tales from the chalk face

It was shortly after my standing tree pose had inadvertently become a fallen tree, and I lay on my mat, a crumpled collection of arms and legs listening to the calm, soothing words of my Yogi that it happened, that I had my epiphany, my moment of clarity, when I suddenly understood.

A mid-week evening in late September, the summer holidays a fast receding memory with only a damp autumn followed by a long, dark, bleak winter to look forward to. Back in the classroom for three weeks, and tiredness was already gnawing away at my very being. The obvious thing to do, the easy thing to do, would have been to flop on the sofa, fire up Netflix and nod-off in front of another American import. But no, it was Wednesday night, and Wednesday night means Yoga night, one of the highlights of my week (the other being my Friday night spinning class.)

Many, including myself, have asked me why I enjoy my yoga and spinning classes so much. Not too many people look forward to an hour of punishing pain pushing the pedals on a stationary bike every Friday night, but I do. I’ve tried to explain why I enjoy it so much – the virtues of physical exercise, the camaraderie of the class, the relief when its all over. When all you can think about is the burning pain in your thighs the problems of an unmarked pile of books and that difficult phone call earlier in the day shrink into insignificance, and that certainly cleanses the mind. But it still didn’t get to the nub of why I enjoyed it so much, why I would look forward to it all day long.

But then it came to me, on my yoga mat. Enlightenment.

As a teacher, in your classroom, you are the boss. It’s your domain, you are – you have to be – numero uno, top dog, the big cheese. You spend your day making decisions, giving instructions, controlling your environment. And when you’ve been doing the gig as long as I have (too long to count) you inevitability end up with various positions of responsibility which means more problem solving, telling others what to do, taking charge, and I love it. My siblings would describe me as bossy, I prefer organised and efficient. Regardless, I’ve found my niche and it’ll take a lot to prise me out.

I wasn’t looking for enlightenment, I only started doing yoga as I wasn’t very bendy and getting older wasn’t helping my suppleness. Spiritual awareness? Nah, thanks, but no thanks, not for me.

But my epiphany had been stalking me, and then: Wham! It stepped out of the shadows, taking me by surprise, and hit me in a moment of realisation. I suddenly understood why I do it, why I look forward so much to my yoga and spinning classes.

For an hour or so, twice a week, I’m no longer in charge. I’m on the other side of the fence, I’m the one listening to and following instructions and its hugely liberating. Letting someone else take control, doing what they say, surrendering to their direction frees the mind of all its cares and troubles. For a short while, a couple of times a week, you have no responsibilities other than to yourself.

Now, don’t get me wrong, this isn’t the birth of a new me – most of the time I definitely want to be in charge. For a megalomaniac like me, teaching is the perfect job: every hour a new group of subjects file into your domain to be inspired, nurtured, led on a pathway to discovery – a captive audience. But for a couple of hours each week to be the student, and not the teacher, to let someone else take the lead is a wonderful experience.

Maybe you should try it.