Wayward yogini finally begins teaching

Extra Extra, read all about it! Wayward Yogini finally teaches her first yoga class! Get the story here!

This reporter was lucky enough to catch up with Sue on her first day teaching at The Healing Shala in Cool, CA. Between classes, we were able to sit together at Cool Beerwerks (amazing sushi, not to mention the beer) on the corner of 49 and 193, discussing the trials and tribulations of becoming a yoga teacher at the age of 64. 

Haha, no reporter interviewing me, and much sadder, I wasn’t enjoying that amazing sushi that Cool Beerwerks serves. Still, nonetheless, I was feeling incredibly proud of my 64-year old self to pursue and persevere with this goal of mine. For those who haven’t followed my blog Tales of a Wayward Yogini for the last two years, the quick version goes like this.

I had been devoting much time to my elderly mother for many years. After her passing a few years back, I made a promise to myself to devote the following year to regaining my health.

I returned to a love of mine, yoga. And somewhere in the following few months, I began to tell Rick I wanted to become a yoga teacher in our little town, putting one of the many vacant storefronts in town to good use. It was just a pleasant fantasy, but what I was serious about was getting back in shape. The studio I began practicing at had a yoga teacher training class scheduled the following February. Perfect. I figured regardless of whether I ever became a teacher, the class would provide a jump-start for this aging, somewhat neglected senior body. 

While I wasn’t clear at the beginning of the class whether I would ever teach, by the end, I did see my path, and it did include teaching yoga. I had some hurdles, though. I was starting a new job, which took priority because, oh yeah, it was paying my bills. Most jobs take about a year to hit your stride, and this job was no different. So I took any pressure to start teaching yoga right off my plate! Boom… gone! 

But… in my quiet moments, I often wondered if I was just making excuses because I was afraid to take that leap, and expose my soft underbelly (one of my favorite expressions). Even though I took yoga off my plate, I still definitely gave myself some grief over the subject of teaching. In the end, I told myself that I had legitimate reasons for waiting: 1) I was learning my new job, 2) I was working on my blog as well as my upcoming book, and 3) I was simply afraid. They were all excellent reasons.

Remember the vacant storefront windows in Cool I mentioned earlier? Well, seems another yoga enthusiast Jennifer had similar thoughts. And while I worked on securing employment and writing, she did what I would have liked to do. She remodeled one of them, creating a sweet little yoga studio. She was even kind enough to select colors and styles I like, new laminate flooring, soft subtle colors, and the cutest sliding door. 

I found it about six months ago. I attended a class, even spoke with Jennifer about doing karma classes on Saturdays to get started, and then I disappeared without a trace. Apparently, I wasn’t ready yet. I let that be okay. 

About a month ago, I decided it was time to find some yoga teachers close to home. I love returning to the studio I trained at, but it’s an hour’s drive, and I just can’t manage that often enough. I studied the web and found a studio just down the road in Georgetown, a ten-minute drive down our country roads. I read up on the teachers and saw a woman Lynette that sounded like someone I would have a lot in common with. I made my way to Georgetown and then spent 20 minutes driving in circles. Turns out, the studio no longer exists.

But Lynette still exists thankfully, and I found that she was teaching at, you guessed it, the new little Cool studio. I was there the following Monday to attend her restorative yoga class, and again the Monday after that. By the end of my second class, I had a plan in mind of teaching a second restorative class at the studio to compliment her class. I happened to hear a student asking if there was another restorative yoga class during the week. There wasn’t. By the following week, we were sharing a glass of wine in Lynette’s kitchen. Just as I had somehow known when I read her bio, we found much in common. The following Monday night, I attended a meeting at the studio and committed to teaching my first yoga class beginning early April. 

It was an interesting lesson for me. For two years, I have felt my reluctance had to do with fear. And it did. But after seeing how easy this went together for me, I realize that my hesitation had more to do with finding the right fit, which was a lesson about trusting myself.

I of course manipulated a few months to get ready committing to April 3rd, can you blame me? And Lynette, somehow already my cohort, changed that up on me and asked if I could sub for her earlier than that so she could go visit her ailing 90-year old father. Really? How could I say no?

