This Yoga Life My first experience of yoga was a class held in the crèche of my local YMCA. I convinced my mother we should try it out. “It’s stretching. It’s meant to be calming, we should go!” I enthused. “It’s free with our membership,” I added. She grimaced but drove us both to the evening class. The room was decorated with paper mache and kid’s paintings. There was a sea of tie-dyed harem pants and the strong smell of sweaty armpits and patchouli incense. The teacher wore pin-striped suit pants with a billowing oversized T-shirt, as if he was half business and half ready for bed. I hated it – I scurried out after an hour, congratulating myself for at least trying with yoga but certain this was Not For Me. About 5 years’ later I was working in marketing for another YMCA. My fitness regime was running, running, BodyPump, running and BodyStep. It was full-bore cardio and I was racking up little injuries, running on despite them, and feeling exhausted and yet compulsive about doing what I felt was necessary to be fit. In hindsight, I see that I wasn’t feeling worthy or comfortable in my own skin. I was seeking to run and run from having to question my values, my life, my work and relationships and to handle the fear of uncertainty in every aspect of life. “You should do yoga,” one of the personal trainers suggested one morning, as I powered along on the treadmill, staring into the outdoor pool and car park, bored out of my skull but determined to get to 13km at least. “Kristian’s really good. He’s really fun.” Fun? Yoga? I was sure that couldn’t be
so. But stretching would surely make me a better runner, I thought, and so I traipsed up the stairs to the upstairs studio and unrolled my mat. Indeed, Kristian’s class was fun. More than that though – it was challenging, it was athletic and wellpaced for beginners and intermediates. There were warriors galore; this vinyasa business was absolutely my style. It was like dancing but without the complex choreography and it felt purposeful. I am ashamed to say though, that for the next 2 years (yes, that long), in my need for speed and action and movement, I rolled up my mat and snuck out right as Savasana started more often than not. I just couldn’t be still – with my thoughts and my feelings – for five minutes. Still, 8 years later, I reflect that I learnt a lot from Kristian beyond a love of creative vinyasa flow and the essence of a light approach, making jokes, knowing everyone’s name, looking everyone in the eye during class. In not forcing me to stay for Savasana and in smiling at me as I snuck out, he allowed me not to feel guilty for leaving. He allowed me the space and the freedom to choose to stay in the end and to do the real work of yoga: to be still, to stay in the discomfort of my monkey mind and the vortex of energy that brings up memories, fears of the future, old hurts and realisations about my self. One of my favourite times now, as a teacher, is Savasana. I watch the students who happily flop into the mat and remain motionless until directed otherwise. I watch the students who rub at their nose, adjust the waist of their pants, crack open their eyes and glance at the clock or at their fellow students. I watch the students who glance towards their phone at the back of the room as if it’s a barking dog they need to attend to. And I know I have been each of these
students and whatever they do, this is the Savasana they need to have at the time. This is, as my beloved teacher Denise Payne would say, Waheguru (Wonderful Teacher). When Denise taught me the concept of Waheguru 2 years’ ago in a sweaty, humid 36 degree upstairs studio in Ubud, Bali, I felt an immediate lightness in my very centre. A little ripple of elation. The same excitement I still feel when a teacher introduces me to a yoga concept or principle that makes sense of the madness of living. Waheguru is embracing our own role as teacher to ourselves, and recognises the wonderful teacher in everything around us: the storm that erupts five minutes before you cycle into your driveway, the student who scowls at you for setting up in their usual spot, the fruit you’ve never tried before, the $500 parking fine, the teacher who cues you into a pose you’ve always suspected you can’t do. Waheguru. I have much to learn in yoga, but also much to teach. To you, readers, and to my students, and to myself, I commit to keep learning and I invite you to do so also. Waheguru.
Cat Woods is a Melbourne yoga vinyasa teacher. She is also a Pilates instructor and the founder of Ballet Sculpt, which combines barre, Pilates and resistance training techniques to build strength, mobility and flexibility, and ultimately to enable participants to become empowered through body awareness. Cat also works as a freelance journalist and blogger. Her website is at http://catwoods.me Email: cathwoods@gmail.com
ayl.com.au • March - May 2018
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