Warning: Adult language ahead.
I’ve been teaching yoga for 10 years.
As a teacher, I’m humble. I’ve noticed how I sheepishly turn my head from the “good class!” comments. I turn away, because my sensitive ego is shy, and also because I had nothing to do with that person’s class.
As a teacher, I am a conduit. No one class I teach is the same. I feed off of the students in the room. In a sense, I channel their highest selves.
Yoga means union.
Yoga connects.
Yoga puts together the broken pieces of our wounded and separated selves. It puts them back in order and reminds us that we were never really broken.
So, to me, a bad class is just as sacred as a good one.
Bad and good are dualistic thinking. True yoga takes away duality. It melds it into a beautiful oneness that has no strong aftertaste. Instead, we walk out feeling a calm and steady peace.
Peace has no true color, creed or odor. It just is.
We, just are.
I have faced my ego so many times on the mat and in front of the classroom. And its ugly head roars at me when students walk out, eyes rolling, blaming my cues for their head trips.
Some of my “best” classes as a student were the times I cursed the teacher.
Why?
Because the asana and their words triggered a release. That release may have at first felt like a, “Fuck you! Why are you keeping me in this awful asana for so long?”
And then it fucked me so good, I left feeling renewed.
Yoga fucks with you. It fucks you inside and out. Hard and soft. Up and down, from the back and in positions you could have never imagined in your ego mind.
Because your ego is so small and meek and frightened of everything, it can’t imagine the truth.
Yoga can.
As a teacher, I’m constantly being tested. I see students roll their eyes in a pose and I sometimes still try not to take it personally.
Because, deep down, I know: It’s not about me.
It’s about them.
I’m holding space for them. And, if they judge me or chastise me, or love me and worship me, it matters not.
It’s about them, and not me.
It’s about the practice and not the personality.
And in the practice we face ourselves—the good, the gorgeous and the grotesque.
And seeing ourselves is sacred.
So after every class, after I say, “namaste,” I say within:
“I gave enough. I did enough. I am enough.”
And end with my favorite prayer:
“May all beings be happy, healthy and free from suffering.”
Teaching is humbling.
It is a practice.
It is yoga.
Just like life.
~
Author: Sarah Lamb
Image: Sarah Lamb/Instagram
Editor: Travis May
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