Well, there you go. The best intentions of chronicling my months during my first yoga teacher training produced the meager fruit of just four posts. Including this one.
Throughout the process, I have written fragments of ideas: scattered seeds for new blog entries that never received the proper care and nourishment to grow into anything more. Perhaps one day (hopefully sooner than later), you might enjoy the end product of those little blog post scraps.
We finished the course last night- cramming a weekend’s worth of material into a single day, thanks to the blizzard that enveloped the East Coast this weekend.
Boston braces herself for Nemo.
The first few hours consisted of the practicum teaching session: one lengthy and physically demanding sequence in which each student teaches the class for five minutes, round robin-style. Though slightly nerve-wracking to have a mere five minutes to convey all that you’ve absorbed over 200 hours, it was a gratifying experience. It was incredibly inspiring to observe my fellow classmates take the helm at the front of the class, confidently and adeptly leading us through a difficult sequence which included both advanced inversions and backbends. Moral support and energy were both running high.
Following the two-hour written exam, we closed the practice in a candle-lit session in which we each revealed which of Patanjali’s Sutras has most affected us. It was one of the most honest and uniting experiences we spent together. It also served as a reminder that, at its core, yoga is not merely a physical practice; its true purpose is in the mental and spiritual realms.
When we plant a rose seed in the earth, we notice that it is small, but we do not criticize it as “rootless or stemless”. We treat it as a seed, giving it the water and nourishment required of a seed. When it first shoots up out of the earth, we do not condemn it as immature and underdeveloped; nor do we criticize the buds for not being open when they first appear. We stand in wonder at the process taking place, and give the plant the care it needs at each stage of it’s development.
The rose is a rose from the time it is a seed until the time it dies. Within it at all times, it contains its whole potential. It seems to be constantly in the process of change; yet at each state, at each moment, it is perfectly alright as it is.
-W. Timothy Gallwey, The Inner Game of Tennis
I am now trying to stay present- no worrying about the future or becoming attached to any expectation of what is to come. Though this particular experience has come to an end, I know it is the beginning of a lifelong journey of exploration and learning. For now, I am savoring these feelings of gratitude for the wonderful people I have met; of thankfulness for this life-changing opportunity; and of excitement, for what comes next.
Congratulatory gifts from a dear friend.