Last Thursday, I was asked to sub a yoga class at a corporate facility. Sure, I thought. The opportunity slid in perfectly to my morning schedule following a personal training session. Then, I would have a break for home office time, then I had another class scheduled for the evening. The lovely thing about my schedule is the flexibility; the good-and-not-so-good is the unpredictability - a fine balance of planning, faith, juggling and presence.
Early Thursday morning, my 10a client called and cancelled due to illness. No problem, we rescheduled. I had an extra hour of office time before the yoga class, which is always a luxury because it gave me plenty of time to find the appropriate parking garage downtown and navigate the maze to the fitness center.
Once I figured out the correct set of elevators that actually took me into a building rather than up and down, up and down the parking garage floors, I found the studio space tucked away downstairs after passing through the locker room. I expect the challenges of parking and building security, but the rest that follows always surprises me.
I had about ten minutes before class started, found the stereo system, inserted my Karunesh cd, found an appropriate volume, signed the log-in notebook, and then I attempted to turn off the lights and fan. While I found the fan switch, I had a feeling the lack of light switches meant the bright bulbs were motion activated. Great.
I called the front desk, and sure enough, one of the club managers said that once we all got settled, the lights would go out. Sure, I thought once again - no problem. I grabbed my mat, some notes for class, and headed to my mat to wait on the members. A handful of people came in, and one young woman came without a mat. I directed her to the closet which was full of rolled green, turquoise, purple and pink mats.
Once class started, we fell into a warmup groove (subs have to get comfortable with new faces, and those new faces must accept the surprise of a sub!). I thought the next 45 minutes would breeze by...things felt fine. Yet, three more people came in five minutes later. The young woman who'd borrowed a yoga mat from the closet happened to be using the mat of the Tall Late Woman. The TLW towered over the young redhead and pretty much demanded the return of her mat. No sign marked the mats as personal - so after a clean, swift discussion that the mats were not for public use, the young redhead grabbed another person's mat (who never showed, thank goodness), and we got started.
We fell into another groove, and the lights went out. After warming up in Easy Pose with a variety of breath, shoulder, neck and posture work, we moved into Cat-Cow. And, the lights flipped on. Shoot! I told myself to breathe, go with the flow, and continued hoping the room would darken again (and for good) in a few minutes. After a series of opposite arm/opposite leg work, we rested in Child's Pose, and the lights dimmed again giving us a peaceful setting without glaring overhead lights. But, as soon as we started our breathwork with arm circles, the darn lights popped out again!
This light-on, light-off cycle continued throughout class. And, to frost the cake of the class, the lifters in the weight room upstairs neglected to squat to release their dumbbells and barbells - it sounded like a hundred He-Mans were pumping iron and dropping it upstairs. However, through our planks, downward dogs, warriors and triangles, I never lost that sense of hope for peace without bright lights and clanky booms, and we even laughed a little at the jolts of surprise. But, overall, my eyes and ears were taunted and haunted me to the end - I cringed at the lights and jumped at the iron falling upstairs.
Once class ended, and once I ran from one elevator to the other retracing my steps to my car, I remembered the small luxuries - the familiarity and safety of my car, my drive home filled with people watching on the streets, my four-hour break before my next appointment, actually touching Earth and inhaling fresh air after feeling a tinge of isolation and claustrophobia in the parking garage and building maze.
One might think a class filled with a little "that's-my-mat" drama and flickering lights would sour a person's day or experience of teaching yoga. But, the unfamiliarity and nerve-pinching surprises during that hour and a half actually grounded me. I stayed present and breathed through the nuisances trying my best to keep them at a safe distance from my sanity.
And, perhaps others might think "big deal" about the choppy class, but whether you are naturally a sensitive person or are a regular yogi, nuances as well as nuisances can trigger huge emotional spills. Tidal waves that drench your day if you don't keep them at bay.
So whether it's an interrupted yoga class or a day filled with late appointments, car issues, cancelled dates, forgotten phone calls, babies crying - take a step back and appreciate the fact these wrinkles keep you present. Let go of total control, recognize the beauty and predictability of change, appreciate the small blessings, and give thanks to the gift of breath.
I write this blurb after not being able to sleep after a long day. Usually, I plan for more balance, less pressure (I know me: I never claim to be Superwoman - I'm too sensitive for towering expectations). Yet - after five hour-long appointments at four different locations from 930am to 830pm - at the end of the day, I was naturally exhausted, yet early in the day I promised myself the gift of presence no matter how the day unfolded - lights, fans, moody participants, traffic, to-do lists. Luckily, my hour-to-hour, moment-to-moment mindfulness kept me present with myself and with my clients. Thankfully, my day graced by without wrinkles, spots or messes - the light shined in a good way!
