Do you ever get that feeling that you're so full of stuff, of ideas, of new information to process, when you have so much to say and share, that you could just burst? It's May 17, 1980, just before a quiet St. Helens blew her top; it's the year 78 AD, just prior to the Plinian eruption of Mount Vesuvius that all but erased Pompeii from the map. A moment of seeming calm preserved at the hand of Vishnu, before Shiva brings destruction so Brahma can create anew. Since mid-November, I've been in a sort of learning mode. Practicing with and learning from all my favorite teachers in the local community as well as some of the bigger names in yoga-land. Over the course of the last month or so, I've studied postural patterning with my local mentor and friend Pat Donaher (check out his blog), practiced with internationally known Shiva Rea, started a 500-hour teacher training with local Kundalini and TriYoga teacher Daniel Orlansky, and got immersed in the therapeutic side Acroyoga.
As a yoga teacher, I immediately look to assimilate all the new good knowledge into class material. But my biggest lessons in all of this have been profoundly personal. As a practitioner, I'm struck time and again by how I'm forced to compassionately confront my flaws, reexamine supposed positive attributes, and let it all be good. All the while, there's this backdrop, a community that generally walks its talk and will pick you up when you do fall down (because there's also a recognition that it happens and it's normal).
Slowly, but surely, it'll all get out of my head on to (digital) paper. Right now though, I'm planning to happily ride and nurture this yoga high...
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