A Day in the Life of a Hatha Yoga Teacher

It’s raining – again, dawn creeping blearily through the windows. So the morning dog walk will have to be postponed.  But the good news is, I can sit for longer in meditation, and practice one or two of the techniques from the Vijñana Bhairava that my teacher, Carlos Pomeda, taught us.  That is, after I’ve had my first cup of tea.

I’ve stopped listening to the early morning news. It tends to influence my day in a way I don’t like, so I simply sit and enjoy the early morning sounds of the birds who have braved the rain to welcome the day.

I’m always surprised how wildly different my meditation experiences are, from day to day—and surprised too, when I come out of what I usually describe as a ‘busy’ meditation, with thoughts arising one after another, to find that the post-meditative experience is spacious and joyful.  

I don’t have a special place to sit. Often, it’s in my living room, with my dog muttering under her breath about how walks should be happening right now, and I try to let these little domestic interruptions become a part of my practice.  I have a little ritual after meditation too, involving a small pack of cards with a single word and its Sanskrit translation (or vice versa) on each card, which I pick after a short contemplation. I try to let that attitude inform my day.  

Today was ‘Serenity’. Suits me! I could do with lots of that in my life. 

And then it’s into the daily mundane activities: shower, make my bed, put dishes away from the night before, and get ready for the big Sasha moment; THE WALK. Where to today? I live on 100 acres of mostly bushland, on top of a hill, surrounded by State Forest on three sides, with the road on the other side. The State Forest has some good forest roads, and we can go in several directions, but because it’s a Serenity Day, I’m choosing one without a steep hill. The dog is happy wherever we go; there’s always a multitude of scents to follow up.

Today is a class day, so we can’t dilly-dally.  On Friday mornings, I teach an asana class of mostly older women, which is good because I’m also an ‘older woman’. We don’t practice any extreme poses; we use lots of props, and it’s definitely an alignment-based class. A few salutes to the sun, but otherwise no strong vinyasa sequences. Flow, yes, but stopping when we need to (or I see a need to) to address alignment details or remind them of the intention we’re taking into the practice today.

They love it. They’ve become strong women, many able to do inversions, with Shoulderstand/Sarvangasana the key inversion. It’s perfect for them – many are caring for grandchildren or still working into their 70’s (like me) and it’s a great pose to put in towards the end of the class: strong but with a beautiful calming energy.

Today, most of the women are early, as usual. Our yoga class has become a wonderful little community in our tiny town, with several new friendships having been made.  And we share produce because many of us are keen gardeners. I’ve brought in limes and a bucket of feijoas (the trees are groaning with fruit); Michelle has brought in the last of their long white heritage cucumbers, everyone’s favourite. Annette has given me a bottle of her homemade sweet chilli sauce in exchange for the jalapenos I gave her last week, and Anne has some delicious little early mandarins. It’s an Abundance Day too.  

It's a very chatty group, so I use the Tibetan bells to bring everyone onto their mat, and to bring quiet. I start every class with an intention and a chant. Originally, I called it a theme but realised that a theme is something more external to the practice, whereas an intention can be internalized. And the chant is a way to internalize too.

And that’s always my focus: to give them every opportunity to draw their awareness inside; to try to balance the constant barrage of forces that draw us out of ourselves. 

Today’s intention is ‘Clarity’, and I introduce it with a little story about a girl I knew called Clarity.  It’s pretty obvious that if we bring our attention to the alignment instructions, or cues, we’ll gain clarity in what our physical body is doing; how it’s moving through space, but also how it’s making connections through the soft tissues and bones.  That’s important, because as we age, we become more set in our physical patterns, and those patterns are not necessarily going to support us. 

But we also need mental clarity because those patterns of the mind are the ones we don’t notice so much; most of them are simply subconscious tendencies that arise as we work our bodies. They can be quite insidious!  We can achieve mental clarity through the practices of internalization, such as Bhairavi Mudra (although that’s for another story). 

After class, it’s our social time, gathering at one of the local cafes for a hot or cool drink and maybe some food.  Sometimes it’s the entire class, and sometimes it’s just a few of us when other duties call. Although they can be very loud, with several conversations going on at the same time, I love these get-togethers. 

Today I’d like to get to the library after a quick IGA shop, so I excuse myself, get out the umbrella, and head down the street: the one, short, main street of Bulahdelah. Not a long walk. With a bulging shopping bag, I head to the little library for a relaxed perusal of the shelves.  

Another stop at the hardware store and I’m home, Sasha bouncing and bounding in sheer delight at mum’s return.  I’d stopped along the way to take some photos. The rain had cleared, but a beautiful mist was draped across the hills on either side of the valley, the paddocks an almost-luminous green after the heavy rainfalls we’ve had, cows and horses enjoying the lush grazing.

I hadn’t eaten at the café, so after Sasha’s treat had been dispensed (you’ve been a good girl?) and a short walk to make up for the missed one this morning, it was time for lunch and a siesta. Or, as we refer to it in class, a nanna nap. My parents always had a siesta after lunch, and I think it’s a good practice. I love teaching still, but with a body that’s 77 years old, it does take it out of me somewhat, especially if I’ve been demonstrating, and a short siesta is very refreshing. Sometimes all I need is a long Supta Baddha Konasana, but today I need a little sleep.

It's too wet for gardening this afternoon, so I’m catching up on a podcast my daughter directed me to, called the Telepathy Tapes, about autistic kids who have no language but can communicate on a mental level with astonishing clarity and wisdom.  (There’s that word clarity again).  I’m loving this investigation; it’s yet another example of how we, in our human body, can access Universal Consciousness.  This seems to be what these kids are experiencing.  It adds to our understanding that we ARE truly much more than we think we are, that we are, in essence, pure Consciousness, but we’ve simply forgotten that.  Truly wonderful to hear these kids describe (through ‘Spelling’) their experiences. 

I spent a couple of hours listening to this podcast.  A wet nose in my face reminds me it’s doggie-dinnertime, and I still haven’t had a practice myself, so it’s up off the futon and into action again.  

My practice these days varies a lot. Sometimes I just grab a chair and do a strong supported practice. Other times it’s restorative, and sometimes, like today, I get my mat out and do a pot-pouri practice with an emphasis on hips and shoulders. My practice is what you might call ‘basic’. Yes, I still do headstand and shoulder-stand, and if there’s someone else here, I might ask them to give me a leg up into handstand.  I don’t kick up myself as I have had a hip replacement, and the leg on that side doesn’t travel as well. I like a handstand with the top of my head pushed into a bolster, then I can free balance. But I’m careful; the last thing I want to do is crash onto that hip.

I LOVE a supported shoulder-stand, and my couch is a perfect prop. My body tells me what sort of practice it would like, and after nearly 40 years of asana practice, I’ve learned to listen closely to its messages. Savasana feels sooooo good.

Dinner is light, otherwise I won’t sleep well. Occasionally I’ll have a small drink before dinner (shock horror – alcohol!!!!); I’m a winemaker’s daughter and I know moderation. But not tonight.

It’s Friday night, I live in the bush, I have new library books and a TV, and a cupboard full of DVDs from my producer-daughter and son-in-law. So what’s it to be before bedtime?  Hmmmmm, still thinking.

Goodnight