On Tuesday I mentioned going to my
first Kundalini class at a new-to-me studio in Toronto.
It’d been a while since I’d been to
any class at all. The buzz it left me with was enough to bring me
back the next day for an Ashtanga class. With Havovi.
I have adored every yoga teacher who
has ever crossed my path. Every one of them has been supportive,
kind, warm, and in love with yoga.
Now and then I meet a teacher who
rattles me at a time when a good rattling is what I’m looking for.
Havovi is one of these.
The class was perfect. Hard enough to
sweat a river. Not so hard that I wanted to escape or collapse in a
heap. It found an edge that made me want to laugh. I had to work at
And over and over, looking right at me
(I’ll bet everyone felt she was staring at them), she said,
“Ashtanga has an incorrect reputation for being competitive. This
is your practice, and the practice is about your breath. First and
foremost, breathe. The rest will take care of itself. Whatever you
can do, do. Whatever you cannot do, accept.”
I may be paraphrasing slightly. A mild
delirium had spread by now through my body and brain.
I’m not sure what happened. Perhaps
I placed myself in her care by being in her class. Perhaps I was
just ready. Perhaps she’s crazily intuitive and a shaman as much
as a yoga teacher. Who knows? But her words about breath and about
acceptance found their way to some place that my self-talk hasn’t
reached lately during home practice. Something good opened up inside
my chest. Something that makes me feel better about myself. I don’t
know any more than that, except that whatever it is hasn’t closed
I think I’m ready to be a student
Thanks to yoga for being there when I
want to chart my own course and for being there when I’m ready for
beautiful teachers. Thanks, thanks to Havovi at Bliss Yoga Studio in Toronto.
Thanks to you for the conversation,