It had to happen eventually...

October 15, 2011
"Nothing makes the great spirit laugh harder than a man's plan."-MiddleFork River Guide

It had to happen eventually...teaching my first class. In June of this year Mat and I each completed a six month yoga teacher training led by two of my favorite teachers in the valley, Cathie Caccia and Pilar Tumolo. I will be the first to admit that I've been fearful of leading my first class, of feeling confident enough in MY voice to stand in front of people and teach them what I know.

Last night at the world premier of Warren Miller's "Like There's No Tomorrow", we decided to bite the bullet and go for it. We placed a small sign outside of the Airstream that said "Free Yoga". It was late, and who knows how many eyes glanced over the sign, but it was done, and we were committed.

The next morning, as we prepared our playlist and worked on our sequencing, we pondered how the class would go. Would twenty people show up? Or maybe no one? Which did we prefer? And then, there she was. Our student. That's right, singular. We were then presented with one of the great lessons of teaching. You never know how many students you are going to get, and you will especially never know WHO those students will be. There we sat, waiting for her to finish her cigarette and find her comfortable seated position.

When confronted with the question of "is there anything we should be aware of going on in your body", she replied, "well...I might be pregnant. I have very bad ankles and knees, and I get very dizzy." It was time to throw away the plan and start from scratch. You can imagine how the rest of the hour class that we cut to 45 minutes went.

Mati and I took turns sharing our favorite parts of the practice, stories, theories, and ideas. We had a great time co-teaching, and learned that we make a really awesome team in yet another aspect of our life. As the time passed on my heart continued to open wider and wider to this woman and her challenges in this life. I found myself yearning to feed her more of what I have to offer. At the end of the class I asked for her feedback. She said to me, "I really enjoyed your class. You HAVE a voice, and I can feel that it will get stronger. Be confident in that voice! Your healing is in your touch. Continue to develop that and you will do great things." We hugged and she went on her way. A way that is so different than my way-but there we were for a short time, united in supta baddha konasana, connected at the touch of my thumb on her third eye, releasing the worry from her brow.

I learned more from this first teaching experience than I ever could have imagined. It was a lesson in remaining free from judgment. A lesson in acceptance and patience, and in opening the heart to all beings. As a teacher, you may go into a class with a plan only to find that you will throw it out the window. I learned that you may have twenty people show up to your class, and that you may only have one. And if it happens to be one, be grateful for that time you have to give them all you have got.