what's true. What was true for me last night was that my balance was rubbish! I was all over the place. Years ago I would have been very embarrassed, but last night it was just funny. Ego secure.

I know people read this blog; the stats tell me that. Why not go a step further and leave me a comment?

Stripped Back

Photo by Louise Jensen

I was back at Rushton Hall last night not to teach an extra class, but for a gathering to mark the publication on my book, Stripped-back Yoga. It was a lovely evening, made all the more special by the support - and purchases! - of so many of my students who turned up, some of whom I hadn't seen for ages.

I made me realise, yet again, that I really do have the best job in the world.

Playing to the gallery

I took one of my classes outside this week, into the beautiful grounds of the hotel and spa where I'm lucky enough to teach. We found some shade on the manicured lawns, and as we lay down beneath the evening sky we could see red kites overhead and hear the distant sounds of the village cricket team practising. It was splendid.

The only thing that would have improved the setting would have been if the hotel hadn't been playing host to a conference that finished just as we were about the start. Delegates were pouring out on to the terrace with drinks and buffet food in hand jostling for position, not to find a table, but rather a spot on the steps leading down to the garden for a good view.

We didn't mind, really. We have enough inward focus not to be distracted by clinking glasses and chatter, but we did wonder what they thought of us sticking our tails in the air while they were enjoying their chicken legs. What was really funny was how they made no secret of the fact that they were watching us. I almost expected a round of applause when we finally rolled up our mats and headed back inside.

'I'm like a bird'

It was a challenge at the gym today. The car park was heaving, because there was a conference on next door; the online booking system is still showing classes are full when they're not; and the air conditioning wasn't working. It was a sticky start in many ways.

Because the room was so hot, we agreed to keep the doors open. One door opens on to the corridor leading to the changing rooms and the swimming pool, so there was a constant stream of folk going past our session. Many were talking loudly into their phones and quite a few stopped to have a look at us with our tails in the air.

The other door opens on to a reception area, where people were chatting and clinking coffee cups, and loud music was playing. We acknowledged the distraction, but tried to keep our focus inwards, like good yogis. I smiled on the outside. Highlight of the session came when we were moving into  Eagle posture, just as Lynyrd Skynrd's 'Freebird' came on.

Honestly, you couldn't make it up.

Taking flight

There was a lovely mis-hearing in class this weekend, when a student thought she'd been asked to make 'evil arms'. The request was actually for Eagle arms.

Mind you, Garudasana can be a tricky blighter and is definitely not one you could pick up from a book - for example, in Asana, Pranayama Mudra Bandha by Swami Satyananda Saraswait, the go-to text for many teachers and from where I've taken the accompanying image, the instructions are:

Bend the elbows and bring them in front of the chest. Twist the forearms around each other with the left elbow remaining below. Place the palms together to resemble an eagle's beak. 

Got that?! Students blessed with an ample bosom might fall at the first instruction. I maintain you could simply bring the backs of the hands together and still reap the benefits in terms of awareness and focus. Find a good teacher to talk you through the finer points. It's not worth tying yourself in knots over it.

R . E . S . P . E . C . T .

At the end of my yoga classes, I always invite those present to join me in saying Namaste. There are many ways to interpret this word, but I usually explain it as 'The divine light in me honours the divine light in you.' It is, I explain, a gesture of mutual respect.

I try to show respect to everyone on and off my yoga mat. It's not always easy. Some people are, shall we say, challenging. However, if someone is difficult I tell myself that maybe she's having a bad day. Perhaps she was up all night with a fractious child or maybe she has bad feet. I do believe that it's important to take what we learn on our mats into the world beyond.

You might like to consider whether you always receive respect from the people for whom you work.

Creative contacts

I am privileged to know and work with some very creative people, not only in a yoga context, but also in my other job as a writer. Sometimes these worlds collide.

My forthcoming book Stripped-back Yoga is in the final stages of production and I've spent the last few days sorting out the cover. I'm delighted to say that I've been lucky enough to work on this with artist and author Malcolm Parnell and he has created an image specially for me. The big reveal isn't far away!

Money makes the world go round

I'm a fan of The Pantaloons theatre company. At the end of their performances, they always say thank you to us, the audience, and ask us to buy some merchandise because this magically turns t-shirts into petrol for their van.

There is sometimes a feeling that we yoga teachers should work for love: for the sheer joy of sharing the knowledge and spreading the word. Perhaps that's true, but it doesn't wash with the staff in Morrisons, who always ask for money in return for my bag of food. The fact of the matter is that we need paying for our labours (most of us, anyway). That said, I've never come across a yoga teacher who won't step in at short notice to help out a friend or run a session at a charity do for nothing.

