Okay, first off: the prospect that seemed so far off in the future, that would only happen to other students, has happened to me: first class as a teacher, coming up. Tell you what, that's one large ice cube of reality down the back of Teacher Training never-never land. Guess I'd better learn some dialogue.
A prevailing topic this weekend has been the spectrum of evaluators in the posture clinics. Some teachers are sublime, some are joyless, some are visibly bored, some are inspired, some are incredibly, almost pointlessly, picky. Which is to say that teachers are, y'know, human. There's a bulletin. But still: I had one clinic with three very different personalities (Joyless, Born Friendly, and Introverted), and although I delivered pretty tight dialogue for Cobra, Joyless lived up to her name (and what's worse, did not laugh at my joke, the bag). Born Friendly laughed and asked if he could steal it. Why, sure. Joyless went on to dismay and annoy several of my groupmates as the clinic wore on, so that by the time 4:00 p.m. chimed, the majority of students bolted from the room.
Later that night we had the first double clinic, and Born Friendly was back with us, this time with Aussie Dynamo. The emphasis was on energetic fun rather than verbatim dialogue, and everyone had a blast. A very welcome change of mood after the earlier session -- in fact, one of my groupmates, a poised and courtly gentleman, said he wished he'd waited to deliver his dialogue until the evening, instead of performing it that afternoon for that "f*cking b*tch."
Humorous update: despite reassuring us that verbatim dialogue was not the point that evening, the teachers assigned as homework "Work on dialogue" for most of us. I think that's teacher-speak for "cover your ass."
Halloween, Hot Style: I wouldn't have thought that skimpy yoga duds and 40 Celsius temperature would allow for much in the way of Halloween costumes. I was once again completely wrong, as my fellow students astounded me with their imaginations and senses of humour. Two brave souls (male and female) dressed up as Himself, complete with speedo briefs and samurai topknot. There was an array of amazing costumes, including the sublime Fed in gold lamé, pirates, ghosts, yoga zombies, angels, witches, Japanese ham sandwiches (funny only for those in the know about Bikram yoga dialogue) -- even a bottle of champagne. As for me, well: I did the dialogue/joke thing, drawing two padlocks in indelible ink upon my kneecaps in tribute to the oft-repeated line, "Lock the knee." Jane so funny! Still, I enjoyed it.
Week Six weirdnesses: I don't know quite what to say about this week's mood, which is mainly a ripening of all the previous weeks' moods. Rumours fly about various happenings, from tempers flaring in posture clinics to who's having it off with whom, and where, and when. I think it's fatal to take any of them even slightly seriously. And when I hear anyone grousing about Himself's idiosyncrasies, I keep schtum. After all, the man came from a fairly humble background compared to the lifestyle standard in the U.S. He created not so much a yoga kingdom as an empire. Is it any surprise that he sometimes acts imperially? I think it would be stranger if he didn't behave autocratically from time to time. And while he does shout at people in his yoga classes, he is also surprisingly tender with us. I can't figure him out -- but I do know that I admire his business acumen and his limitless energy. I always will.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Friday, October 29, 2010
Thursday re-Janed
As soon as I have permission, I'll post a picture of the man who changed my life. Ah. Here we go:
Bel Carpenter, a yogi whose presence in class is positive, mystic, and loving all at once. I left that class in awed humility, because . . . well, because I finally know what's been pushing me to become a Bikram yoga teacher. It's nothing earth-shaking, nothing all that surprising. It's just that to a brain like mine, a good brain but one that's prone to obsessing about the ultimately trivial, getting a simple, clear message is profound. Previously hopping and hooting around like the apes in "2001: A Space Odyssey," my brain has stopped mid-hoot and is staring, gape-mouthed, at the looming monolith: purpose.
Bel Carpenter, everyone I've met, everyone whose intelligence and spirit has left a mark, friends, enemies, all: thank you.
Bel Carpenter, a yogi whose presence in class is positive, mystic, and loving all at once. I left that class in awed humility, because . . . well, because I finally know what's been pushing me to become a Bikram yoga teacher. It's nothing earth-shaking, nothing all that surprising. It's just that to a brain like mine, a good brain but one that's prone to obsessing about the ultimately trivial, getting a simple, clear message is profound. Previously hopping and hooting around like the apes in "2001: A Space Odyssey," my brain has stopped mid-hoot and is staring, gape-mouthed, at the looming monolith: purpose.
