Imperfect
Penned during the first months of the Covid19 Pandemic.
“Hi! Thanks for the class! It feels so great to move again. I was wondering if you have considered….”
(insert clothing recommendation, audio recommendation, camera angle recommendation, live streaming product recommendation, lighting recommendation, volume recommendation)
It is well meaning constructive criticism, but it is still criticism. It is not always just directed at me, but also at my fellow yoga teachers and other fitness/movement instructors who are now doing something they never thought they would do – live stream instruction.
We are up against memories of in person classes. We are being compared to instructors who have made recorded production an art form, where they are styled, rehearsed, have many takes, do voice overs for instruction, and have multiple cameras on them for different angles. It is simply perfect. And nothing like live stream.
It is not limited to live stream. Back in the days of in person instruction, every teacher has experienced “well-meaning advice”. We thank the student, let them know we will take it to heart. And we do. For some, the criticism stings. For others, it causes worry. This is where I land.
Yoga is live performance with audience participation. It is a call and respond. We guide you through sequences for 60 minutes giving you the experience that will present itself to you. You may want to just stretch. You may want to break a sweat after sitting at your desk all day. You may want to have movement take you to another place in your mind. You may want to check out for an hour. You may want to work through something so personal to you that you are taking it to the mat. You may just want connection.
I have been taking live stream classes myself – not at my studio. The gift in all of this Covid19 business is that I am branching out, taking classes from instructors who are not in Portland. I am anonymous.
The first few times I did this, I was analyzing the room set up. The audio. The lighting. The sequencing. What the other Zoom attendees were doing. I was so distracted by my thoughts that I got nothing out of my practice. I was so caught up in how this was not the way I would do it and it is not an in-person class that I short-changed myself of what could have been a transformative experience. Instead I was focused on control and distaste.
Back in the days when I was not an instructor, I did the same thing. I would never say anything to the instructor after class, but I had many opinions on how things should be different. Then I took teacher training and taught for the very first time. I had a huge desire to go to every instructor where I telepathically sent them my “advice” to apologize! It takes a huge amount of strength and humility to get up in front of a class and teach.
During one of the live stream classes I attended as a student, I found myself going into that “control and distaste” mind. It is so easy to slip into. I caught myself. Suddenly the “bandwidth issue the instructor is having is bothering me” became, “Oh no, I hope the connection doesn’t drop for him because he will hear all about it and have to issue refunds!” which morphed into….”just move and do your practice” as I relinquished the control and worry over what his experience may become after the class is over. It was none of my business. The “what the hell is happening in this sequence?!!!” became, “WHAT the hell is happening in this sequence!!!!” complete with laughter. The uncertainty brought joy. That “mind messing” transition to another pose pushed me out of my comfort zone and expanded physically and mentally into my being. What was once NO became YYYEEESSSSS!!!
Many instructors are teaching live stream out of their homes. I am fortunate as Sellwood Yoga was able to scrape by, with gifts from a student who is an audio/visual professional, and set up our “Live Stream Studio”. Several of us, when it is our time to teach, show up, all alone, go through our checklist to set everything up and teach in a place that is familiar to most. Flowing through a vinyasa sequence in front of the iconic Sellwood Yoga windows is absolutely a gift to many who show up on Zoom. Does it provide the best lighting? No. But it provides illumination into the hearts of students who are craving some form of consistency. Those windows are an anchor.
But back to those instructors who are teaching out of their homes. Putting yourself in front of a class to teach in general is an act of humility. Teaching from within the privacy of your own home is daunting. In fact, if that would have been my only option, I would not be teaching live stream. My home is my sanctuary. My retreat. Incredibly personal that I only share with a few. Teaching yoga is an intimate experience in general between an instructor and student. We see you as you go through the emotions that the asanas bring up. We are there for you when you are going through a crisis. We listen to your concerns and worries. And sometimes, even though we all subscribe to “leave your stuff at the door before you teach” mantra, you will see us during vulnerable times. But as intimate as all this may be, we are professionals and need to create boundaries between student and teacher.
Be sensitive to those instructors who are “opening their homes” to you. Going back to the class I took online, I noticed a couple of things in the room where he was conducting his live stream session. I wondered about those items. I was curious as to why he left them in the room. Never in a million years, would I send him an email to inquire. Even the most well-intentioned email may cause anxiety to that instructor who is baring his/her most private space. The home.
As with most things that cause discomfort within, I am seeing the lessons I need to ponder within all of this. How to sit with criticism. How to hold space with a student without compromising my energy level. How to embrace being imperfect.
From the Yoga Sutras, these two teachings come to play:
"Yoga is the resolution of the agitations of the mind.” Yoga citta vritti nirodhah.
This means “mind-chatter”. As Judith Lasater so eloquently describes, this citta, according to Patanjali and others, is by its very nature expressed in “vritti” form. These “vrittis” are agitations which are continual, both conscious and unconscious, and are the root of our avidya, or lack of understanding about both who we really are and what reality is. According to the text, our consciousness is in constant fluctuation and agitation
“By practice and detachment these can be stopped.” Abhyasa vairagyabhyam tan nirodhah.
Judith Lasater continues: Patanjali presents one of his most practical verses here. The author is referring to methods for calming the citta and thus allowing the practitioner to enter the state of yoga. “Abhyasa” is translated as determined action or practice, and “vairagyabhyam” as surrender or supreme detachment. All the practices of yoga can be subsumed under one of these techniques.
Determined action is discipline, focus, one-pointedness. The practitioner of yoga is required to apply him/herself in order to still the agitations of the mind. But letting go of one’s attachment to the achievement of the goal of enlightenment is also considered an important part of the formula. Vairagyabhyam therefore can be considered an expression of strength: the strength to allow, to receive, to be.
This is important to remember, for me to remember, as we transition from all live stream teaching into this unknown hybrid of in person-in studio and live stream teaching. There will be rules. Imposed on all who enter the practice space to keep the entire community safe. The entering into, the practicing within and the departure out of the studio will be vastly different than before Covid-19. This is when the “why” should be translated to “ok”. Or “yes”. The amount of sleepless nights that studio owners have spent bringing community back together via live stream, and then doing it all over again into our in-person instruction/live stream combo has been enormous. Be patient with all of us, with all of this as we move into our new reality. Let go of the attachment to what was, or what should be, and allow yourself to receive the grace and beauty of imperfection.