"I want to be Insta-Famous"
This is the mantra of many new yoga teachers out there.
Because while I don't post half naked photos of me "doing yoga" or dangling from a sex-trapeze, or rolling over some ridiculous object to "support my practice," I do get off on some external validation. I'd secretly love to know that you think I'm pretty, but I'll settle for you thinking I'm smart.
I'm here to show you the nakedness of my soul, the rawness of my emotion. The real work that there is to do, once you realize that the exact location of your toes in ANY yoga posture is a complete distraction from the point.
I don't care one iota where your left heel is in ANY yoga pose, if you treat your postal worker or cat like garbage. Align your actions. Your life will improve if your share your bananas, operate from compassion, apologize when you were wrong or reactive or spiteful.
In my short and absurdly cushy little life, I've learned a whole heaping helping of lessons, and I aim to share what I've learned so you don't have to fly head-first into the brick wall of addiction. So you can ask for help sooner when you find yourself in the deep end of life. So you can say, honestly, and with reverence for yourself, "HELP ME I'M DROWNING."
I've wrestled myself close in to some fabulous teachers - those who earn the seat on the daily through their honesty, humility, and gratitude. It is not easy in the front row, and it's not because of the spotlight.
Fuck the spotlight. The spotlight is easy. Formulaic.
The real work of being a Teacher is taking the headwind. Solid enough in what you have to teach that you will fly directly into the storm.
I miss the days when my life was so easy that I could obsess about my headstand, or the nuances that change between Warrior 1 and Warrior 2. As life has gotten harder for me - the practice has gone inwards.
And I've found my voice, my purpose, my song.
Second star to the right, and straight on 'til morning.