Bel Carpenter, everyone I've met, everyone whose intelligence and spirit has left a mark, friends, enemies, all: thank you.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Posture Clinic, the Envy Generator.
Yes, I know we're all different down here in Yogaland. We have different strengths and challenges, varied experiences and desires. But hell, it's Week 6, so to phooey with acceptance. I've watched over the last month as fellow students in the posture clinics get really fun homework. Deliver your next dialogue like a Valley Girl. Sing your dialogue. Talk like a gangster. Teach students while performing the Triangle Pose.
Then there's my usual evaluation: keep looking at the bodies, and energy energy ENERGY dialogue. Sometimes I get extras, such as "Use your gifts," by which they mean my public speaking voice. But tonight the wonderful Pete F. got the assignment to deliver the Locust pose like an overstimulated kid talking to Santa Claus. My roomie, Jayna, wrote a hip-hop version of Wind Removing Pose that made her a star. And again I get to focus on the students, energy energy energy work on the energy crescendo, energy energy energy ARGH.
I *knew* this would be a workshop for the ego, and I was right. Evaluations can make people cry, after all, and some fret that they aren't being given the same comments by the judges panel. Answer: Because, as we know, good judges know to evaluate people, not postures.
But I do a not-bad Valley Girl! I could possibly be funny. I could also be self-obsessed, meaning that I just wish I could be as brilliant as certain classmates.
I could also be late for bed. G'night, yogi pals.
Then there's my usual evaluation: keep looking at the bodies, and energy energy ENERGY dialogue. Sometimes I get extras, such as "Use your gifts," by which they mean my public speaking voice. But tonight the wonderful Pete F. got the assignment to deliver the Locust pose like an overstimulated kid talking to Santa Claus. My roomie, Jayna, wrote a hip-hop version of Wind Removing Pose that made her a star. And again I get to focus on the students, energy energy energy work on the energy crescendo, energy energy energy ARGH.
I *knew* this would be a workshop for the ego, and I was right. Evaluations can make people cry, after all, and some fret that they aren't being given the same comments by the judges panel. Answer: Because, as we know, good judges know to evaluate people, not postures.
But I do a not-bad Valley Girl! I could possibly be funny. I could also be self-obsessed, meaning that I just wish I could be as brilliant as certain classmates.
I could also be late for bed. G'night, yogi pals.
‘Cause He’s a Woo Man, Naturally
Monday and Tuesday lectures were given by a man named Jon Burras, who while admitting that he had no medical credentials, proceeded to take six hours to share his world views with us. I walked into the lecture tent ready to hear a person who might not have been as intelligent and funny as Dr. Preddy, or as well-read and precise as Dr. Das, but still, someone whose perspective would be interesting, at least.
I noticed that the stage was filled with all sorts of rudimentary props, including a miniature skeleton. Then I read the topics on the board: “Fascia and Yoga,” and “Emotional Anatomy.” A flag went up in the head: Uh-oh, I think we’re in for some old-fashioned woo.
What’s woo? Well, to a medical professional, woo is the collective term for quackery, some of which includes homeopathic tinctures of 2-parts-per-million birchbark to water, reiki energy alignments, ear candling, etc. To a psychiatrist, woo might include seances and telepathy. Usually woo is harmless, and as a therapeutic tool it is most often used to remove excess money from one’s wallet or bank account.
About two minutes into the lecture, my brain began to splutter with disbelief, while rage slowly built over having paid, in effect, good money to hear this man spout a load of triple-distilled bullshit with the attitude of “I’m just giving you new perspective, just trying to open your mind.”
Ooh, my open mind. Once again I reminded myself that having an open mind means being open to hearing about stuff that may drive me crazy. I don’t have to agree with it, but neither should I close my mind to it -- that’s how minds get small. Accordingly, I stayed in my seat and took notes, all the while desperately wishing that Dr. Preddy could suddenly materialize and flatten Mr. Burras in a sentence or two.
