Honestly, the title “yoga teacher” is starting to feel weird for me. After over 350 hours dedicated to learning yoga, I might scrap it. I could spend lifetimes and only begin to understand the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali, how can I ever claim to be a teacher?
I hardly understand my own convoluted French/English settler ancestry from Newfoundland/Quebec. Adopting the identity of someone else’s history only leaves me with more unanswered questions.
It was never really about the title. I fell into this as a form of rehabilitation after a life changing accident. My shoulder and chest undergoing four surgeries between 2017 and 2019. This was never about becoming a teacher but finding my voice. About finding solace and strength in my body, beginning to trust it. To trust myself in it after being cut open and sewn back together over a dozen times, since I was 19, because of a genetic heart condition. To strengthen my body, psyche and soul and heal with the power of my own intention.
In the midst of the very darkest moments of my life I found dedication, practice, the will to show up and move forward, even if it is slowly.
I feel that the movement, asana, what I have been keen on learning to vocalize and teach in video format is just one thin slice of the giant wheel of what this is. Seeing the way my body moves on screen, how others translate my words into their own movement is just one aspect of what’s unfolding.
Seeing myself reflected back in video and toying with the title of “yoga teacher” I’ve become hyper aware of my body image. I’ve been attempting to make myself smaller since I started training in 2019. I would like to be at a point where I don’t give a fuck. I celebrate all body types which constantly juxtaposes the shame I feel in my own.
Impostor syndrome. I don’t practice enough, understand the texts, put enough clean foods or substances into my body in order to deserve a title. This is also bullshit. I know that this goes much further, deeper. This is not about a title.
This is the practice of a lifetime.
This is also simply about breath. About nothing, letting it be swept away, watching, observing from a distance. It’s about finding space to be alone, in stillness. To simply be. Finding the awareness behind all of these swirling, endless thoughts. The egotistical battles and nihilistic conundrums.