Just Breathe

This morning I subbed for the prenatal yoga teacher. I like teaching the prenatal class. The room is filled with creative energy.

Because we are trying to help them through labor, we do some things that you don't see in a typical yoga class. Try this: Hold your arms out shoulder height. Keep holding them there and breathe. Hold the pose for two minutes, focusing on your breath. Unless you've got awesome deltoids, your arms are going to start to ache before the two minutes is up. Can you keep focusing on your breath and ignore the pain?

We do this for two minutes because that's how long a contraction usually lasts. This probably doesn't apply to you (if it does, congratulations!), but maybe we can apply it elsewhere. What else can you breath through? A cramp? Having a cavity filled? A deep tissue massage? A challenge at work? Hearing something hurtful from someone you love?

I needed to breathe today while I was trying to help my son build with Legos. My job was sorting through the tub full of sharp-edged pieces looking for tiny, oddly-shaped helicopter parts invented by sadistic parent-haters. Tristan got bored with the helicopter less than five minutes after it was finished. Ahhhh, just breathe.

Challenging Push-ups

I am doing the One Hundred Push-ups challenge. It's the fourth week, and I think I'm getting worse instead of better. Maybe it is my push-ups style that's killing me. This is how my workout usually goes:

One...two...three...oh my god...look at the dog hair under the tv cabinet....

Rest. Scoop up the big pile of dog hair and throw it away, then get ready for the second set.

One...two...three...four...one of Tristan's socks is under the couch...

Rest. Retrieve the sock and put it in the hamper.

One...two...three...four...five...what are those red bits in the rug?...eight...nine...which toy did the dogs chew up now?...

Rest. Pick small chunks of red rubber out of the rug.

One...two...three...stop licking my face...six...seven...I can't do push-ups if you lay underneath me...nine...ten...one more...

Collapse on a dog and get growled at. Dog goes in the other room, finally.

One...two...three...no, I don't know where you put your swim team jacket...five...have you looked in your closet?...seven...can this wait 30 seconds?...nine...ten...eleven...great, now the other dog is licking my face...thirt....umph....

Give up for the day.

You should try this. I bet you get to one hundred before me.

The Thundering Ego

On Sunday mornings I teach gentle yoga at the yoga center where I did my teacher training. I have a fairly regular core group, and others that come and go. This morning, we were joined by a woman who was trying yoga for the first time. While I checked others in, one of my regulars chatted with the newcomer, giving her the rundown of the classes available. I'm sure I wasn't meant to hear, but I overheard her telling the new woman, "Can you come to the other gentle class? Debbie's a really good teacher, but Anna's even better." Ouch.

I should have thought, "wow, she thinks I'm a really good teacher," but instead my ego took over and all I heard was that I'm not as good as Anna. I thought about it all day.

In truth, I am not as good a yoga teacher as Anna. I have been teaching for less than a year, and Anna has much more experience. She is twenty years older than me and, with no kids left at home, has much more time to devote to developing as a teacher. I do what I can, but with my full-time job, and a teenager and a kindergartner who need me, I can't always make yoga my first priority. I should be thrilled that anyone thinks I'm "really good."

I am naturally competitive, in a bad way. When I was younger, I avoided sports, musical instruments, and anything else that didn't come easy to me, because I hated to be told I wasn't good at something. Instead of motivating me to try harder, my fragile ego convinced me I didn't need to do those things anyway. I did well in class and was happy because, when report cards came out, I always beat the jocks. When my friends did better than me, I found new friends.

When I first discovered yoga, it took me months to stop watching everyone else to make sure I was doing each asana at least as good as them. Even in the safety of the yoga studio, my ego wouldn't rest. If a teacher adjusted my pose, I went home and cried. After more than ten years, I'm still competitive, but I've learned to compete only with myself - most of the time.

My ego came screaming back in teacher training, and I worked hard to make sure I was doing better than everyone else. I had the advantage of having the most years of asana practice and none of the physical limitations that seemed to plague the others in the group. I took the work seriously, and was the only one who consistently handed in homework on time. I loved teacher training. I felt like I was winning.

Now I am no longer in teacher training and I'm the newbie in a group of experienced teachers. I have to keep reminding myself that the only way I will ever be as good as the other teachers is to keep teaching. For the time being, I need to quiet my thundering ego and be where I am. I always tell my students to leave their egos at the door and practice yoga without self-judgement. I should follow my own advise.