Learning to Teach

My flashcards

I have to take a written test this Sunday.  On yoga.  I haven't taken a test in four years since college!  I've been making stacks and stacks of flashcards.  Unfortunately, as I was an art studio major in college, I enjoy drawing a lot more than actually studying or taking notes.  My cards are pretty though!  So that has been my week.  Making flashcards, practice teaching yoga, actually doing yoga.  Not a bad life!

Wish me luck...

Guest post: I Am Not a Chair

Guest post from my sister, Christine, whom you all met yesterday...

"I am not a chair," I thought last Sunday during my weekly walk up a major avenue at night.  I breathed.  It was the first relief from all of the general anxiety that had led me to take this walk in the first place.  I was about to start my first full week at my internship, and a million thoughts were pulsing through my head, "Does this mean I'm staying in NY?  I'll need to find an apartment.  And a second job to rent that apartment."  And then the thought hit me, just as "I am not a chair," "I am not the city that I live in," "I am not the job I work."  

In yoga class the day before, when we went into Warrior 1, the teacher David said in his usual deadpan voice, "I hate to break it to you, but you are not a warrior."  I chuckled, and sighed an audible "aaaaw."  I really like pretending to be a warrior, especially the warrior in warrior 1, who has just been formed from a strand of hair.  (I also really like puffing up my chest during pigeon pose, and imagining myself as a cocky pigeon, chasing after a female pigeon relentlessly.)

While in a forward fold, David said to us, "When I say you are not a 'warrior' or a 'chair,' you say, 'duh.' But what if I say, 'you are not a woman,' 'you are not a 'man,' 'you are not a mother, a father, a daughter, or son.' You may be all of these things at one point in your life, but you are not any of those one things, or even the accumulation of all those things."

Huh.

Partnering

My sister (left) and me (right) doing yoga together!

Last week, I read this lovely post on Adult Beginner about prenatal yoga partner poses and it got me thinking.  I used to really, really, REALLY hate partner poses in yoga.  Touching sweaty strangers is one of the more unpleasant things I imagine doing.  This is one of the reasons (out of many) that I refuse to try Bikram; the thought of someone in a humid hot room getting their sweat on me makes me throw up in the back of my mouth a little.

That being said, when I started my yoga teacher training, I learned a few partner poses that I actually quite like.  In fact, there are a few that I love!  I've found that they can challenge me in different ways and even teach me something about my alignment in the postures.  And is touching someone in yoga the worst thing?  How does that song go?  Reach out and touch somebody's hand....

More on yoga partner poses that I love with photos after the jump!

Happy weekend - ZOMBIE YOGA!

I love zombies.  Zombies books, zombies movies, ZOMBIES!  My best friend and roommate also happens to love zombies.  Over the six years we have known each other, we have come up with quite an extensive detailed plan for the zombie apocalypse.  If the world turned into The Walking Dead tomorrow, you would want to be with us in a survival situation.

So imagine my delight when I found this ZOMBIE YOGA video this morning.  What?  It's not new to the internet, but it is definitely new to me.

Lila at Studio Anya

Studio Anya describes its Lila (pronounced “leela”) class as "Inspired by a Hindu concept meaning 'sacred play' &/or 'cosmic dance,' Our Lila class offers both!"  It promised to blend yoga, Tai-Chi and modern dance. How could I say no to that?  Eager to reprise my blissed-out YogaDance experience from over the weekend, I stopped by Studio Anya before ballet class on Tuesday to get my dance and play on.

I should have suspected that this was not going to be the woo-woo hippie experience that I was looking for when I noticed that there were exercise balls set up next to the barre.  By the time I was squeezing that ball between my thighs and pulsing my muscles to blasting pop music, I figured out that I had been tricked into WORKING OUT!