So there you have it, I subbed for her and taught my first two classes. It was actually lovely. I had five students in the first class, which for Cool, is pretty good. I thought transparency was a good thing, especially in yoga, so I admitted to them it was my first class. They all rallied around me. So sweet. 

The drive to class, though, was thought-provoking. I had somewhat luckily calmed my nerves. But on that 10-minute drive, I felt like I had put on someone else’s clothing. More accurately I felt like I was in a very uncomfortable costume. It was a palpable feeling. I didn’t feel afraid so much as just uncomfortable. The saying “uncomfortable in your own skin” fit perfectly. I tried to shake it off without much success, but before I knew it, I was at The Healing Shala, and the feelings would need to take a backseat. It was time to teach.

The following night when I was supposed to be sleeping, I was instead writing this post in my mind during the wee morning hours. It was only then that I could take the time to process those feelings. Anything new feels uncomfortable. And it stays uncomfortable for a while. But there comes that day when you own it. Your body no longer feels the anxiety. Your brain stops second-guessing your every move, and you rock it.

I’m looking forward to that one day.

Thinking about hashtags for my pics on Instagram, I’m thinking #whatageistooold? #64onherwaytorockin’it and #plentyoftimeGodwilling. Positive thoughts welcome on April 3rd.

The Wayward Trail

So many thoughts going through my mind this week on such a wide variety of subjects.  Last night was the first time in a while I awoke with my brain racing, and as sweetly as I tried to coax my inner voice, she would not settle down and go back to sleep.  She had a map to work on (these days she’s got 24-7 to figure these things out, you think she’d get a clue that the middle of the night is not optimal.)
It seems that the universe has decided this is the window to make plans to move forward on my dreams.  While I’ve tried to argue that I wasn’t quite ready for a number of reasons … still so emotional and a bit raw after the last few weeks, it seems Lady Destiny isn’t willing to wait … a blessing and a curse.  I have moved through this last week putting one foot in front of the other, so completely unsure of the terrain and whether my walking shoes would be up for the trek, but just listening to my gut, and taking a chance … remembering my yoga hike and the lesson that I could put one foot in front of the other uphill … even when I didn’t think I could, struggling for each breath.
Interesting how the breath works its way through every yoga move, and nowadays all the movements of my life, my choices, my triumphs, and sadly my sorrows.
My wayward journey continues and the further I travel down the path, the more enchanted I become.  Yet I still struggle every step of the way with the “shoulds.”  My dear friend, Ron, that I’ve spoken of in prior posts, used to teach that when you hear yourself say “I should,” it often times means it is something you might want to reconsider, as it’s usually not a choice of your heart.  It’s a condition you have decided you need to act on, many times out of guilt.  Not a great reason to do much.
I can become so confused pulled toward an old belief.  I think of the early settlers risking everything for their dreams, and I mean everything, including their loved ones.
I have it easy, I’m leveraging nothing more than money and a bit of comfort and stress, small prices for realizing a dream.
As hard as I try to gravitate to new music, I return to my Kenny, One Chance at a Life, as I write and think and process and decide … will it be a return to comfort or will I take the chance.
I think of Kenny’s lyrics, endless second chances and I question the heavens above, reminding God that I made the swan dive, I chose the new life, I held my breath and jumped, and I still have to make the choice again and again. (Really?)  I find that so interesting, and as much as I hate it, I love it.  I am being tested and questioned again and again the last month or so … Sue, are you really ready to make this choice?  In so many words, that’s what the universe has sent to me.  And believe me I have waivered, which is why I believe the question keeps recycling.    ”For love and money I’ve made a lot of dumb mistakes in  my time,” another Kenny line.
I have been so tempted to take the easy road.
But today, this day, I feel a pull, a renewed ever so strong pull, or maybe a breeze to help me leave it all behind, another Kenny line, and opt for the choice of yoga and writing and all that I love.
My journey continues … and it seems I chose my title wisely … it is a wayward trail.  Wish me luck to remain true to course, following that light in the sky beckoning me forward.
Namaste