Herewith are some examples of Burras’s self-directed learning:
Woo, Day Two: Burras enlightened us with his speech on emotional anatomy, a term I liked almost as much as “energetic energy.” Speakers of this sort tend to polarize an audience, and Burras was no different. People were either hanging on every word, or insulted at being made to sit through such a lecture. Here are a few gems from the world of gross emotional anatomy:
His comments were interspersed with specially selected facts and anecdotes, the latter of which included one about cognitive cardiac tissue. Yes, really. A friend of a friend had a heart transplant and somehow knew all about the donor. Wooooooooo....creeeeepy. People who have cancer have created it for themselves. People develop their emotions at the moment of conception.
I was pleased to see that some people were either outraged enough or disbelieving enough to challenge several of Burras’s statements. I was not, alas, surprised to see that whenever he was questioned by someone whose brain stem was attached, like one of the doctors in the house, he would quickly and clumsily change the subject or revert to “Well, you’re obviously an exception to the rule” retorts. He’d tell people he’d get back to them, then never did. So what did I learn, if anything?
At my most charitable, which admittedly is not much, I can say that Burras’s lecture was a simple thread in the Bikram tapestry, and that the lecturers so far have represented a spectrum from the rational to the ridiculous, from facts to fairy tales. I’m still amazed, personally, that Himself would want such hoohah to be part of his teacher training programme, but then I’ve said before that I cannot figure Himself out, let alone his motivations. At any rate, it’s given people a lot to talk about.
Quick Yoga Update: Oh! What luck, what riches! Tuesday morning’s class featured the legendary John Salvatore, a man originally from NY who now teaches in Las Vegas (and apparently takes part in various musicals, too). The class was absolutely wonderful, filled with humour and energy. At the end the students burst in a sustained ovation, which sprang to life again when we saw Mr. Salvatore at the start of the afternoon lecture. Then, oh joy! My study group and one other had him as an evaluator for our posture clinic. It’s so refreshing to be around someone who is so unapologetically himself, so kind, and so deadly funny. I felt emboldened enough to ask if I could share my favourite knock-knock joke with the class, to which he willingly agreed, and then hooted with laughter. There were three other evaluators in our clinic that night, and we were all swept along on Salvatore’s waves of enthusiasm. Greatness in yoga! Such greatness.
I noticed that the stage was filled with all sorts of rudimentary props, including a miniature skeleton. Then I read the topics on the board: “Fascia and Yoga,” and “Emotional Anatomy.” A flag went up in the head: Uh-oh, I think we’re in for some old-fashioned woo.
What’s woo? Well, to a medical professional, woo is the collective term for quackery, some of which includes homeopathic tinctures of 2-parts-per-million birchbark to water, reiki energy alignments, ear candling, etc. To a psychiatrist, woo might include seances and telepathy. Usually woo is harmless, and as a therapeutic tool it is most often used to remove excess money from one’s wallet or bank account.
About two minutes into the lecture, my brain began to splutter with disbelief, while rage slowly built over having paid, in effect, good money to hear this man spout a load of triple-distilled bullshit with the attitude of “I’m just giving you new perspective, just trying to open your mind.”
Ooh, my open mind. Once again I reminded myself that having an open mind means being open to hearing about stuff that may drive me crazy. I don’t have to agree with it, but neither should I close my mind to it -- that’s how minds get small. Accordingly, I stayed in my seat and took notes, all the while desperately wishing that Dr. Preddy could suddenly materialize and flatten Mr. Burras in a sentence or two.
Herewith are some examples of Burras’s self-directed learning:
”Embryo organs know where to go because of the fascia.”
”Fascia has the ability to transfer energy through the body, life force energy, energetic energy.”
”Bones float in a sea of fascia.”
”Bones are connective tissue.” [Editor's note: I put this here because Burras, that bozo, didn't explain that bones are a specialized form of connective tissue, in that it's the only kind where the outer layer gets calcified. No, he just left people thinking that bones were like ligaments, the schmo. Thanks to Niecia for pointing out that some clarification was needed here.]
”Gravity has no place in keeping an object on the ground.”
”You see a person who’s ridden horses all their life? Their leg bones are bowed.”
