Showing posts with label yoga teacher. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yoga teacher. Show all posts

Saturday, August 3, 2013

The Good Teacher


THE GOOD TEACHER

My friend Ali asked, “What makes a good teacher?”
For me it all starts with sincerity, a teacher who is a yogi in their own right, someone who can teach me something I don’t know, and the application of a high level of intellectual rigor to the practice.

I’ll use Edward Clark, founder of Tripsichore Yoga, as an example.  A few years ago, I completed his one month intensive training, and I’m headed back to London next month to complete his two week “graduate” program.

What initially drew me to Edward was that what he was doing was so uniquely different.  Even the few poses that I was familiar with were done differently.  Though handstands are pretty ubiquitous these days, at the time it was highly unusual and even suspect, to do inversions mid-sequence.  And what’s more, he’d actually thought through the process and had a reason or intention for everything he did—from the choice of vinyasa to whether a particular move was an inhale or exhale—and could articulate it.  Every time Edward came to town, I would consider what and how I was teaching asana and think I should scrap everything and start over.  It was a radical departure from the mainstream.  He was also gut-bustingly funny, and for those of you who know me, you understand how I prioritize humor.
Asking questions, I was worried and hesitating; I wasn’t sure if a question was overstepping my privilege as a student and would be unwelcome.   I was delighted to discover that he is incredibly kind, thoughtful and accessible as a teacher.  In sharp contrast to the other “master” teachers that I had encountered, he welcomed sincere and thoughtful questions and discussion, even when questioning his logic or method.  I remember one instance where I questioned something that seemed contradictory to a previous principle he’d espoused.  Edward’s reply?  “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that.”  Wow!   

This combination of passion, ingenuity, creativity, intellect, lack of ego around being “right”, and an obvious desire to share his knowledge led me to his training in London.  When I arrived, I was even more pleased to discover his knowledge and study of traditional yogic texts, and learn about the grounding of his methodology in yoga tradition.  And all of this from a guy with no real teacher-- I was flabbergasted.  Before ignoring or disagreeing with the ancient traditional texts in yoga, he actually studied them, and then created his own system based on the teachings.  This system is rather iconoclastic in terms of its pursuit of sainthood or enlightenment via movement.  These yogic pursuits have historically been achieved through the more still practices of seated meditation and inner practices.  No one has ever done it through vinyasa.  Edward readily acknowledges this is an experiment, one that likely won’t bear definitive fruit until after he’s gone, but he has his mandate from the yogic texts, this is what he thinks will do the trick, and he’s committed.  He’s committed his life to what’s possible.  Whether you agree or not, you have to respect that.  Who is that brave?  Who is that intelligent or creative?  Not many of us.  History will tell whether he is an innovative yogic genius, failure, or even more interesting, the guy who “invented” the yogic equivalent of the glue used on post-it notes (an accidental invention by a scientist working on developing a super strong adhesive- characterized as “a solution without a problem”.)
What impresses me most about Edward is how generously he offers his knowledge and experience, and tirelessly teaches everything he knows.  This comes with the expectation that the student will not rest on that knowledge, but take what he has given and do more.  Use that knowledge to advance the practice, as a foundational springboard to something better that can only be given by someone else who has learned, experienced and added to that knowledge.

In a world of participation trophies and short cuts, I appreciate the contrast of a teacher that exemplifies discipline, and a challenging practice that requires it.  Of course, the best teachings are always by example.  Edward not only lives his practice, but has high expectations in terms of work ethic and effort on the part of his students.  He can be incredibly sweet and caring, and it’s wrapped up in greater expectations of the students than we have of ourselves.  Edward has done it, he’s been there, and he’s learned what he knows without a “guru”.  That knowledge is hard-won, and can be respected through effort and a willingness to try, even when success is beyond our grasp.
It’s a blessing to have had incredible teachers who have these qualities, and Edward exemplifies them beautifully.  In gratitude, I will strive my entire life to embody these examples.
For info on Edward's upcoming workshop in Seattle, October 5-6, 2013- click HERE!

Friday, April 12, 2013

The Yoga of Injury, Ageing, and Limitations

One of my students recently asked me what I meant when I said that we use yoga asana (the physical postures) to teach us that we are more than our bodies.
I've heard it put best by master teachers like Edward Clark and David Swenson, and I paraphrase-- If yoga (asana) was about achievement in the poses, we'd be looking to gymnasts, acrobats and Cirque du Soleil perfomers for the secrets of Enlightenment. This is not to diminish their accomplishment, it's that there's something unique about yoga asana that makes it more than contortionism; and even if we've never thought specifically about it, on some level we know that.
Perhaps it's not until we've reached "a certain age" or had an injury-- minor or debilitating, temporary or permanent-- that we recognize we are something more than our physical body. It doesn't make it any easier to "gracefully surrender the things of youth" (Desiderata), but it does underscore the value of our practice beyond the physical.
The question then is- why do the physical poses at all? Beyond taking care of our "temple", it's a vehicle through which we can understand and learn about everything around us. The practice room is like a laboratory, and we "experiment", putting our body through the paces, creating situations that create stress, intensity, discomfort, in a safe and controlled environment. We do this and learn about ourselves, train ourselves on many levels-- physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual-- so we can grow.
I ran across a poem by Theodore Roethke called Infirmity that I think illustrates the temporal nature of the body and our attachment to it, the play of the senses, and That within us that is always the same. We might call it "Spirit" or the "Soul", but it's this eternal Inner Light of Awareness that we seek to uncover in yoga, and better yet, allow to inform all of our thoughts, words and actions-- even while obscured by this body we inhabit.
INFIRMITY by Theodore Roethke
In purest song one plays the constant fool
As changes shimmer in the inner eye.
I stare and stare into a deepening pool
And tell myself my image cannot die.
I love myself: that's my one constancy.
Oh, to be something else, yet still to be!

Sweet Christ, rejoice in my infirmity;
There's little left I care to call my own.
Today they drained the fluid from a knee
And pumped a shoulder full of cortisone;
Thus I conform to my divinity
By dying inward, like an aging tree.

The instant ages on the living eye;
Light on its rounds, a pure extreme of light
Breaks on me as my meager flesh breaks down-
The soul delights in that extremity.
Blessed the meek; they shall inherit wrath;
I'm son and father of my only death.

A mind too active is no mind at all;
The deep eye sees the shimmer on the stone;
The eternal seeks, and finds, the temporal,
The change from dark to light of the slow moon,
Dead to myself, and all I hold most dear,
I move beyond the reach of wind and fire.

Deep in the greens of summer sing the lives
I've come to love. A vireo whets its bill.
The great day balances upon the leaves;
My ears still hear the bird when all is still;
My soul is still my soul, and still the Son,
And knowing this, I am not yet undone.

Things without hands take hands: there is no choice,-
Eternity's not easily come by.
When opposites come suddenly in place,
I teach my eyes to hear, my ears to see
How body from spirit slowly does unwind
Until we are pure spirit at the end.

See you soon and keep practicing!
Liz
//LizDoyleYoga.com