The thorny question of what to charge for covering someone else's classes came up in conversation with a fellow teacher this morning. My advice to her was that it's perfectly reasonable to ask for the appropriate fee for the job; that way the situation is clear and there are no nasty surprises for anyone. This might mean losing out on work occasionally, but so be it.

Go back to the yamas, specifically asteya, which is usually translated as non-stealing. If you undersell yourself, you are giving the other party the opportunity to steal from you, albeit unknowingly and possibly unwillingly.

Asteya pratishthayam sarva ratna upasthanam 

To one established in non-stealing, all wealth comes.

Little bit of politics

Every organisation has to have committees and people in charge. Compliance and transparency are essential, especially in charities. Today, though, I'm finding it hard to reconcile the administrative unrest caused by political matters in certain quarters of the yoga profession with what I'm trying to teach.

I did my teaching diploma with the British Wheel of Yoga: 500 hours of study for what I still believe is the best qualification around. Yes, you can pop along to some places and do a couple of weekends, learn a few Sanskrit words and a clutch of basic postures, and then call yourself a yoga teacher - but why would you, when you can do it properly through the BWY? I'm still a member. I've been to many events and training sessions run by the Wheel and met some wonderful and inspiring people along the way.

It saddens me, therefore, that the organisation seems to be in such disarray. The election of managing officers is underway at the moment. Ballot papers were despatched, but then had to recalled because of a mistake. A few days ago, I receive a replacement election pack, but this, too, is likely to be deemed redundant, because of the resignation of various key players over matters that need not be explored here.

I am grateful there are people who are willing to put themselves forward for what is often the thankless task of committee work, and I hope that those in the BWY who are embroiled in disputes about the direction the organisation should be going find a way to resolve whatever lies behind this unrest to the satisfaction of everyone involved

How many is too many?

I was pleased to be asked to cover a class at the gym yesterday. The usual Pilates teacher is on holiday, so I took the session instead and gave them yoga, which is what I'm qualified (and insured) to teach. This was a surprise to them, but nobody left, so I think I got away with it. As I never tire of telling people, Pilates and yoga are not the same, but there are enough similarities to make the two compatible.

One of the challenges of teaching in a gym is that I have no control over numbers. In one way this is good, because it saves me worrying if anyone is going to turn up. However, gyms need bums on mats to make a class viable, so the groups can be larger than they would be in a private class.

Yesterday I had 22 people to teach. There was just about room for them, although I had to modify my lesson plan to avoid anyone losing an eye to her neighbour's flailing limbs; but it made it quite tricky to watch them all at the same time.

It also made it quite hard for them to concentrate on their own practice. There was a lot of head-turning to check what everyone else was doing and I did wonder if they were getting as much out of the session as they would have done in a smaller group.

I'm not complaining, though. It was useful and interesting not only to have my teaching abilities challenged, but also to work with new people. I wonder if anyone of them will start yoga in addition to their regular Pilates sessions.

Who is the most important person in your life?

I caught the tail-end of Book of the Week on Radio 4 this morning: Factfulness by Professor Hans Rosling, read by Adrian Rawlins. I only heard a couple of sentences, but the gist was that too often we spend our time focusing on things we fear, rather than on what is actually dangerous: and that is a waste of energy. On this alone, I'm minded to seek out the book and read the whole thing. I thought it chimed nicely with our recent yoga focus on being brave.

This week, we're moving our attention to self care. It's a bit corny, but nonetheless true, to say you can't pour from an empty vessel, but you need to take care of yourself in order to care for others. Of all relationships, the one you have with yourself is the most important, because it colours everything that you think and say and do.

I'm just going to leave that with you.

Feeling formidable!

Ready to take the plunge?

In classes last week, we worked with the idea of springcleaning our lives and making a fresh start. This week, I'm thinking about how brave we have to be to make changes, especially when people around us are determined to stay exactly where they are. If you have the mental agility to make any sort of change, this can be seen as a threat to the status quo.

We can all get comfy in our rut. It's warm and cosy and we know what to expect. It's OK to be reluctant or even scared to change. The question is, what is holding you back?

Do you dare live a new life by letting go of the old one?

Feeling funky!

Image: album pic from Amazon.co.uk

Well, what an extraordinary day Saturday turned out to be. I went across the county border into Leicestershire to work with two new-to-me teachers (see Friday's post) and it was physically and mentally challenging - in a good way.

The first session was Funky Yoga. Now, some of you know that I'm not usually a fan of attaching the word 'yoga' to another when it is purely for the sake of marketing, but that is definitely NOT what was happening here. Pascale Taylor delivered a fabulous morning of 'proper' yoga, but with the twist of funky background music to help us lose our inhibitions and do what felt good. As someone who is grounded in a hatha practice that involves holding formal postures, this was really liberating. Nor was it an easy option; she made us work for our lunch!

