When I walk into my yoga class, I notice that there’s a different teacher and I’m immediately upset. Where is our regular instructor? Who is this substitute? Why weren’t we told? Maybe I should just leave.
The new instructor introduces herself as Laura and offers no explanation. Instead, she invites us to sit cross-legged on our mats and center ourselves. Center myself? Impossible! I’m churning with irritation.
Laura guides us through a set of opening postures completely unlike those we’re used to and I struggle to maintain my focus. Are others struggling too? I can’t tell and Laura is completely calm, each statement ending with a slight question. “Now place your right hand on your sacrum, like this?”
One of the new postures I’m surprised to find I quite enjoy. Why hasn’t anyone offered this before? And we’re moving at a more relaxed pace than usual which I appreciate. By the end of the class I really like this teacher—the way her slight questions offer encouragement.
The person I don’t like is me. Watching myself deal with this change is embarrassing—so much fear and hostility—until I finally let go and let Laura teach me something.
Clearly, I need to be a lot more flexible and yoga is the right place to learn it.