Mrs Angry

This morning, I was moved to complain in Morrisons about the rudeness of a member of staff. It was the person collecting trolleys from various bays around the car park and returning them to the trolley stable by the entrance to the store. It doesn't matter what he said; let's just say his attitude was appalling. I wasn't the only one put out.

Something had to be said because he needed to be told that his behaviour was unacceptable. Actually, I told him that myself, but he wasn't interested in my opinion.

Perhaps I was a little hasty. Maybe his feet were hurting or his dog had just died. No matter; you don't take your troubles to work, especially when you're dealing with the public. Anyway, lovely Lisa at the Customer Service desk took my concerns seriously and offered me coffee and cake in compensation. I was entirely satisfied by the way the matter was handled.

Then I came home to  write a yoga lesson plan and my book of Buddhist reflections that I sometimes turn to for inspiration fell open on this:

Never speak harsh words, for once spoken they may return to you.

Angry words are painful and there may be blows for blows.

Oops.

Sweet dreams

The trouble with being asleep is that you don't know what your body is going to do while you're not paying attention. It could emit all manner of noises.

I like my students to relax at the end of a class, but I always warn them that while it's OK to nod off I will wake them up if they start to snore. Despite what you might be thinking, it's actually quite rare for someone to go off so soundly that they don't wake themselves up with a surprise snuffle. Occasionally, though, there is a persistent rumble and it's not always easy to decide where it's coming from. I can tiptoe around the room getting as close as I dare to my yoga corpses, but just when I think I've located the culprit a snort will erupt behind me. Most disconcerting.

Usually a discreet stroke of the foot with my pen is enough to disturb the guilty party. Occasionally, though, I have to resort to a gentle shake of the shoulder. Best response to date came from a chap who was totally out of it, and as I roused him he brushed my hand away and said: 'All right, I'm coming, darling.'

And relax.

Sharing spaces

Image: Morguefile

I love all my students, of course, but some of the most rewarding reactions to my classes have come from people I've encountered in gyms. This is in part because I'm never sure whether they've come because they actually want yoga or because they're just having a go at every free class included in their membership package, so it's always pleasing when they seem to enjoy it and, better still, come back for more.

It's  not all sunshine and lollipops, however. The most challenging aspect is often the noise, because sports complexes, leisure centres and the like are busy places. It often takes all our yogic powers of concentration not to be distracted by excited children hurtling along the corridor to the swimming pool or a football squad being briefed by a barking coach just outside our door.

Also high on the list of challenges is the fact that timetables are often very tight. One class finishes at 10.45 and the next one starts at 10.45. You see the problem. Surely it's only fair that we teachers finish on time so that the next class can start on time and that we vacate the space as quickly as possible. I recently took over a studio from one of those pump-and-grind style classes, where the participants lingered to chat and the boom-boom-boom continued at full volume while my yogis tried to settle themselves for as prompt a start as we could manage. No one seemed in a hurry to leave, and the instructor looked quite affronted when I asked, 'Could you turn the music off, please?'

Sometimes I forget that not everyone lives by yoga manners.

Returning to the fold

It is almost a year to the day since I last posted on this blog (although my general blog Life, Yoga and Other Adventures is still going strong). I stopped because I didn't feel I had anything constructive to add to the yoga debate. You might decide that this is still the case. However, I plan to post here about once a week. I shan't be writing essays, but rather sharing little snippets with the odd photo or two.

And speaking of odd photos:

In my ridiculously large collection of yoga books I have one published in 1959 called Hatha-Yoga: An advanced method of physical education and concentration by Professor Shyam Sundar Goswami. I mean no disrespect to the good professor, but a glance through this book shows how things have changed over the last nearly sixty years, not least our yoga clothes.

Can you imagine the looks you'd get if you turned up to a class today dressed like this woman?

And what do you make of this fine fellow (right)? The caption reads: 'Beauty and power in relaxation'.

We might laugh, but I'm willing to bet it won't be long before we look back on our current penchant for multicoloured leggings with equal incredulity.

Facebook fury

OK, perhaps 'fury' is a bit strong, but I am a bit put out. You might have heard the discussion on the Today programme on Monday morning between Paul Fox, chair of the British Wheel of Yoga (of which I am a member) and Swami Ambikananda from the Traditional Yoga Association. The subject of the debate was the possible introduction of National Occupational Standards for yoga. This is not the place to go into the rights and wrongs of this; suffice to say it has been the hot topic in yoga forums in this country and beyond.

For many months now I have been in a closed group on Facebook just for  yoga teachers and with the aim of offering mentoring and support. It is supposed to be a nurturing, safe environment in which you can ask, for example, such and such happened in class and I didn't know what to do. Has anyone else experienced this? It is not supposed to be a general discussion forum, but understandably this BWY vs TYA topic has prompted a lot of interest. I put in my two-penn'orth, of course, but was responded to with such venom from some people that I have decided to leave the group completely. No great loss to them, but a huge relief to me.

The point of this story is that it made me realise how easy it would be to let this situation escalate into full-blown cyber-bullying. I'm sufficiently grown-up not to want to have the last word on this occasion, but I can quite see that once you start the ping-pong exchange of insults and abuse, matters could quickly get out of hand.

There is a saying oft quoted in yoga circles that we cannot control what other people do or say, we can only control our response to it. Good advice, no?

Yoga on a Sunday

Last few places remaining on Sunday's yoga session.

I hope you can join us (advance booking only)

Making space

Last night I taught a Wednesday evening yoga class for the last time. My other classes will carry on, but from next week this one will be in the capable hands of Claire.

I've been with this group for about seven years, which hardly seems possible. We've shared some good times. For instance, there was that memorable night in June when the council folk turned up at the school to set up for polling day and I forcibly evicted them for being noisy. Just because we're tranquil (ahem) doesn't mean you can push us around. Even last night, there was a funny moment when proceedings ground to a halt while a visiting spider was evicted, with considerably more care than the polling people, I might add.

Over the years, we've had news of new babies, weddings and other celebrations; and also some bereavements and other upsets. Through it all, my yogis have been loyal and turned up rain or shine to do some bending and stretching, some mindful breathing and some lying down.

I'm giving up this class to make space for other things, and it will free up quite a bit of time. It's not just the 90 minutes of the class itself, but also the half-hour either side for travelling and on-site admin: plus, of course the behind-scenes planning and follow-up paperwork. Perhaps I'll finally get round to writing that next yoga book. Watch this space.

Namaste.