Beginner

Of everything I've felt in class, I keep being brought back around to humility. Sometimes, just the half-assed, "okay, let me tell you why I'm humbled" kind of humility. Other times, the more challenging "I will receive" kind. I've (mostly) let go of my totally Aries trait of competition. Of course, there are all kinds of unsavory things I wish I didn't identify with that I still do. Incidentally, I also haven't been going to Flow classes.

This weekend we got a terrific tutorial from Kim Fisch about teaching beginners. Again, since the training started I value the more Iyengar-y qualities of making everything parochial. As embarrassing as it is to admit, I realize I haven't even been performing asanas correctly. I don't mean half of them. Almost all of them. OK, broadcasting that hurts.

In any event, now I am absolutely terrified to teach beginners. Imagine feeling all kinds of anxious pride as you trot into your first class to teach. "I'm so excited to share this technology! Yoga changes your life!" (Read that as objectively as possible) Slowly, you realize that this class is the real world, full of real world yoga pedestrians, not just the cherry-picked kind from the covers of Yoga Journal.

Kim reminded me that your classes have to constantly shape-shift to accomodate people who might not be able to do child's pose or down dog, forget the rest of the script. How do you teach these bodies?

If I may include an anecdote: I was at the Iyengar Institute, trying my best. I was on a yoga tour of Los Angeles, so I'd been to maybe fewer than a dozen classes. I always remove my eyeglasses in class (for obvious reasons). I failed to duplicate a subtle adjustment the instructor was demonstrating. He then rushes over to me, steps on my hand and asks "What are you? Blind?"