On this day last year, I taught my first Bikram yoga class. One “mock” that sure felt real in all of the nervousness, hard work, and accomplishment and one “real” class on the unsuspecting public.
Since then, I have taught hundreds of classes. Precisely, I have taught 376 classes.
Teaching is awesome. The “hard” parts of this job–it’s exhausting to be so highly focused and conscious and energetic for an unrelenting 90 minutes, particularly with a class that has a lot of struggling and/or distracted students; waking up before dawn to teach and having a different schedule every day; not receiving much respect or prestige from non-yogis–don’t matter at all when you consider how cool it is to teach.
To hear how grateful someone is that you helped them finally relieve themselves of their chronic pain.
To see three generations of one family side-by-side, sweatily supporting one another.
To work with positive, happy, inspirational people.
To watch a friend finally be able to sit fully in Fixed Firm after months and months of trying.
To have the time and the flexibility to sit in the sun with a cool drink in the middle of the day.
To serve and help others, and in some tiny miniscule way, to be making humanity a little bit better.
90 minutes at a time.