9 Unexpected Lessons Learned in Yoga Teacher Training

As a student of yoga in many forms since age 16, I knew how the practice transformed me. I had no idea there would be so much more in teacher training. The lessons are expansive and plentiful; here are a few:

1. It is possible to love winter.

Before teacher training, I spent two years out of the country living in Ecuador and Mexico and traveling to half a dozen other countries. Upon my return to Chicago, I had not planned to stay and endure another Midwestern winter. When I chose to stay for teacher training, I wondered how I would manage.

I quickly found winter to be the perfect time for introspection. As I heard others complain about the weather, I even found myself saying, “It’s not so bad,” as I spent my time studying, practicing, and cooking up sattvic comfort food.

If you are surrounded by a community of seekers, creators, learners, and teachers, it does not matter where you are.

2. Your greatest teachers may become your greatest friends and your greatest friends your teachers.

Amazing men and women become yoga teachers. In the years past, I thought I needed to live in some bohemian expat community across the globe to find people who “get it” or “get me”. All the while, there was an incredible community of individuals doing deep soul work with their dharma right in my hometown of Chicago. What’s more is that Midwesterners are grounded to begin with, so yoga here is filled with authenticity and real people.

Open your heart to all of the meaningful connections that come into your life. You have no idea where the connections will lead. Gravitate toward the teachers that drive you nuts. You have something to learn from them. Notice how the other trainees become your greatest teachers as you see yourself reflected in the individual and collective process of becoming a teacher.

3. Dogma comes in all forms and serves no one.

I used to think of myself as this policy wonk. I fought tooth and nail with my dad at every meal about matters of foreign policy, poverty–you name it. I couldn’t wait to expound on all of my progressive ideas I had accumulated at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. My dad and I would sit around bolstering up our egos while our relatives rolled their eyes.

When I began practicing Ashtanga Yoga, I started to let go of the attachment I had to political convictions; however, the dogmatic part of me took a new form. I began to think of Ashtanga as the best form of yoga. This was my path and surely this would be the only form I would teach.

Thanks to Moksha Yoga Center’s wide array of teachers and philosophies, I learned to open my heart to so many other amazing practices. I find something that serves me in every class I take, and this well-rounded exposure will ultimately serve my students. Interestingly enough, Ashtanga has become that much more meaningful to me because of the sensation of openness I carry.

You can always find ways to bolster up your ego—even in yoga; bolster your sit bones instead.

4. Trusting our own intuition can be the toughest challenge.

Yoga Sutra 1.2 states, “yogash chitta vritti nirodhah”, which can translate to “yoga suspends thought activity”. Yoga calms the mind and you come to yoga to let go, right?

The irony is that sometimes the more you practice, the more “chitta vrittis” (“mind stuff”) you must learn to suspend. Teacher training disrupts any sort of thought management system you believed you had nailed.

I have an entire cabinet of voices in my head at any given time during my practice telling me how to breathe and arrange my body on the mat.

All of these voices become a turbulent tornado as you wonder who and what is right. Learning your own body and breath to know what is right for you is truly the work here…that evolves as well.

5. Language and teaching = empowerment.

I had no idea it would be so hard to cue yoga poses. Really. Language is everything and cuing requires careful attention to precision and various “layers” of cuing stance, breath, feeling sensation, etc.

By bringing my attention to language for how to cue yoga sequencing, I have also redesigned how I apply my language overall.  I’m not “bad at Supta Kurmasana”, but “Supta Kurmasana is a challenge for me”. I refrain from using negative phrasing whenever possible and this has shifted my sense of self and interface with the others.

Perhaps the biggest lesson in yoga teacher training is finding your own “teaching voice” and confidence with leading.

6. Just when you think you are taking responsibility for choices, you realize there is more to take.

As a teacher trainee, you will be compelled to look in the mirror and accept full responsibility for what you create. Victim language and attitudes are nothing new to me. I believe that karmically we choose our parents based on what we need to learn; this makes the blame game impossible.

Yet, I realize that I have made certain choices (namely career/work changes) during my teacher training journey, which have absolutely wreaked havoc on my routine. Who made those choices? Why? Whose responsibility is it when I don’t show up to my mat?

Yoga helps us to see ourselves more clearly and take a look at why we might not be showing up 100 percent in our practice, relationships, jobs, and with ourselves.

7. Make time for your own practice

I hear so many people say that they began teacher training to “deepen their personal practice”, not necessarily to teach. Well, as I have illustrated, it is almost certain your personal practice will deepen off the mat in your behavior, food choices, and thought processes.

The largest challenge for me has been making time to deepen my practice on the mat. Workshops, reading, apprenticeships, thesis projects, and other course requirements become convenient excuses for skipping personal practice.

Be prepared that your formerly focused practice will now be laden with voices from various teachers, which may lead you to question what you are doing.