”We wear diapers as babies, but we don’t wear diapers anymore because we’ve changed our belief systems.”
”The arteries flow through the muscles.”
”Capillary walls are partly connective tissue.”
”When fascia dry out, the bones stop getting nutrients.”
Woo, Day Two: Burras enlightened us with his speech on emotional anatomy, a term I liked almost as much as “energetic energy.” Speakers of this sort tend to polarize an audience, and Burras was no different. People were either hanging on every word, or insulted at being made to sit through such a lecture. Here are a few gems from the world of gross emotional anatomy:
”Emotion means ‘energy in motion’.”
”Drugs don’t cure diseases, they only suppress symptoms.”
”Western medicine sees yoga as exercise only.”
”The Western system doesn’t want you to be well, it wants you to be a customer.”
”If I had late-stage cancer, I’d ask myself, ‘Why the hell did I create this’?”
”Fitness is just training for war.”
His comments were interspersed with specially selected facts and anecdotes, the latter of which included one about cognitive cardiac tissue. Yes, really. A friend of a friend had a heart transplant and somehow knew all about the donor. Wooooooooo....creeeeepy. People who have cancer have created it for themselves. People develop their emotions at the moment of conception.
I was pleased to see that some people were either outraged enough or disbelieving enough to challenge several of Burras’s statements. I was not, alas, surprised to see that whenever he was questioned by someone whose brain stem was attached, like one of the doctors in the house, he would quickly and clumsily change the subject or revert to “Well, you’re obviously an exception to the rule” retorts. He’d tell people he’d get back to them, then never did. So what did I learn, if anything?
At my most charitable, which admittedly is not much, I can say that Burras’s lecture was a simple thread in the Bikram tapestry, and that the lecturers so far have represented a spectrum from the rational to the ridiculous, from facts to fairy tales. I’m still amazed, personally, that Himself would want such hoohah to be part of his teacher training programme, but then I’ve said before that I cannot figure Himself out, let alone his motivations. At any rate, it’s given people a lot to talk about.
Quick Yoga Update: Oh! What luck, what riches! Tuesday morning’s class featured the legendary John Salvatore, a man originally from NY who now teaches in Las Vegas (and apparently takes part in various musicals, too). The class was absolutely wonderful, filled with humour and energy. At the end the students burst in a sustained ovation, which sprang to life again when we saw Mr. Salvatore at the start of the afternoon lecture. Then, oh joy! My study group and one other had him as an evaluator for our posture clinic. It’s so refreshing to be around someone who is so unapologetically himself, so kind, and so deadly funny. I felt emboldened enough to ask if I could share my favourite knock-knock joke with the class, to which he willingly agreed, and then hooted with laughter. There were three other evaluators in our clinic that night, and we were all swept along on Salvatore’s waves of enthusiasm. Greatness in yoga! Such greatness.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Delayed Week 5 roundup
I'll keep it as short as I can.
Lots of experienced teachers have told me, "Oh, yeah, Week 5" when they hear about odd behaviour. It's a Teacher Training cliche, and it's also true. In this past week, I:
Lots of experienced teachers have told me, "Oh, yeah, Week 5" when they hear about odd behaviour. It's a Teacher Training cliche, and it's also true. In this past week, I:
- told another student to get her f***ing hands off my feet during class (yeah, but! She wasn't just touching my toes during sit-ups, she was PRESSING DOWN ON THEM, for God's sake);Oh, well. Week Six is also supposed to be higher stress than usual, but since so far I've avoided fistfights with those who vex me, or being kicked in the teeth by those who have every right to do so, I'll hope that this week sees me not only surviving, but serene.
- lost the use of both hip sockets and had to hobble around like a WWI veteran;
- got lost trying to get back to my room three times in one day;
- experienced another Week 5 Classic: My Practice Has Gone to Hell, as in it's terrible, and I'm currently sitting out four of the 26 postures
- that weight I lost in the first two weeks? Yeah, half of it's back. Thank you, Week 5!
