Listen to Your Teacher

By Cindy Spiegel

I’m good at things. (It’s true.) Teachers love me because I listen carefully, follow directions, get it right the first time. I have thrived on smiley faces and stars and As. But being good at things comes with a cost: the ever-present fear that I will not be good at something. 

(Some things I’m not good at: teaching college writing, caring for houseplants, confrontation, mingling.)

Taking TriYoga classes has been an opportunity to test this performance mindset. Turns out yoga’s really, really hard when you’re trying to be perfect. The fear of doing something wrong leads to tiredness, soreness, and a growing dread of going to yoga class. 

Don’t get me wrong: I welcome alignment corrections and assists, but even so, when I would see Theresa walking toward me in class (pre-pandemic, that is), I would scramble to figure out what I was doing wrong and correct it before she arrived. 

A teacher’s eyes on me alert me to the potential for critique, and even if my movements appear to flow, my breath gets erratic. My chest tightens. By the end, I’m exhausted. If I perceive that I’ve failed in some way, I’m exhausted and sad. If I think I’ve done well, I’m still exhausted. 

In the spring of 2023, I quit taking TriYoga classes. I had been taking Theresa’s Level 2/3 Wednesday class for years. Every week, I’d worry. Would I have the energy to get through it? What will Theresa think if I opt for Cat instead of Raised Cobra? What if I go really rogue and take Child? Will she be able to tell I eat too much sugar or not enough vegetables? I’d somehow conflated Theresa with my internal critic, an authority I could never live up to. 

So I told Theresa I needed some time in the wilderness. Did I need a break from yoga or just from my thoughts about yoga? I wanted to find out. 

The week after I canceled my membership, I woke up on Wednesday morning with an expansive feeling of sweetness and time: the whole day open before me, in which my energy could flow quietly, safe from outside observation.  

As weeks went by without yoga classes in my life, I began to practice yoga more, not less. Back to Basics I went, allowing myself the time to really feel the flow, to move slowly, to do what felt good. If I started an upper-level flow and got tired after Summer, I stopped. I started to understand how yoga could release tension instead of adding it.  

But I missed Theresa. I missed my classmates. How could I bring them back? How could the teacher I was discovering in my body and my breath work in communion with external teachers? How could I hear praise and critique with both gratitude and detachment? 

When I returned to class, the calmness of my “wilderness” experience permeated my flow for the first few weeks. Now, some of that old performance anxiety is creeping back, but rather than see anxiety as the enemy, I see that it, too, is a teacher. Its pricklings alert me that something is off-kilter. I try to tune in to that sensation without letting thoughts rush in to explain it.   

What I’m learning is that an external teacher can remind me to tune into my internal teacher. She can offer knowledge about how certain alignments might impede or encourage flow. What I can do with that knowledge is be grateful for it and observe how my body responds to it. Does it tighten or relax? How does my mind respond? With worry or with calm detachment? 

Maybe the most important thing a teacher does is live her teaching, show her students by her own life how the flow can transform and sustain. That’s what Theresa does. And that’s what the inner teacher does, too. She doesn’t judge; she shines. Who wouldn’t want to bask in that light every week, even if you’re brave enough to stay in Child the whole time?* 


Cindy is a Triyoga teacher, writer, and freelance editor. She lives in Boalsburg with her husband, dog, books, and yoga mat. Cindy’s self-published books can be found at amazon.com under her original name, Cindy Clem.

*Pro tip: A class replay provides the perfect opportunity to practice diverging from instruction. Afraid you won’t catch up if you opt for extra Cat Bows or more time in Knees to Chest? Try it and see what happens. You can always rewind. 

 
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