I love TV. I've always loved TV. The only people who might love TV more than me are Mike Teavee and my sister.* Anyway, at one point, the focus of my ardor was Gilmore Girls. I would not take any phone calls while it was on, no talking was allowed during the episode, etc, etc.** So it's kind of surprising that I did not immediately jump on the Gilmore Girl's creator Amy Sherman-Palladino's latest show about ballet students, Bunheads. It probably has something to do with the fact that I am no longer a 14 year old girl. More on this after the jump.
*Seriously, my sister loves television to a scary degree. She has a journal from elementary school where she only wrote about TV shows we would watch after school while my parents were at work and we were watched by my doting grandmother. Who ALSO loves TV.
** The only other show I have ever been so serious about is Boy Meets World. A sequel of which is now being made about their CHILDREN. God, I am an old.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Friday, January 4, 2013
A Reflection on my Yoga Teacher Training
When I received an e-mail asking me to write about my yoga teacher training experience, I immediately had a vivid memory of the first session of my training. We were asked a similar question that evening, twenty-odd strangers sittings in a candlelit circle. "Why did you choose to do this?"
That night, I dutifully fell to my task earnestly and honestly. And then we were asked to share. Share! With a group of strangers! I was not ready to expose myself to these people. As the first person in the circle began to read from their journal, I frantically composed sentences in my head to say aloud instead of what I had written. I want to teach because I want to learn! Or I want to spread the joy of my practice to the world with a pageant smile. Content with that lie, I relaxed and anticipated my turn.
It would be a narrative device to say that I was the very last person to share and by the time it was my turn, my heart grew three sizes and I spilled my guts and that is what my teacher training means to me, blah blah blah. As it was, I was somewhere in the middle of the circle, and I was no yogi grinch, but listening to the others share openly did touch me a little. Not enough to reveal everything, but enough that when it was my turn, my voice wavered as I spoke these words of truth, "Because I need this."
That night, I dutifully fell to my task earnestly and honestly. And then we were asked to share. Share! With a group of strangers! I was not ready to expose myself to these people. As the first person in the circle began to read from their journal, I frantically composed sentences in my head to say aloud instead of what I had written. I want to teach because I want to learn! Or I want to spread the joy of my practice to the world with a pageant smile. Content with that lie, I relaxed and anticipated my turn.
It would be a narrative device to say that I was the very last person to share and by the time it was my turn, my heart grew three sizes and I spilled my guts and that is what my teacher training means to me, blah blah blah. As it was, I was somewhere in the middle of the circle, and I was no yogi grinch, but listening to the others share openly did touch me a little. Not enough to reveal everything, but enough that when it was my turn, my voice wavered as I spoke these words of truth, "Because I need this."
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