No One Does it For You & You Don't Do it Alone
As many of you know, I have been keeping a blog since 2007, when my sister and I traveled to Pune, India to study at the Iyengar Yoga Institute. I have been in a personal process of reflection lately— looking back in an effort to assess where I am and where I am going— and have been re-reading a lot of my past writing.
While many things are different for me now— I am less zealous in my efforts and perspectives, more measured and cautious about what I give my allegiance to, and more sober in regards to the many pitfalls of the path— I am finding some great teaching lessons in the pages of those old journal entries that are worth revisiting.
We started our time at the Institute in Pune in July 2007. I remember being really freaked out and scared of doing something wrong and getting in trouble. In retrospect, that fear seems childish and a bit like a red-flag, truth be told. Like I said, I am a bit more cautious about learning environments and community culture now than I was then. I suppose I can chalk a lot of my anxiety up to being in a new place and respect and reverence that was co-opted by some childhood samskaras, as well as some observations about how mistakes were often handled in that particular circumstance.
From my blog entry, July 1, 2007:
After checking into our hotel, Anne and I walked to the Institute to register for our month of classes. The whole process was a bit daunting. There are two buildings on the grounds of the Institute, one of which I thought had a more formal entrance, so I said to Anne, “Maybe that building is where the office is located."
Luckily enough, I caught the eye of a man nearby who pointed me in the other direction. I say luckily, because I think what I thought was the office was actually the Iyengar's private residence, which would not be how I would like to make my first appearance. You know, just little ole me, walking in uninvited to the guru’s house.
So we did find the correct building and walked in the correct door. The lobby is full of people. We look around for a sign that might say "office this way" and see none and so we ask, "Is this where we register?" Someone leads us to the office and we get through the process reasonably unscathed.
There is some paperwork, the visa and passport copies, and so on and an interview- How long have you been practicing yoga? Who are your teachers? ( Pandu, the registrar, gave a big smile when we told him we studied with Mary Obendorfer and Eddie Marks. We had named many of our other teachers which did not make the same impression, which was kind of interesting.) He gave us our class schedule. We are assigned six classes a week and six practice sessions each week. For the most part, we have practice every morning from 9:00-12:00 and class every evening from 6:00-8:00. Wednesdays are a bit different because the Ladies Class is in the morning so we have practice that afternoon.
As we made our way upstairs to the practice hall, people were coming down the stairs saying, "Not yet." As it turns out it, it was Prashant's birthday and there would be a brief celebration. Anne and I, in our attempt to get out of the way walked all the way into the foyer area which actually put us right in the front row as close up to Prashant as one could be. Chandru (who seems to be looking out for us since we are friends of Randy Just) kept motioning for us to get closer up.
This is actually another line of consideration because the question of who do you know and who do you study with is very important here. This kind of relates back to my previous entry in thinking about relationship, which seems to be a central aspect of life here. Randy helped us with our taxi arrangements from Mumbai and with getting our flat arranged. And we were graciously accommodated each time as "Randy's friends." In the interview process at the Institute, we were enthusiastically welcomed after Pandu learned that we study with Mary and Eddy. Chandru seems to have taken an interest in us because of Randy again. Devon signed our recommendation papers. Even back at home, Kelly and Jeff are holding down the fort for me and Anne to have this adventure and our students are carrying on with subs and reading our blogs instead of taking our classes. And so on.
At every turn, I am reminded that I am not here alone or because of anything I alone have personally accomplished. I exist here as part of a community of support that has helped this opportunity happen for me. This is a lovely and yet humbling experience in which to be living.
Lee once talked about community as a soup. He said each one of us like an ingredient in the soup. Some ingredients are obvious and some, less obvious, yet equally important. I remember him saying, "Think of a bay leaf. Alone, it is just a dried up leaf, but when you put it in a soup the flavor it brings to the soup is quite remarkable and the soup wouldn’t be the same without the lowly bay leaf lending its flavor.”
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So, all these years later, in a time where, for many of us, yoga community exists online more than in a shared physical space, and after many permutations of loss in my life— some of my own choosing and some as a result of other people’s choices— this reflection strikes me as a great reminder of interconnection and how, while no one lives our lives for us or does the yoga for us, and we do not do it alone.
My teachers had their complex webs of support, I have mine, my students have theirs. Each of those networks evolve and change in order to respond and adapt to our inner development and outer circumstances. Some relationships stand the test of time; other do not. Some relationships are more like “main ingredients” in our lives and others are more like the bay leaf— imparting a depth of flavor behind the scenes yet going largely unrecognized or acknowledged.
I am heading to Austin for the weekend and am looking forward to seeing so many of my long-standing yoga community for a practice called Better Together. I’ll visit my yoga family at Pure Yoga for a few classes, see my Dad for Easter and have some good time with Anne, Jeff, and my nephew dogs.
More soon.
