So with graduation upon us it means like TT my blogging journey is about to come to an end. While I started Blogging some with apprehension about baring my private thoughts for the world to see, it has infact become something I am now much more comfortable with. I think it would be fair to say it was my daily therapy. A way at the end of the day to put my thoughts down. Looking back already there are things I had forgotten so I am really pleased I made the time to post each day (internet depending) so that the days didn't just blur into one as the weeks rolled by.
And while there are obviously some thoughts I haven't shared, I have remained totally honest about my experience here and kept things as raw as they felt on some days. I hope that anyone reading this and considering coming to Teacher Training understands that this is a record of my journey and my journey alone, based on the thoughts and expectations I had prior to coming here and the daily experiences I had. I am sure there are blogs out there of these same past 9 weeks that read very differently (though I intentionally did not follow any off them so that I didn't feel influenced as to how I wrote).
So to those who have followed my posts and let me know your thoughts whether privately or through Blogspot, I am truly humbled and flattered by your comments and that you made time in your own lives to read about my journey. I will write a last post from LA after grad and then probably another one after my first class to let you know how it goes.
To you all,
Namaste.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Graduation Day
Its the morning of graduation day. My roommate has left early. Unable to hide her disappointment she felt she couldn't bring herelf to "celebrate" our graduation and so she changed her flight and flew out this morning.
I watched her pack early this morning with envy. I don't fly home until Wednesday. Having booked my flights 3 months ago it was impossible to know how I would feel at the end of this journey so I had allowed a few extra days here to relax and unwind, and had the thought I might be able to teach my first class at a local studio. (Unfort 430 other yogis had the same idea and it has been impossible to get a class anywhere.) It will cost $700 to change my flight. A cost that needless to say after 3 months of not working I simply can not afford.
So my dear wonderful roommate is gone and I miss her already. A stranger just 9 weeks ago, and someone so different from myself, yet who I believe will now be a life long friend. Often we would lie here at night in the darkness talking about the days experiences and trying to make sense of it all. We shared laughter, tears, moments of hysteria, and luckily the same dark sense of humour. You helped keep me sane and I will forever be thankful to the Angels who arranged for us to room together.
And so I sit here, alone for the first time in 9 weeks. And the tears come. Tears for the disappointment, for the expectations and hopes that were not met. For the times that this all felt "uselessly hard". For the times it was so challenging, not because of pushing yourself outside of your comfort zone and forcing growth but for the endless hours it was so mind-numbingly uninspiring.
And so though I can now fulfill my dream of becoming a yoga teacher it is bittersweet. Would I do it having known ahead of time it would be like this? I think because teaching this yoga is something I want so much to do, that I would say yes. But I would have come with a different mindset, maybe more prepared for the bootcamp style of journey that it has been.
I find it so sad that instead of coming away feeling empowered and inspired it has simply been a task that I have completed. Is my greatest lesson from this just going to be to learn to accept that "it is what it is"?
We had our final lecture last night. It finished agonizingly late. Bikram seemingly keen to relish in our last hours together while we were eager just to be be done. How ironic that his last words to us were about how disappointed in us he was.
I watched her pack early this morning with envy. I don't fly home until Wednesday. Having booked my flights 3 months ago it was impossible to know how I would feel at the end of this journey so I had allowed a few extra days here to relax and unwind, and had the thought I might be able to teach my first class at a local studio. (Unfort 430 other yogis had the same idea and it has been impossible to get a class anywhere.) It will cost $700 to change my flight. A cost that needless to say after 3 months of not working I simply can not afford.
So my dear wonderful roommate is gone and I miss her already. A stranger just 9 weeks ago, and someone so different from myself, yet who I believe will now be a life long friend. Often we would lie here at night in the darkness talking about the days experiences and trying to make sense of it all. We shared laughter, tears, moments of hysteria, and luckily the same dark sense of humour. You helped keep me sane and I will forever be thankful to the Angels who arranged for us to room together.
And so I sit here, alone for the first time in 9 weeks. And the tears come. Tears for the disappointment, for the expectations and hopes that were not met. For the times that this all felt "uselessly hard". For the times it was so challenging, not because of pushing yourself outside of your comfort zone and forcing growth but for the endless hours it was so mind-numbingly uninspiring.
And so though I can now fulfill my dream of becoming a yoga teacher it is bittersweet. Would I do it having known ahead of time it would be like this? I think because teaching this yoga is something I want so much to do, that I would say yes. But I would have come with a different mindset, maybe more prepared for the bootcamp style of journey that it has been.
I find it so sad that instead of coming away feeling empowered and inspired it has simply been a task that I have completed. Is my greatest lesson from this just going to be to learn to accept that "it is what it is"?
We had our final lecture last night. It finished agonizingly late. Bikram seemingly keen to relish in our last hours together while we were eager just to be be done. How ironic that his last words to us were about how disappointed in us he was.
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