I had been riding this high wave for so long enjoying the view, the speed, the breeze, the thrill, that I was completely oblivious to the fall that was likely to happen. It’s not the lack of self-trust that has me convinced that there was no other end to the adventure, but rather a sense of realistic objectivity. I’ve never surfed before, I’ve never tried these waters until a few months ago, it is only natural to expect a period of adjustments, of learning, of falling off the board and getting back on it.
While I understand the normalcy of the process, I am still bummed that I have to go through it.
It’s been about three weeks since I have gotten on a definite weekly schedule with the yoga classes I teach. I am grateful and feel so lucky to have already managed to secure four weekly classes and a private session, all therapeutic in nature. I also had the opportunity to substitute-teach three classes at Torrance Memorial Hospital while a friend of mine was on vacation, which lead to my being added to their official teacher-substitute list.
So… what’s the problem? you may ask. I see a couple of problems, although if we are to take into consideration that we are approaching that time of the month (no, I am not talking about the new moon in Aries), at least one of the issues may not have as much weight as I assign to it.
Travel time. Counting my blessings that I do not live in Los Angeles city and do not have to deal with the 405 inferno. But trust me, PCH can get just as nasty and mood-killing at certain times of the day. And I can’t stop feeling that all those times coincide with my commute between teaching locations. When I sit down to do the math, I realize that, to be accurate, I need to divide my hourly rate by two in order to account for the hour spent in traffic. If I am to include the time I spend preparing for those classes AND the child care costs, I owe my husband money. He notes that I retired by 30. I can’t help but noting that he’s my social security fund.
Now, mind you, I have no intention of getting rich teaching yoga. Heck, I would be pleased with breaking even. But when I spend money working, something’s amiss. Right? Or am I overlooking something?
The point of it all. When I realized I wanted to teach yoga I was overwhelmed by a desire to heal. The desire came from the confidence that I did possess the innate and learnt essentials that would enable me to heal. While I still feel this way, I sort of feel lost in a bank of fish, I being a fish myself. There are thousands of yoga teachers around Los Angeles only, hundreds more getting certified each year. I guess I’m discouraged and disappointed that there is nothing truly special about my work here. While I am the happiest when I teach and can get teary-eyed when some of my seniors voice out their surprise to feeling so much better at the end of a yoga class, on days like this I fail to see the value of my effort.
Time for a grounding meditation.