I caught myself, all week, being confused: this is a good thing; I am starting a yoga studio in a place that really needs it, bringing what skills I have to a people who don’t have other teachers around; I am, in many ways, claiming ‘my own’ teaching and space and time.
So why does the good feel blustery, vulnerable, and rootless?
Because even good change is hard. It calls us out of who we have been and challenges us to be something more, to bring our best, to risk and grow.
Of course it’s good, and of course it’s scary, both. As the first week of classes ends this morning I’m sitting at a desk that is still unorganized and unpacked and confused, with the window open to the first day that smells like autumn, exhausted. And happy. I pushed students this morning, challenging them into an arm balance. Some are very new to yoga and had never seen it before, others have done yoga but haven’t gotten themselves up into that bakasana yet, or been able to hold it very long. Therefore, there was a lot of falling. Wobbling, wavering, and trying over.
Every one of them got up. Felt both the risk (you expect me to stand on my hands?!) and the lift. If just for a second. And then we moved on.
We’re all doing yoga, always.