From Insecurity to Strength

“And return your hands to heart’s centre,” I said with an inaudible sigh of relief. With that, I concluded my first official yoga teaching act.

Guiding all thirteen Sadhakas through a sun salutation was our first and only task in the inaugural session of the Teacher Training Program. Some of us yogis in training had shaky voices, some skipped a step, and others said “inhale” when we all should have exhaled. We’re all new at this, but we managed to make it through the first week.

Yoga practitioners arrive at their mats from a diverse array of life experiences, and the same can be said for aspiring instructors. My class is comprised of a marketing specialist, a law student, a recent university grad, and an engineer. And then there’s me—the wayward, under-employed twenty-something who’s trying to find her place in the world.

I’ll admit it, I wasn’t feeling great about myself heading into the course. Being surrounded by fellow students with so much going on in their lives made my life of getting up at the crack of 10am only to watch last night’s episode of The Daily Show seem rather, well, unaccomplished. I mean really, how can I compete with the girl next to me who wakes up at 5:30, goes to work for nine hours, does five yoga classes a week, and still seems to maintain a healthy social life?

And then came the dreaded introductions. You know what I’m talking about—it happens any time a group of people gathers for the first time. You’re compelled to explain yourself in a matter of seconds, to put yourself out there for all to see. After hearing about the lives of an event coordinator and a corporate financial something-or-other, it was my turn. There was nowhere to hide, so I figured honesty would be the best approach.

I said I had arrived in the class after having left a spirit-crushing work atmosphere in early January, and that since I had figured I had the time to devote myself to something I love and because I had the desire to delve deeper into my practice, I thought to myself, why not do the training now?

Turns out I wasn’t the only one searching for a path. There was the recent university grad who found herself hating her chosen career and evaluating her options. Then, there was the not-for-profit girl who’s considering abandoning her profession in search of her passion.

Clearly, there’s something that led us all to be in this class at this time. We’re looking for something more, something deeper, something that connects us to ourselves and those around us. Something that goes beyond the trivialities of daily existence, no matter what that existence entails.

And despite all of the apparent differences, there’s one uniting factor: our commitment to yoga. In that regard, no one’s ahead or behind. I realized that the quest to becoming a yoga teacher should not be burdened with one's ego or drive for competition. It should be a mutually supportive and empathetic journey.

At the end of the first week my hamstrings feel stretched beyond what’s natural, the spots between my arms and chest (which I’m sure I’ll learn the proper name for shortly) have been rendered immovable from countless Chatarungas, and my mid-back is opening in a way I didn’t think was possible. I can feel the rumblings of old habits and behaviours breaking up, and I can sense a quiet pulse of strength getting louder.

I can only wonder at what my body and mind will go through over the remaining weeks. I’m just glad to have twelve other pillars for support.