Shift

I once went on a yoga retreat in the desert, women-only. We stretched and hiked, laughed and soaked in the hot tub overlooking the empty sand. On my departure I was asked: Why don’t you become a yoga-teacher yourself? I smiled and left. A far-fetched dream, a different world.

When we sit in a circle introducing ourselves on the first night of the three-month Yoga Development Course, I feel vulnerable. Who am I to teach? Who am I to represent this lineage? I see myself through their eyes: A weird girl with a funny accent. Unstable, incapable. But is it really their eyes I am looking through?

How can I shift my focus?

From head to heart. From study to experience. From knowing to loving.

As I enter the Radha room, fresh snow has turned the world into a dream. I sit besides Swami Matananda: Inspiring, warm, funny, human. I see a group of seventeen people. Seventeen bodies. Stiff and limber. Tall and small. Muscular and soft. Seventeen people embarking on a journey to themselves. Seventeen people and a tiny dog. I am not here to teach. I am not here to lead the way. I am here to hold the light, so they may explore and find.

Sitting on my yoga mat; the snow in my back, a Swami at my side, the students in my sight; I realize that I am exactly where I need to be. Exactly where I want to be. I open my mouth, and chant.