Nobody likes a show-off

Let’s be honest; we all like to show off from time to time, whether it’s beaming proudly as you bring a fabulous pie out of the oven to Oohs! of admiration or singing out on karaoke night. But you would think that the one place you could expect modesty and self-restraint would be in a yoga class.

I must hold up my hands and say that sometimes when I’m demonstrating a posture, the thought comes into my head that my students might think I’m rather good at it. I know, I know. There shouldn’t be room in my mind or heart for such ego, but I don’t always get it right; and in my defence, I don’t start by saying: ‘Watch what I can do!’

I mention this because I’ve had a couple of strange experiences on yoga study days. On one occasion, I went to a teacher-training session on integrating philosophy into a general class. I was expecting some physical practice, but knew the day was going to be largely theory. Therefore, as I arrived I was rather surprised to see one woman turned upside-down in the middle of the room with each shoulder perched precariously on a different chair and her head dangling towards the floor between them. I could only wonder why. 

Another training day saw a group of us grappling with the intricacies of Marichyasana, that deep forward bend that involves one straight leg, one bent and the hands clasped behind the back. We talked all round it and then experimented with modifications and the use of props. In the discussion session after the practical work, one of our number raised her hand and said she wasn’t sure she was feeling what she should and could we take a look at her. I wasn’t the only one whose jaw dropped as she eased herself effortlessly into the posture. Now, perhaps I’m being uncharitable and she might genuinely have had issues, but all I heard was: ‘Look at me! Look at me!’

Ego is a tricky fellow. An inflated sense of self leads to pride and arrogance. A weak ego needs constant reassurance, but a strong one allows us to feel confident in ourselves, aware of our shortcomings yet secure enough to accept and work with them. Egoism is one of the fine obstacles (klesas) explored in the Patanjali’s yoga sutras. It’s a tough one to overcome.

Let's chant

Over the years I've been to lots of different classes that have incorporated elements of chanting and various workshops dedicated to the exploration of mantra and kirtan. However, last night I had a new experience when I joined a group of people to chant just for the joy of it.

There was no lengthy explanation of what the words meant or practising of the 'tune' beforehand: we just did it. After a short pranayama to settle us, we had a few quiet breaths then someone led us into some Om repetitions. A pause, then another person led something - and so on for about an hour. It reminded me of a Quaker meeting, where there is no structure to a gathering and anyone can step up when moved to do so. Some of the chants were unfamiliar and during those I simply sat and listened, which was a rare treat. Some were call and response; for others we just jumped in when we were ready. It was spontaneous and natural.

It reminded me that there is so much more to yoga than the physical practice.

Same journey, different path

As a yoga teacher, I feel duty bound to come up with something very profound to accompany this picture, taken at my allotment. The plant on the left is a tap-rooted thistle; the one on the right is a puny parsnip. They were pulled out from the same patch of soil on the allotment where they had been growing side by side.

It is a source of great frustration that the weed, which I don't want, has found its way downwards unimpeded by stones, while the parsnip, which I do want, has become stunted and deformed because it couldn't grow round a pebble.

OK, here's a bit of tongue-in-cheek philosophy for you: are you like the plant that keeps going straight and true whatever life throws at you; or are you like the one that gives up at the first sign of trouble?

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

There was a message waiting for me from Google when I came to my blog this morning:


'European Union laws require you to give European Union visitors information about cookies used on your blog. In many cases, these laws also require you to obtain consent. As a courtesy, we have added a notice on your blog to explain Google's use of certain Blogger and Google cookies, including use of Google Analytics and AdSense cookies. You are responsible for confirming that this notice actually works for your blog and that it is displayed.'

I mention this because you might have seen a  message at the top of this post asking you to consent to the use of cookies. Rest assured that I am not following your every move behind the scenes. I have no idea how to embed tracking software into my words - wouldn't do it even if I could.

Nice use of the phrase 'as a courtesy', don't you think? Thanks, Google.

Recharging my batteries

I love teaching, but it takes a lot of energy and for the last week I've felt as though I was running on empty. Time, then, for some restorative action.

With this in mind, I spent most of yesterday in my garden, potting and pottering, planting and moving, and generally tidying up - though not too tidy, because I want to encourage bugs and critters wherever I can. My little pond is teeming with life at the moment, and there are bees and other flying friends everywhere. I got very hot and grubby and had a splendid time.

Then I rolled out my mat and did an instinctive practice under the lilac tree, followed by a spot of meditation. I rounded things off  with a yoga nidra from the CD of my friend and fellow teacher Jeanette, from Phoenix Wellbeing: lovely stuff.

I also caught up on some yoga reading (still outside), including the summer issue of Spectrum, the members' journal from the British Wheel of Yoga. I particularly enjoyed the philosophy feature on 'Green Yoga' by Mandy Brinkley, in which she writes about the connection between yoga and living in an environmentally aware, responsible and sustainable way. She has introduced me to a quote from the Athavara Veda: 'Whatever I dig from the Earth, may it have quick growth again.' Most appropriate for my day.

You wear it well

Age is a funny business. When we’re children, we want to be taken for older than we are. Remember those milestones: double figures and then, finally, those longed-for teenage years? We flushed with pride when someone said, ‘You look so grown-up.’

At some point, perhaps as the laughter lines start gathering at the corners of the eyes, we start to deny the passage of time. We want people to think that we are younger than we are – or, failing that, to be told we look good for our age. The thing is, of course, that most of us are wearing well, especially we yogis.

I don’t know if it is improvements in lifestyle or simply changing expectations, but if you look at photos from the Edwardian era, everyone seemed like a pensioner. It’s as though there were no degrees of adulthood. Once you were married and had fulfilled your role by ensuring the family line continued for another generation, that was it. You put your hair in a bun, wrapped a rug around your knees and waited for it all to end.

Somewhere along the way, we switch from focusing on youth to wearing our age like a trophy.  I’m sure we all know people who say proudly, ‘I’m 85, you know!’ not in a way that implies we are meant to make allowances for them, just the opposite: we are expected to respond with incredulity.

The young and the old are allowed to speak as they find. In my last post, I said that children don’t hold back when it comes to verbalising their observations. I had a similar experience when teaching in a care home, where one of the elderly residents was less than impressed. After about five minutes she’d had enough. ‘I’m going back to my room,’ she declared. ‘This is just getting on my nerves.’ Bless her for her honesty.

One of the joys of yoga is that you can’t be too young or too old. Let’s not get hung up on the numbers, but instead let’s celebrate what we can do, whatever it says on the calendar.