Patience

I taught class last Thursday. It was incredible, it deserves its own post and many more, actually.

Thursday was arguably the most elated day of my existence, I just woke up that way. And as your mood makes the weather, I found out on Friday that I am a nasty, impatient perfectionist (I will one day be perfectly rid of these qualities, of course). Friday wasn't as kind, but very arguably I didn't give it a chance. I woke up thinking, "Oh, today cannot possibly be as good as yesterday..."

That's not a path to success by any means.


Anyway, it took three hours of yoga to realize this, because I was busy ignoring the less satisfying (satisfiable) aspects of my being in favor of denial.

My first class was with Giada, a basic beginners. It was a slow class, I thought at first, but that's all right because I'll take another later on. Maybe I'll go running. I would really like to go swimming.

Despite the agitation, I should really consider this practice as a learning experience. Giada knows so much, and she's so calm. Learn from her. Learn from her, that's what you should do. Just breathe. It's not that hard, don't think when class will be over. Don't hate cobra. I hate cobra. Don't hate cobra.

And about halfway through it way pretty obvious that it was moving way too slowly.

Just like everything else.

Just like teaching, just like it being fucking March and I feel no where. And yesterdays class was NOT good enough.

David asked me to put on a playlist and I spent 20 minutes picking out songs, who was I kidding.
I didn't even clean up downward facing dog.
I rushed through every pose up till pidgeon, 'cept chair pose.
And maybe Greg had David listen at the door, or had someone in class. But no, of course he wouldn't, that would be an impressive and quite honestly, shocking, show of affection.

And I want to fucking teach, and I want to fucking teach at YTTP because that place fucking matters to me. And I have no way of getting Greg's attention and I want to fucking rip things to shreds.

Namaste.