Life & Death

A fat gust of wind just sped through my life, whipping a whole month from beneath my nose, without me even realising it. Christmas - my favourite time of the year - is doing a merry jig around the corner and the new year will soon be rolling out of bed for its Welcome Back party. It's startling how fast this year as gone by, but at the same time, it's a good sign. You know what they say about time flying when one's having fun!

Anyway, the whirlwind that bear hugged me this past month brought about both death and rebirth. The death is a choice, the rebirth a surprise. So even as I gratefully reach out for the latter, I am already mourning the former.

Lately, attending PDN's class has been like waiting for your favourite dessert. But to understand why that is such a big deal, I have to rewind to the period between returning from the ashram and a few months back. After the ashram, I threw myself into teaching. Three classes a week, painstakingly labouring over each sequence days before each one. Devouring as many articles I could on asanas and gobbling up every new tidbit that fell from another teacher's lips. Once I developed my own style, I relaxed and enjoyed teaching even more. But one thing suffered from this progression - my personal practice. While I ceased attending PDN's classes, I managed to slip infrequent bouts of home practice. Like an anorexic, I subsisted on this measly diet for a while before things started splitting at the seams.

My teaching hit a plateau, I began losing inspiration and found myself dragging my feet to class. Shocked and ashamed at this sudden change, I tried valiantly to pull myself together, convincing myself that it was just a phase I was going through. About the same time, I hesitantly returned to PDN's classes. It was hard in the beginning. Like starting all over again. Then, like suddenly recognising a long lost lover, I remembered again. All the reasons why I had reached this stage in my yoga journey. And then, with a sinking heart, I admitted what I really wanted to do. I wanted to be a student again. I didn't want to be a teacher...for a while. The joy I felt from standing in front of a class was nothing compared to joy I felt from being part of one.

The rebirth of my love for learning collided with the death of my love for teaching. Well, perhaps death is too strong a word. I'm certain I will return to teaching in near future but for now, the only fair thing to do (for both my students and I) is for me to take a little break. To continue teaching right now would be like trying to cook a six course meal over a lit match. They are hungry and I can't feed them with enough to satiate that appetite.

I'm sad, yes. But I'm also relieved that I no longer have to face the guilt that accompanies the reluctance to teach each week. I'm taking a little detour in my journey but I know I will return to the path soon and with more goodies in my backpack!