Your body will crave yoga and you will think of ways to ignore that craving. Listen to it when it calls.

8. It’s okay to dare to be the weirdo, if that’s who you are.

There is this thing about sitting or standing for too long that just kills me and I feel a need to stretch or balance on a limb. So, yes, I find myself unknowingly taking vrksasana/tree pose in the middle of a social gathering while telling my cousin about my moon cycle, as she laughs and says, “Your moon cycle?”

I don’t mind if people think my eating habits are strange. And it’s okay that I’m not seeking a husband and children. I do what I love and what feels right.

I have spent my life feeling like an outsider in a world driven by consumerism, television, and working oneself into the ground for 50 years to be able to enjoy life when your 70. I don’t get it.

Being in teacher training has shown me that there are other weirdos like me, and even weirdos that want to learn from this weirdo.

9. I have so much to learn.

It’s called practice for a reason. Yoga is a journey of discovering union with yourself and the surrounding world. The more I experience and learn, the more I realize there is to learn.

Study with many teachers in many forms. Study with yourself.

Namaste, peace seekers.

Unbearable Lightness of Seeing

Alone on an island. I know no one here.

For an American gal who loves her characteristic “personal space”, a couple of days ago I found myself far less than comfortable with being with myself again. Funny, I have been pleading for this lately.

It was at this time that I wished my boyfriend of two years well on his journey back to France. I said goodbye to him and our beautiful travel adventure. A torrential downpour graced us just as he was departing flushing the tears on our faces off with its gloom. Feelings of loneliness, anxiety, and utter weakness engulfed my body and spirit. I played with the idea of heading back to my two soul sisters in my former home of Tulum, Mexico. Support is nice. Comfort is too.

But my travel experiences have gifted me with an inner knowing that there is a wild feminine soul in me with no limitations.

So, I stayed in the fitting Isla Mujeres or “Island of Women” with the intention of sitting with the pain and sadness alone. One foot in front of the other, I set off with my backpack like a curly-haired turtle to the nearest hostel. I got a bed in a dormitory that reminded me of that Seinfeld episode when Kramer housed Cubans in dresser drawers. Uncomfortable? Yes.

Just the day before, my (now former) boyfriend and I spent the afternoon traversing the island in a golf cart searching for rentals as I considered staying for a month in solitude. But there was nothing in my budget, especially after I left my debit card in an ATM…

Then, just two hours after he left, I got a Facebook message from someone offering me a studio–$300 for the month, seaside, comfy king-sized bed, fully-equipped kitchen (with a blender for superfood smoothies), and WiFi. Exactly what I wanted.

I would spend one night in the dresser drawer and then head to my new sanctuary.

I met a few other cool souls in the dresser; I was meant to sleep there. Without realizing it, I finally gained the confidence to employ my French with the goofy old dude from Bordeaux who did not speak a bit of English. I met a fellow social worker from Canada. And I befriended a young Israeli man going through some struggles and we quickly learned that we share a common thread of some pretty heavy history with our mothers.

But travelers sometimes just come into your life for a moment and then as quickly as you connect, they are gone. I headed off to my new haven the next day to write.

Truth be told, it has taken me FOREVER to launch my site. And here I am, inspired and writing. The creative juices are flowing. I have now accomplished more in two days than I have in nine months. True story.

So, what’s with the title of this blog?

It is not meant to suggest that my relationship epitomized the characters in Milan Kundera’s postmodern writings of The Unbearable Lightness of Being…well, I don’t know…there are whispers of such resemblances.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the novel, Kundera addresses Friedrich Nietzsche’s concept of eternal recurrence, which posited that all events of the universe have already occurred and will recur infinitely, in turn, adding a “heaviness” to the decisions we make that give meaning to our lives. Nietzsche believed “heaviness” could be a burden or blessing. Kundera challenged this notion suggesting that each individual has one linear life to live, which occurs one time only and creates a “lightness” of being. This lightness places less weight on the choices we make in life because if there is no cyclical nature to life then, “There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison.”

One of the main characters in the novel, Tomas, takes a two-year holiday from practicing medicine. At first, he is excited by the freedom of responsibility, but after some time he discovers that that is as much time as he can spend with such “lightness”.

My connection to Kundera’s work is multifaceted in this moment, but I sense that on the contrary to Tomas’ feeling of lightness, my travels that have been filled with weight and meaning for some time. But I have begun to see they are now feeling light. That lightness is moving me forward in two opposing directions. On one hand, I embrace the lightness I see and have released the weight of the “right” decisions. On the other hand, I need to see meaningful weight in my life, which is what has propelled me forward into sharing my story and offering with the world.

I am heavy and light. Being in this divine, cozy space overlooking the sea, I get to be reflective today. I get to be me!