The afternoon was also a revelation. Inner Dance, led by Kerry Calle, was a completely new concept to me. I was expecting a sound-based relaxation; what I got was certainly sound based, but I'm not sure it was relaxing. The pre-workshop info said:

[Inner Dance] is a meditation to music developed or discovered by Pi Villares in the Phillipines. It uses music to affect brain waves to take participants first into deep relaxation and then into a state similar to lucid dreaming. During a typical session people may twitch or jerk, move as part of the dreaming, experience emotional release, or stay deeply relaxed for the whole session. Its been likened to the visions that come from using Ayehuasca . . . Music will play and you should close your eyes and keep them closed to the end of the session. Then just do what feels right. The music will change, I will come and work within your energy field and may lay hands on your body.'

To be honest, I was rather disconcerted by some of the sounds that she played to us (there was some deep, noisy breathing, for instance) and when we came round, as it were, I wasn't sure how I felt. (I was also cold, but that was probably down to lack of blankets rather than anything mystical.) By the time I'd driven home, I felt a peculiar mix of tired yet alert. I really can't explain it. However, I slept well on Saturday night and woke full of energy on Sunday - and having reached a decision about something that had been bothering me. Hmm. 

I offer thanks to both these wonderful teachers for opening me up to new ways to practise. I would love to work with them both again.

_/\_

Is it spring yet?

The New Year for me begins not in January, but on the day spring finally arrives, regardless of what the calendar says.

How do we know it's spring? It's not when the dawn chorus returns or the clocks spring forwards. It's not when the winter duvet is packed away for another year or fledgling daffodils appear. Rather, it's a change in the air that can be tasted. It's a lightness in our steps and a looseness in our shoulders, as we tune into rebirth in the natural world, shake of our winter weeds and drink in optimism.

It's a time to refresh our yoga practice, too: maybe buy a new mat, sign up with another teacher or re-read the Yoga Sutras. How do you celebrate spring?

What do you think?

I've been thinking about thinking, and what I think is that I've been thinking too much recently. Notwithstanding all that yoga training and practice, I'm finding it hard to switch off my thinking circuits (and yes, I'm aware of the irony, given the title of this blog). Even when I have time to sit, I'm reaching for a book to read or a notepad on which to jot something down. I don't seem to be able to keep my mind still.

That is why in all my lessons this week I shall be encouraging my students to come out of their heads and into their hearts, to stop thinking and start feeling. It doesn't matter to me what they look like in their postures (as long as they're safe, of course); what is important is how they feel.

A yoga class near me is holding a fundraiser in aid of Guide Dogs for the Blind at which 'blindfolds will be provided'! Can you imagine practising yoga without your sight? Is it true that if you lose one sense the others compensate? I'm not sure if it's true for the physical body, but it's an exciting prospect in a yoga context for those brave enough to try working in the dark.

In the meantime, I'm going to dial up the meditation and see what happens to my thought processes. If you have any tips for achieving mental stillness, please share them.

Back on my hobby-horse

Many of you will know that I have a bit of a thing about brand-name yoga. I'm not talking about respected traditions, such as Iyengar, but rather the proliferation of such practices as Goat Yoga and Beer Yoga. Sticking the word 'yoga' in the name doesn't make it right, in my not-so-humble opinion.

Now, I'm sure that some of the leaders of these classes are teaching with integrity and are genuinely trying to find a way to introduce yoga to as many people as they can. I'm equally sure, though, that for some it's just a kerching move, aimed at separating gullible hipsters from their money.

Twice in the last week I've heard about PiYo (note that annoying upper case Y). This is apparently a fusion of Pilates and yoga and not the latest in pick-your-own veg - although it might as well be. Pilates is a fine practice. It has proved beneficial to many people, including those who also practise yoga. My question is: why the mash-up? Why not teach both, but separately?

It is, as they say where I come from, neither t'other nor which.

Survival of the fittest?

Well, I survived. I spent all day teaching yoga to Year 12 students at a local senior school as part of a PD Day (which I think stood for Personal Development). Despite my apprehension, it went well. Nobody walked out (although one student decided she'd rather watch: fair enough) and three out of the five supervising staff members joined in, which was pleasing.
.

Lessons I learnt from the experience included:

• Have a plan in mind, but be prepared to change it, depending on the group
• Despite being so young, teenagers aren't necessarily flexible or strong, so be kind
• Check you have taken the price tag off your new t-shirt before you begin
• Drink lots of water and suck throat lozenges 
• Anyone who chooses to teach full time in a senior school deserves a medal

Initial feedback suggests that I delivered what was wanted. At any rate, my invitation to go back in a few weeks' time to do more sessions with a different year group hasn't been withdrawn.

