Saturday, May 21, 2011

"The Question"

"Do you still feel like you don't want to teach?"  "Are you going to teach?"...etc.

I think I'm going to stop answering, "the question."  In all its forms.  Not because I don't think the answer will never change.  But because I want it to be able to.  To be clear, that is not saying, "Yes, I actually, really do."  What I mean is that it's an option that I want to keep open, to keep available.  Natasha (the main person leading my training) loves to repeat a quotation from the Upanishads:


    Watch your thoughts, they become your words,
    Watch your words, they become your actions,
    Watch your actions, they become your habits,
    Watch your habits, they become your destiny.

 I've been asked "the question" so many times, and I've felt so resistant simply to the idea of teaching for so long, that it feels like it is starting to become habit for me to respond, "no" whenever I'm asked; even though I'm not feeling quite as resistant to it as I have been.  But I keep saying it.  Partly because the idea does still scare me, and I'm not sure if it is something I definitely want to do.  And because part of me is still just fighting the idea of teaching.  Probably because I was asked "the question" so many times before the thought of me teaching even entered my mind; like I was being pushed towards doing something "I didn't want to do."  So, because I've been resisting that perceived "push" for so long, it's kind of like it's just my automatic response, in the hopes that people will leave me alone and just drop the subject so that I can have my own experience, without anyone dictating what it "means."  Even though a different part of me is starting to feel more comfortable with the idea.  It's as though, now I can start to imagine myself in some kind of that form.  Whereas, before, I couldn't even visualize it.

And I feel like every time I respond in the "no" form--out of fear or just adamant resistance/rebellion--I close that door.  And I've finally realized that it's not a door that I want "closed" forever, as my "destiny."  Because, even if "I never teach yoga," there's a whole set of skills that come with learning how to teach something--whatever that may be.  To be able to translate what you know--inherently--in your own body and mind into information that other people can understand and use is a skill that can carry over into MANY other parts of your life.  Not to mention give you a deeper level of your own understanding.  For example, today, we had to practice teach again.  Just in pairs, one pose, on the spot--no preparation.  And every time, in that scenario, part of my brain locks down and I can't describe what I'm doing and what I know how to do.  Even as I'm doing it!  My words just won't come out, even though I know, somewhere inside my brain, exactly what to say.  I just can't seem to access it, it's blocked.  Again, even if "I never teach yoga," having the skill to move past blocks like that is HUGE.

I just feel like every time I say, "no, I'm not going to teach...no, I don't want to teach"--or even every time I think it--I keep closing that door to the experiences and skills that I could gain from even just learning how to teach.  As though just thinking, "oh, I'm never going to teach/I don't want to teach, so I'm just not going to worry about not understanding ________," rather than exploring it further.  It's like what Natasha said this evening before we left about the quiz that we are going to have tomorrow which she is never going to see (collect or grade), "study for the quiz like it matters."

So, I'm not going to answer "the question" with any sort of definite answer anymore.  I don't know how things are going to turn out or how I'm going to feel in 3 months when this training is over.  Or in the months following it.  This is something that has captured my complete attention for almost 2 years and is something that I love, so I am going to explore it to the fullest extent that I can.  That's my answer--that's my "intention."  A sort of guide that will hopefully lead to great experiences, deep learning and, maybe, even to some "real answers."

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