- glowered at long-suffering friends who were just trying to help me unsnag my brain during dialogue rehearsal;
- cried in class when the woman beside me sang a Bob Marley song --
If Town & Country Resort were a person,
I would punch it in the face -- hey. Hey, little old yogini, wherefore are you letting fools steal your peace? ("Nobody steal your peace. You give it to them, idiot!" --Himself, October 22/10.) It's more like fools are stealing my VISA and wifi. Short version: no wifi, why? Credit card declined. What? I cleared that card a little over a week ago and have used it twice for small things. Bank: well, then, who's been charging up hundreds of dollars daily to your card? Me: that's one damn good question. Bank: Oh, it's your hotel. Me: Huh? Hotel: We don't have any record of that, oh, wait, it's a software glitch. Me (expecting profuse apology): So how about reversing those hundreds of dollars of unexplained charges? Hotel (offering not so much as an "oops"): Uh, okay, but this will probably happen again until our I/T guys fix the software problem.
All very boring, sorry. And looks like "it's a software glitch" wins the "Dog Ate My Homework" excuse contest.
All very boring, sorry. And looks like "it's a software glitch" wins the "Dog Ate My Homework" excuse contest.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Schtoumpa-schtoumpa-schtoumpa-POOF
Recertified in CPR today, and boy are my arms tired. The first time I certified in CPR, back in the dim times, the Resusci-Anne was a full-bodied dummy, complete with a tickertape print-out to show how consistently you were performing chest compressions. The new CPR is much more a la carte -- the dummies have heads and torsos only, no plastic hair, no computerized anything. What else has changed? Well, we no longer check for a pulse, for one. The mouth dams, for another. The Heimlich's still pretty much the same, though. It took two hours and three stations to recertify in CPR-basic. Really, really basic. But still! Are you choking? I know CPR! A bit!
Yoga 100 Things To Do Before Permanent Savasana List: I started keeping a mental tally of the teachers whose classes I would love to take after training. The Fabulous Five, of course, goes without saying. But to them I add Peter F. from New York, Fed from London (I'll just join the long line of Fed-heads for that one), Elwin from Amsterdam, Brian from Los Angeles, Brandy from Kentucky, Katie from New York, Cristina from Mexico City, Elaine from Australia, Susan from San Diego . . . and the list goes on!
Character du Jour: Ms. Bucket. This woman was given the title "Bucket" by Bettina, who was a fan of the TV series, "Keeping up Appearances." In that show, the lead character Hyacinthe was forever correcting people who pronounced her last name "Bucket" instead of "Bouquet." Here, our Bucket has a most regular name, which for privacy's sake we'll say is "Kate," and evaluators and teachers are always pronouncing it exactly as it's spelled. Each time this happens, it's followed by a loud and annoyed "Uh, that's KHAW-TAY" from the student. She really needs to take a page out of my new friend Ayse's book. Ayse (Ai-shah) gets her name mispronounced every time, too, but she realizes she is a Turkish woman in the United States, so just smiles and quietly gives the correct pronunciation. Sorry 'bout that, Bucket.
Yoga 100 Things To Do Before Permanent Savasana List: I started keeping a mental tally of the teachers whose classes I would love to take after training. The Fabulous Five, of course, goes without saying. But to them I add Peter F. from New York, Fed from London (I'll just join the long line of Fed-heads for that one), Elwin from Amsterdam, Brian from Los Angeles, Brandy from Kentucky, Katie from New York, Cristina from Mexico City, Elaine from Australia, Susan from San Diego . . . and the list goes on!
Character du Jour: Ms. Bucket. This woman was given the title "Bucket" by Bettina, who was a fan of the TV series, "Keeping up Appearances." In that show, the lead character Hyacinthe was forever correcting people who pronounced her last name "Bucket" instead of "Bouquet." Here, our Bucket has a most regular name, which for privacy's sake we'll say is "Kate," and evaluators and teachers are always pronouncing it exactly as it's spelled. Each time this happens, it's followed by a loud and annoyed "Uh, that's KHAW-TAY" from the student. She really needs to take a page out of my new friend Ayse's book. Ayse (Ai-shah) gets her name mispronounced every time, too, but she realizes she is a Turkish woman in the United States, so just smiles and quietly gives the correct pronunciation. Sorry 'bout that, Bucket.
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