Back to school

Today, I've been planning my lessons for the forthcoming week, which includes a special day next Thursday, when I shall be working with the students in a senior school. I'm looking forward to this - I did it last year, so I know what to expect - but I shall be a bit apprehensive, nonetheless. Teenage girls can be scary, and I know because I can remember being one: full of attitude and so sure I was right about everything. What do you mean, I'm still like that?

My plan is to treat them like adults. Of course, I'll bear in mind that they are still growing, physically and emotionally, but I see no reason to dumb down. It will be interesting to see how they respond. Some of them will hate it, I'm sure. Some will say they hate it, but secretly quite enjoy it. Some, I hope, will fall in love with yoga. I was a teenager when I first started going to classes with my mum - and look what happened to me.

Wish me luck. I'll let you know how it goes.

Taking the register

January does strange things to class attendance. On the one hand, it's a New Year and the urge to take up exercise can be overwhelming. Some of my sessions over the last couple of weeks have been packed to the rafters. This morning, for instance, I had 18 in a session that normally attracts about a dozen. My evening session has been fully booked and with a waiting list. I'm pleased, of course, but I know that this will pass, once resolutions start to falter.

Conversely, other class numbers are down, due to coughs and colds, bad weather, and good stuff on the telly that is a much more attractive option than braving the elements. This too shall pass.

That's the joy of teaching. You never know who's going to turn up - and that also brings challenges at this time of year, when absolute beginners jostle for position with old hands. What can I teach that will not only please someone who can't reach their toes, but also satisfy a yogi who is comfortable in a headstand? I don't want to frighten anyone away, but nor do I want anyone to be bored.

Oh, I love a challenge.

Arise, great warrior!

Warrior I

It might seem strange that there is such a thing as the Warrior posture in yoga, given that yogis are known for being peace-loving and non-violent. Actually, there are three Warriors (Virabhadrasana I, II and III), strong, standing poses that are the foundation of any practice. Despite the name, however, they are not aggressive.

They are really about tuning into your internal, spiritual warrior: that part of you that chooses right over wrong, good over evil. In the Bhagavad Gita, we read the conversation on a battlefield between Krishna and Arjuna, as two armies prepare to fight; but it is clear that the universal enemy is ignorance of the self.

'Kill therefore with the sword of wisdom the doubt born of ignorance that lies in thy heart. Be one in self-harmony, in yoga, and arise, great warrior, arise.'

That said, though, I maintain that if you practise a Warrior pose before a tricky conversation, you will have a better outcome!

Add some colour to your day

I like Dawn French, but I have to take issue with her recent comment that adult colouring books can get lost.

I've seen enough TV cop shows to know that one way to make a youngster open up is to sit and do something creative with him in a non-threatening environment. Occasionally the child will come up trumps and draw a picture of Mummy hitting Daddy with a frying-pan; more often, it is simply an opportunity for him to open up about feelings and perhaps uncover a long-forgotten memory.

I've always enjoyed colouring. It was one of my go-to pastimes on rainy days when I was little and even as an adult I've kept my crayons handy since before it was trendy - and long before I was aware of mandalas. A mandala is a spiritual or ritual symbol: a geometric shape that represents the universe, traditionally consisting of a square with four gates containing a circle with a centre point. It is used for focusing attention, for establishing a sacred space and as an aid to meditation. The essence of a mandala is in the act of its creation.

When we covered creating mandalas on my teaching diploma course, I was surprised how emotional it made me. Actually, it made me quite teary and I had to stop. I can't say the same happens when I'm shading in a multicoloured fish, but I do find it calming and it frees up my mind to go off on all sorts of unexpected tangents. In the spirit of the mandala, I don't keep my pictures once they are finished. Sometimes it's tempting to pin them up on the fridge, but then I remember I'm not a toddler.

If you've never tried creating a mandala (or you can't remember the last time you spent some time with your Crayola set), might I suggest you give it a whirl?

On the up

So the cold turned into something nasty and Christmas went on without me. Humbug! However, there's nothing like a couple of weeks of complete, albeit enforced, rest for making you realise what's important. It turns out that the world didn't come to a standstill just because I wasn't there to organise everything. Anyway, I'm fully recovered, just in time to go back to work. 

I've been thinking about sankalpa and this will be the theme in my lessons this week. I never make New Year resolutions, but it's good to set an intention, at least in vague terms. I've read on FaceAche this morning the phrase 'wear your life lightly', which is rather nice. That's what I'm going to do. I'm not going to sweat the small stuff and I'm definitely not going to be all things to all people. No, not me.

You might like to remind me of this in a few weeks' time.