Last week I completed the final module for my 300hr Advanced Yoga Teacher Training with Tracy and Mitchell Bleier to become a 500hr Registered Yoga Teacher. It was an endeavor I dove into, rather boldly yet blindly, a year ago when we moved to Chicago. I was craving more education. More motivation.
As I sit here on this grey October morning, I can confidently say that this training provided me with more tools to better understand the human body and inspire my mind. It encouraged me to teach what I already know, whether that be an asana and alignment heavy class filled with props and anatomy or a fluid and flowing class filled with imagery and connecting to the senses. There is still more I am craving to understand. More I want to learn. However, I think this is my path as a teacher: to always be a student. The phrase “the more you learn, the less you know” speaks truth in my heart.
I wanted to share with you a sample of my writing from our final module during our writing workshop day with Tracy. I began this training with a writing prompt so I think it would be fitting to end with sharing my final writing prompt.
Sitting on my sofa, the late afternoon light
is filtering through the green curtains
that have followed me into every house
of my adulthood.
Not every house a home
but every place brimming with the potential of
finally coming home.
The many houses I have drifted among
have been built with brick and concrete.
I want my home built on something stronger.
Something I can fit into my pockets and take with me.
Like the flowers I used to collect outside
as a little girl to bring to my mother.
Crumpled upon arrival but always accepted,
What I mean is a home is not a place at all
rather it is a sensation beyond knowing.
A feeling in my bones
this is exactly where I am meant to be.
Cultivating gratitude as a farmer hoes the ground
before planting seeds each spring.
Tenderly caring for each budding plant
so it can flourish, grow and belong.
I can feel the warm fur of my dog curled up next to me
and the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.
A position she can find almost anywhere
but today has chosen join me in the sunlight.
Then she rests her soft little head in my lap
looks up at me with her trusting brown eyes saying:
I love you.
Love and Light,
Kristin (& Luna)