9/20/13
Every year I assign my middle
school students to write for five minutes without stopping; it’s a way to free
up their thoughts, letting them know that whatever topic their brains are
thinking about is okay to write about. The mind works easily, nonstop, and the job
of the writer is simply to record what the mind is thinking. The only rule of
the assignment is to keep their pencil or pen moving. I will attempt to do a
similar writing here, but on the typewriter—I mean computer.
Yesterday, I felt the pressure to
get a sequence done. It turned into a
chore; something I had to do. The resistance was centered in my stomach, and I
felt like a high school student who didn’t want to do their homework. I kept
telling myself it’s not supposed to be like this. This should be something that
you love. Yet, yesterday, I hated sequencing.
I see no point in it. Why should a
beginning teacher have to design these steps for their students to follow? It should be the job of the advanced teachers
to come up with the subtle, beautiful, free-flowing, rejuvenating, and,
especially, safe sequences. New teachers aren’t capable of coming up with
sequences.
As I write this, I realize I am
avoiding the responsibility of a teacher, even a beginning teacher who is
learning. How does one become an advanced teacher? Capable teachers all begin
somewhere. And the best way to learn is to make mistakes. Jump in, childlike,
and have fun. Who cares? Enjoy. This is the attitude that I am striving for
anyway.
9/22/13
After I finished my third sequence,
Virabhadrasana II, Warrior Pose, Jen reviewed it with me. And I feel like I’m making some progress:
I read this the other day and kept thinking about it! So, I'm back to add my two cents for what it's worth. What I have found is that when I approach sequencing as an intellectual exercise, there is little joy or satisfaction in that. It is only when I approach it both physically and intuitively that joy kicks in - joy in the discovery and in the creative process of developing the sequence according to what my body tells me works. Joy in learning how it felt to do things in a certain order and excitement at the idea of sharing that with students. So - we all learn that certain poses are good prep for other poses. But if we only approach it that way - "Do Supta Padanghustasana I and II if I'm going to do Triangle later" - kind of thing, it quickly becomes a dull exercise without much insight. So, I sketch out the basics, but then when I DO it, my body will automatically suggest next movements. I may have written down "flow knees to chest, then do SP 1 & 2" but after I flow knees to chest, my body might say, "Please gently twist hips side to side". This is where the fun comes in - the body says "I want to do THIS after THAT." And so the sequence evolves organically as opposed to strictly from what we have been "taught." For me, there has to be this process of discovery; this aspect of "It feels good to do this after I do that," And then I trust that if it's true for me, it will be true for others too.
ReplyDeleteWow!...........I did not expect a response to my blog; I was getting used to writing without any expectation that it was even being read, let alone thoughtfully--and certainly not one so insightful, truthful, and helpful. You may have honed in on an essential and, for me, as-of-yet-semiconscious aspect of my spiritual journey. Teaching in the public school system requires me to get as many things done as possible in the hours allotted—and I have become supremely efficient. This skill has allowed me to keep my head above the salty slapping seas and live with some degree of health and sanity. Yet this kind of treading-water life can be exhausting, even when you are good at treading. Efficiency is different than living, the riding of waves, the vitality-giving energy of life. Efficiency is valuable up to a point. Machines are efficient. Meditation and yoga show me that more is possible. Thank you for reminding me of this vital truth. A long time ago, when I was in college, I was taken away with the book Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, the central theme of which was the exploration of the dialogue between quantity and quality. This book demonstrated how, especially in modern civilization, how significant quality is to fully living our lives. Simply put, I have had Wrong Attitude about sequencing. Thank you for helping to see how to correct it. I will try PLAYING more with my sixth sequence, (I recently completed my fifth and will be posting it within the week). I am very grateful for your response—Thank you.
DeleteYou've made me smile. I almost didn't write it, but your post kept coming back into my mind because I think there is sometimes an over-seriousness to yoga teaching (as in many things we do in life). Not that we shouldn't "take it seriously" in the sense of doing poses properly and safely, but just that accomplishing that doesn't require us to forego playfulness or to always have to be Very Serious and Grim in how we go about it. I was just reading from Satchidananda's book on the Sutras, and on page 25 he talks about his approach to teaching yoga. He says that his classes are more or less the same old yoga and he always says the same old stuff, but : "I feel happy and they all feel happy being there, so they make me happy and I make them happy. We just spend a little happy time together that's all." So it delighted me to read his words, because I figure if it's good enough for Satchidananda, it's should be good enough for us! We just get together and have some happy yoga time. (I totally get the efficiency thing - I worked for a large company for many years where there was a lot more "treading" than "playing".) :)
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