Just a coincidence - probably

I met a friend today that I hadn't seen for a long time. She has a very particular set of skills relating to counselling, coaching and healing. It was lovely to see her. What made it all the more special was that I had been thinking about her for a couple days. Let's call her Carol.

Another friend (Elizabeth, for the sake of argument) is going through some tough times and I have been trying to find a way to help her, beyond offering a nonjudgemental ear and a hug. It occured to me that Carol could have just the resources that Elizabeth might benefit from. Strange, then, that Carol should walk back in to my life today - literally. I saw her walking towards me in the street.

I'm not a fanciful woman. I'm quite prepared to think that this was just a coincidence. It might even be that I'd seen Carol at the start of the week, but only registered it on a subconscious level. That would explain why I'd been thinking about her. Even so, odd that she should appear just when I needed her.

How Indian are you?

Don't worry: this isn't going to turn into one of those Facebook quizzes that show you what sort of a car you are, what film character you identify with or how much people love you. It's just that I've become aware of an increasing number of non-native Indians (as I heard Meera Syal call them recently) - that is, people who dress, speak and behave as though were born and raised in Mumbai when actually they come from Manchester.

I mean no disrespect, of course, but I wonder about the sincerity of those pure-bred Brits who build shrines to Hindu deities, sport a bindi and favour a flowing robe. Isn't it just a bit - you know - pretentious?

The best laid plans of mice and men...

... are filed away somewhere.

Are you a planner or a spontaneous person? Do you like to know what's coming or enjoy the thrill of the unknown?

Anyone who is even a passing acquaintance will know that I'm a bit of a control freak: OK, I'm bossy. I can't help it - and if you think I'm bad now you should have seen me before yoga worked its magic. I do try to live in the moment, honestly I do, but sometimes I really need to have all the details to hand before I can decide what to do next.

When it comes to lesson planning, I'm still following the template that I developed when I did my training. I'm no longer writing a word-by-word script, but I always have not just the topic but also the basics of the sequence written down before my lessons. I'll admit that sometimes I run out of time and have to resort to something handwritten, but even then it's pretty solid. That's not to say I don't vary the session in response to the mood and requirements of my students, but I'm always in control of where we're going.

I have been following a Face Book conversation about the joys of teaching without the safety net of a lesson plan. There are apparently some people who turn up with a theme in mind and then wing it. Rather them than me!

The authentic self

www.penguinclassics.com

This was the title of a workshop I went to on Saturday with the amazing Andrea Kwiatkowski, and it fitted well with the lessons I've been teaching (though I wouldn't claim to be anywhere near Andrea's level). We returned to the Bhagavad Gita, specifically Chapter 3, and more specifically still:

35: And do thy duty, even if it be humble, rather than another's, even if it be great. To die in one's duty is life: to live in another's is death.

Many's the time I turn in for bed with the thought that I've had a day of many hats: I've been yoga teacher, copy writer, music student, friend, wife, mother, head cook and bottle washer. This variety is what I love most about my life. I'm lucky enough to earn a living doing what I enjoy  and I have a lot of freedom about how I do it. Does that mean I'm leading an authentic life? I'm not sure: I still have moments when I catch myself thinking 'I don't want to be doing this'; but if we're going to be involved in society, surely sometimes we just have to grit our teeth and get on with stuff for the sake of the greater good.

Are you willing and able to let go?

Are you ready to fly?

Book 1 of the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali introduces vairagyam, non-attachment: 'The consciousness of self-mastery in one who is free from craving for objects seen or heard about is non-attachment.' This doesn't mean being disinterested, but rather it is acceptance of the philosophy that any practice without non-attachment is bound to fail.

I have been thinking about this in the context of my weekly classes. Am I too attached to my teaching methods? Am I reluctant to try something different or frightened to change gear in case my students leave? Am I doing them a disservice? More importantly, am I encouraging them to become attached to their practice and making it hard for them to find stillness of mind?

On a practical level, should I switch the class around so that they can't lie in 'their' spot? We're all creatures of habit, but unless we release those things we do on automatic pilot, is anything ever going to change?

We're all students

Source: kettering 50plus adventure club

Before I became a yoga teacher, I found it difficult to work on much of a home practice, but my Thursday evening class was sacrosanct. I rarely missed a week. Then I qualified. Now my home practice is daily, but I find it hard to get to a regular class. Certainly I go to plenty of IST days, but that's not the same thing at all.

That's why I'm grateful to teachers like Carrie who let me drop in and out of their classes. I don't often say that I'm a teacher when I attend as a participant (unless some asks the direct question), because I don't want to draw attention to myself. I don't want special treatment and I don't want people to watch me to see how I'm getting on. I like to sneak in at the back and do my thing.

I'm also lucky enough to have two regular students in my class, Angela and Claire, who are doing their teacher training at the moment. They pick my brains sometimes, which keeps me on my toes, but they are also a useful source of updated information and fresh perspectives on everything I thought I knew.

It doesn't matter how long you've been practising, there's always something to learn.

Why I haven't made any New Year resolutions

There is a school of thought that says you should start any challenge at the most difficult time - for example, go on a diet on a Friday so that you can get through the weekend when your resolve is strong. Wait until Monday, and by Saturday night you will be weak with desire for whatever your food fancy is. Other people say: no, do it when life is easy so you can get several successful days under your belt before you start to wobble.

I used to make resolutions when I was a child: be kinder to my little brother; do my homework on time; pick up my clothes off the floor before bedtime; then later it was the usual things like losing weight, getting fit, cutting down on the tea and biscuits. I never lasted much beyond February.

My yoga classes start again tomorrow after the Christmas break. I've already had quite a few enquiries from newbies wanting to join us, and I shall be glad to see them. However, I'm expecting that many of them will come for a few weeks and then something will stop them: they are too tired after work, the children need help with schoolwork, they forgot to eat at lunchtime and can't wait until after the class for their supper, or it's too cold to venture out. These are all valid excuses.

What works for me is to set weekly or sometimes even daily targets. It's easy to begin each morning by saying 'I shall go for a walk today' than to resolve to take a daily walk for a year. It's too much to ask, too big a target.

This week I shall be asking my students to consider a sankalpa, an intention just for that one class. This might be as simple as 'I shall open my heart and mind to what this session has to offer.' I shall be doing the same myself.