Whatever might be happening in your day - keep things in perspective - go back to the basics: Breathe, don't take things too seriously, and know everything changes. One of my favorite quotes is by a healer in the book Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert: “To meditate,” he says, “only you must smile. Smile with face, smile with mind, and good energy will come to you and clean away dirty energy. Even smile in your liver.”
Early Thursday morning, my 10a client called and cancelled due to illness. No problem, we rescheduled. I had an extra hour of office time before the yoga class, which is always a luxury because it gave me plenty of time to find the appropriate parking garage downtown and navigate the maze to the fitness center.
Once I figured out the correct set of elevators that actually took me into a building rather than up and down, up and down the parking garage floors, I found the studio space tucked away downstairs after passing through the locker room. I expect the challenges of parking and building security, but the rest that follows always surprises me.
I had about ten minutes before class started, found the stereo system, inserted my Karunesh cd, found an appropriate volume, signed the log-in notebook, and then I attempted to turn off the lights and fan. While I found the fan switch, I had a feeling the lack of light switches meant the bright bulbs were motion activated. Great.
I called the front desk, and sure enough, one of the club managers said that once we all got settled, the lights would go out. Sure, I thought once again - no problem. I grabbed my mat, some notes for class, and headed to my mat to wait on the members. A handful of people came in, and one young woman came without a mat. I directed her to the closet which was full of rolled green, turquoise, purple and pink mats.
Once class started, we fell into a warmup groove (subs have to get comfortable with new faces, and those new faces must accept the surprise of a sub!). I thought the next 45 minutes would breeze by...things felt fine. Yet, three more people came in five minutes later. The young woman who'd borrowed a yoga mat from the closet happened to be using the mat of the Tall Late Woman. The TLW towered over the young redhead and pretty much demanded the return of her mat. No sign marked the mats as personal - so after a clean, swift discussion that the mats were not for public use, the young redhead grabbed another person's mat (who never showed, thank goodness), and we got started.
We fell into another groove, and the lights went out. After warming up in Easy Pose with a variety of breath, shoulder, neck and posture work, we moved into Cat-Cow. And, the lights flipped on. Shoot! I told myself to breathe, go with the flow, and continued hoping the room would darken again (and for good) in a few minutes. After a series of opposite arm/opposite leg work, we rested in Child's Pose, and the lights dimmed again giving us a peaceful setting without glaring overhead lights. But, as soon as we started our breathwork with arm circles, the darn lights popped out again!
This light-on, light-off cycle continued throughout class. And, to frost the cake of the class, the lifters in the weight room upstairs neglected to squat to release their dumbbells and barbells - it sounded like a hundred He-Mans were pumping iron and dropping it upstairs. However, through our planks, downward dogs, warriors and triangles, I never lost that sense of hope for peace without bright lights and clanky booms, and we even laughed a little at the jolts of surprise. But, overall, my eyes and ears were taunted and haunted me to the end - I cringed at the lights and jumped at the iron falling upstairs.
Once class ended, and once I ran from one elevator to the other retracing my steps to my car, I remembered the small luxuries - the familiarity and safety of my car, my drive home filled with people watching on the streets, my four-hour break before my next appointment, actually touching Earth and inhaling fresh air after feeling a tinge of isolation and claustrophobia in the parking garage and building maze.
One might think a class filled with a little "that's-my-mat" drama and flickering lights would sour a person's day or experience of teaching yoga. But, the unfamiliarity and nerve-pinching surprises during that hour and a half actually grounded me. I stayed present and breathed through the nuisances trying my best to keep them at a safe distance from my sanity.
And, perhaps others might think "big deal" about the choppy class, but whether you are naturally a sensitive person or are a regular yogi, nuances as well as nuisances can trigger huge emotional spills. Tidal waves that drench your day if you don't keep them at bay.
So whether it's an interrupted yoga class or a day filled with late appointments, car issues, cancelled dates, forgotten phone calls, babies crying - take a step back and appreciate the fact these wrinkles keep you present. Let go of total control, recognize the beauty and predictability of change, appreciate the small blessings, and give thanks to the gift of breath.
I write this blurb after not being able to sleep after a long day. Usually, I plan for more balance, less pressure (I know me: I never claim to be Superwoman - I'm too sensitive for towering expectations). Yet - after five hour-long appointments at four different locations from 930am to 830pm - at the end of the day, I was naturally exhausted, yet early in the day I promised myself the gift of presence no matter how the day unfolded - lights, fans, moody participants, traffic, to-do lists. Luckily, my hour-to-hour, moment-to-moment mindfulness kept me present with myself and with my clients. Thankfully, my day graced by without wrinkles, spots or messes - the light shined in a good way!
Whatever might be happening in your day - keep things in perspective - go back to the basics: Breathe, don't take things too seriously, and know everything changes. One of my favorite quotes is by a healer in the book Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert: “To meditate,” he says, “only you must smile. Smile with face, smile with mind, and good energy will come to you and clean away dirty energy. Even smile in your liver.”
