Tennis Anyone?

Last weekend I took my daughter Lucia (now eleven) out to play tennis. She's been asking to learn for a while and we finally had a moment in the middle of an unseasonably hot, sunny Seattle day. I'm not a great tennis player; I took lessons as a kid and went to a few camps; I'm not good but I can play.  Lucia and I share the unfortunate trait of being stubborn, and we're both kind of know-it-alls. So when we got out to the court and I began giving Lucia some tips about grip, follow through, and body placement, it did not go smoothly.

I got a lot of eye rolls, 'yeah, yeah, yeahs" and stomping to the back of the court. It was hot and Lucia was scheduled to babysit so we only played for about 40 minutes. It was more than enough for both of us. Lucia wasn't half bad at tennis even though she acted as if she hated every moment. As we left the courts in search of a quick 7-11 Slurpee before her babysitting job, Lucia said, "Mom, you're a good teacher."

As is often the case when I am parenting, I was surprised (and secretly delighted) to hear Lucia's assessment of the tennis experience.  It happens all the time when I think I am teaching my child a lesson and she is simultaneously teaching me something else. 'Right, Lucia, I am a teacher," I realized as she complimented me. It's what I do every day. It's what I love to do, what gives me energy and creativity and happiness. I forget sometimes, because I love it so much, that the person (or people) on the other side of my voice have a different experience. They may not love every moment. They might feel irritated or frustrated or pushed somewhere they don't feel like going in the moment.

But when I teach, just like when I parent, I am motivated by love. I love to share what I know and I love to see people learn and grow and challenge themselves. I love to encourage and nurture and support the growth process.  And I love to be a student as well--to hear what the teacher wants to share, to wonder how s/he fine tuned the idea or the technique. It's an honor to be in the role of teacher and a gift to be a lifelong student. If I am your teacher, this is a gentle reminder that I do it all from a place of love. If you are my teacher, please know that I love every minute.

Valentine's Day-Handmade Love

On Valentine's Day this year Lucia and Nancy planned to make a fancy dinner and surprise me. The surprise was leaked and we decided to expand our threesome to include some of our favorite friends, bringing our love fest to seven.

Around this time, I was also lamenting my decision to get Lucia a Kindle Fire for her birthday in October. Since she got the Kindle Fire, she's had a slow and steady progression of spending more and more time on her "device" and it has been making me mad, sad, frustrated and confused.

In and attempt to get myself off of my phone and laptop and, in preparation for Valentine's Day, I turned everything off and started "crafting." I pulled out the craft paper, scissors, glue, and old magazines and went to work on the dining room table.  I waited patiently and eventually Lucia came down and joined me in the card making. Nancy absconded to her crafty friend Tammy's house and came home with secret envelopes.

The resulting Valentine's cards were perfect. And here's why: making something by hand, whether it is food, socks, or a card, is an act of love, something we have less and less time for these days. I suspect it is why there are more and more little boutiques with precious, tiny handmade somethings that carry a hefty price tag. When I was making my cards, I found myself becoming increasingly more focused, energized, and excited as I cut and glued with my loved ones in mind.  I got so excited when I found wrapping paper with fireworks that I could use to make the heart shapes on Nancy's card. I knew Lucia would appreciate all of the tiny little "Xs" and "Os" I cut out to form the words on her card.

We exchanged cards on Valentine's Day, and I also made a new Kindle Fire rule- it lives in my room and Lucia has significantly more restricted use (she handled the news surprising well.) We all loved our cards so much that we decided to string them from the light fixtures in the kitchen so we could admire them while we cooked. Lucia used all the extra hearts and scraps to make place cards for our party and she sprinkled the extra hearts around the table as decoration.

Before I got a computer and a phone, I spent a lot more time making things by hand. I sewed, I knit, I canned beans, I made paper out of my recycling. Ten years ago, I always had some kind of project brewing; making Valentine's Day cards reminded me how good it feels to engage in that way.

So what's my lesson? There are a few. One-- it's hard to tell my kid to stop looking at a screen when I'm guilty of it as well. Two-- slowing down and making something by hand is a beautiful, perfect, highly satisfying experience, especially when it's for the ones you love.

To be a teacher

Yesterday I had a conversation with two SweatBox teachers, Frani and Rachael, about how we feel about being teachers. Sometimes I cannot believe that I've been practicing yoga for 23 years. When I started practicing at age 24, I never thought I'd become a teacher.  In retrospect, I think I leaned into yoga because my dad was at the beginning of a three year battle with cancer which would ultimately take his life. Yoga was a new hobby, an exotic adventure, a place to escape the sorrow of my father's sickness and death. Of the 15 years that I've been a teacher, I would say I've really only been truly teaching for about half that time.

As a new teacher, I had so much to learn. A few years into my teaching career, I had a baby, a physical and emotional journey that took all of my love, energy and attention. I took six weeks off from teaching when Lucia was born, but went right back to a regular schedule after that break. I taught, I worked hard, I gave it my all, but I can see now that, though I thought I was all there, my focus was with my baby; as much as I loved teaching, my heart was always with the tiny being who needed me to survive.  I was always happiest when I could get back to her and press my nose to her tiny, delicious head while she nursed or hear her breathing while she napped beside me.

A few years after that, I went through a brutal heart-break-- betrayal, confusion, despair. I taught through that period as well, sometimes hiding my tears while I taught with the sweat that came from the hot room. As much as I wanted to be all in with my teaching, I could not because all of my resources went to tending my broken heart.

My daughter is now 11, spreading her wings, needing space, forging the beginnings of her adolescent path. My heart is healed and I have found new, enduring love. Through all of this, I have been a "yoga teacher." And through all of this, I have been learning, healing, evolving as a teacher. I often tell my students that it is in the struggle, the discomfort, that change comes. I really hated being away from my baby when she could barely hold her head up. And when all I wanted to do was weep from heartache, to stay in bed and indulge that need, I still taught. I had a job to do. I was, and I am a teacher.

As I look back at my fifteen years of doing this work, I am grateful that I had and still have yoga--as a student and a teacher-- to shepherd me through whatever else is going on in my life. There is a beautiful process that happens between a teacher and students, a subtle, symbiotic process. I can see now that, for me living through those struggles, with my students and with my teachers, I have become a stronger teacher, a more empathic, present, and passionate teacher. And it makes me realize too, how much there is still to learn, how wide open and expansive the space is for me to grow personally and as a teacher.

What I've thought about most from that short conversation with Frani and Rachael yesterday is how grateful I am to be a teacher and a student. I have profound, immeasurable gratitude for all of the teachers and students in my life who make up this complex universe of change and growth. Thank you.