Class #11: It's Interesting That I Don't Want to Teach

It struck me yesterday that I had no desire to teach Bikram, really.

Which is interesting as all get out to me, since in every aspect, every arena, every experience of my life, I have thought:

I could do this. I could do it like this. I would do it this way. I can see myself up there, and when I get there, I'd do it like this. I have spent entire vinyasa yoga classes running my own dialogue through my head; I have entered grad programs--yes, plural--and spent countless hours analyzing and rethinking and, let's be honest:

Snarking. Sadly, there is no other way to gloss it that is authentic; I may have thought about improvement, but it was really me saying, "I am better."

And really, was I even listening? All those hours, and jobs, and bosses, and programs, and classes? Was I even there, or was I waiting impatiently for my imaginary moment to shine and be seen?

Now, maybe the difference lies in the fact that I really am a teacher, and exquisitely, painfully aware of what it means to teach--of how hard it is, and how challenging it is to remain authentic and honest and open and turned out instead of in. Many have been the days when I drag myself to the car and drag myself home and make a something for dinner, too tired from the emotional life of school to think about anything. Many, conversely and of course and thankfully, have been the days when I feel like I'm getting closer and closer to my calling, where I could stay in a classroom forever, when I know what I'm doing is right the way rightness is meant to be...

But the point is that teaching is h-a to the capital effing RD. And when I get to class, and the excitement is building, all I'm thinking about is the giant 90-minute break hidden inside a hellaciously sweaty and almost-but-not-quite too hard experience.

In those 90 minutes, I just do. I do and I push and I stretch and try and fall and gulp and sweat, and maybe I check in with the thought that says, "nope, not this!" and try to make it eat itself--but I don't think. I don't plan. I'm just there.

And I think that's a really freeing thing for me. I set my intention and I throw myself off the bridge and I get through, however gracefully or ungainfully those 90 minutes prove themselves to be. I'm not a teacher. I am taught.

And I like that enough to not try to do anything else about it.