Tag Archives: yoga teacher training

Thank God for Miracles!

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Today I accomplished two of three
big things I had to get done this weekend.
One remains. The biggest one.
I’m leading a four hour training
teaching yoga teachers
how to teach restorative yoga.
I was getting myself geared up
to feel anxious and down on myself
for leaving the prep
until the last moment,
and then
I remembered
the way we talk to ourselves really matters.
I remembered
criticism withers
and praise builds us up.
I decided to be nice to myself.
I decided it could be pleasurable
to prepare this training
for those who are attending.
I realized that the procrastination is a habit
and so is the self-recrimination…
and I can choose to change it…
all of it.
I prayed.
I prayed to give my trainees
the tools they need
to add the most value
to their students’ lives.
Spirit whispered in my ear…
and I followed the orders I was given.
I went into my old laptop
and discovered a handout
I prepared years ago
with all the information
I want to share with my trainees tomorrow.
So…I don’t have so much prep to do after all.
Thank god for all miracles, big and small!

The Real Learning Begins

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The last day of advanced yoga teacher training
came and went.
One weekend a month
for nine whole months
felt like such a commitment
at the beginning,
but today it was over, just like that.
While a fair grouping
of my fellow trainees
blew it up on social media,
posting digital collages of their certificates,
moments from today,
cheesy poses and big smiles…
I just hugged a few friends and walked away.
I didn’t feel a need to say,
“Look!  Look at me!  Look at this!”
My inner celebration was enough for me,
and I sat with it on the drive back home,
thinking, Yay! I did it! It’s over.
My husband, mom and sister
had baked eleven dozen ginger cookies;
the house smelled like heaven.
My kids were watching a Christmas movie.
There was no red carpet rolled out for my arrival
as a certified advanced yoga teacher
but I didn’t want a red carpet–
I just wanted to gather my children up
and tell them how happy I was to see them.
I won’t take a picture of my certificate;
it is a piece of paper.
It means nothing, really.
The training is over,
now the real learning begins
as I leave the safe confines of
our classroom
and live the yoga I have learned.

Letting Go

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Tomorrow is the last day of my 500 hour advanced yoga teacher training, which started way back in February. It probably sounds super cliche, but the time really has flown by. I am met by ambivalence, so many swirling thoughts and feelings about the end of our time together. On one hand, I’ll be so grateful to have more time with my family; one weekend a month adds up over time, and my husband has expressed on more than one occasion how’ll grateful he’ll be when the training is over. On the other hand, I have so thoroughly enjoyed being in the presence of so many bright and talented yoga teacher colleagues that I don’t want to let them all go back to their normal lives, never to be seen again.  I was writing about this ambivalence in my journal tonight, and a thought came to me about letting go:

 

You can let go 
the way dandelion seeds let go
of their fluffy white sphere
of collective sameness,
each seed becoming an individual,
floating where fate will take it.

And you can let go
the way skin lets go
of a nearly healed scab
torn from it…
new blood, new pain
making room for
a new sort of healing.

Neither way is better than the other.
Which do you choose?

Letting It Be Enough

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Day two of teacher training for this month is over.  I arrived home after 9pm; I left the house this morning at 8am.  That’s a long time to be away from home, away from my two babies.  In that time away, I taught a yoga class, had lunch, and spent eight hours learning more about yoga teaching with my fellow trainees.

Both of my kids were already asleep when I arrived; again I felt the waves of wistfulness at not seeing them, holding them, being there to tuck them in at bedtime.

I wonder if I’m learning everything I can in the training.  I wonder if this was the right choice, to sign away a whole weekend every month from now until December so that I can enrich my teaching.  Is this enrichment worth the price I pay in time away from my family?  I know my struggle is not uncommon.  I have read and heard about countless moms who have wanted to maintain a successful career and be a successful parent at the same time.  Where’s the balance point?  When does it become too much work?  Why does family life end up not feeling fulfilling enough to just stay at home, to be present to these people closest too me?  Why do I seek more?  Should I want to feel fulfilled solely in my role as wife and mother?  Is my wanting to have time outside of the house selfish?

Looking for that balance point…up to me to decide where it lies.

Knowing that there are no cut and dry answers to these big questions, I choose in this moment to let it all be enough.  The effort I put in to this day, effort to be mother, wife, teacher, and student; effort to be caring, kind, and considerate; effort to give; effort to be real, to learn–even if some part of my mind tells me I could’ve done better, I choose in this moment to let my efforts be enough for this day.  Some softness, some compassion for this Lorien who tries so hard to be good.  Some acknowledgement that I have done enough, and now I can let myself rest.  Acknowledgement that I am enough, I can let this self rest.

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I tell my students all the time:

There is no goal, no finish line
No plan, no project, no agenda
No right or wrong,
Nothing to change or fix…
Nowhere else to go, 
Nothing else to do, 
but to just be here and breathe, well…

To breathe, to be present in this moment,
you can let it all be enough,
just for this moment.

In that space of allowing self to be,
Now there is the possibility
of flowing joy and contentment.

The struggle is swept away,
The burdens are eased,
and we come back home to this moment.

Let me practice what I preach.
Let me see myself as enough.
Let me breathe and remember
this perfect, unchanging
awareness that expands infinitely,
making more room to hold itself,
inviting presence to come back home,
in this just enough moment.