Blossoms Around Town


I have wondered over the years, as I see the emphasis on being buoyant, outgoing, and cheerful as the hallmark of a fun yoga teacher, whether it is possible to be a successful yoga teacher in today’s society if one (like me) tends toward introversion and shyness. I recently heard an internationally recognized teacher say that the way to know if you are a successful teacher is if your classes are consistently doubling in size. Ever-growing classes are certainly important to help the teacher and the studio pay the rent, but is that the key measure of individual success? I think part of the sense that the measure of success is a burgeoning group of people attracted to the teacher is our societal premium on extroversion. A more introverted teacher may not seem as cuddly and fun outside of class, but may have other things to offer that in fact grow from his or her tendency towards introversion.
Check out this article for some perspective on introversion in today’s society. What are your thoughts about this in the context of yoga?
This morning, as I read this poem by Janet Hoffman, which is collected in Plain Living–A Quaker Path to Simplicity by Catherine Whitmire, I thought of friends and family and students and colleagues who are living with loss and illness and other struggles.
I wish sometimes that I could heal or make happy everyone I know. Knowing that is not possible or even right, I wish for myself and those in need to know strength and courage and joy even when faced with causes for deep suffering.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

As you can see from the photo, this tender arugula was not likely to make it through the night (temperatures forecast to be in the mid-20s). It is a cause for great celebration that it made it through last weekend’s snow storm, several nights below freezing, and provided a little spice to my salads for a couple of months. It lasts this long because I over plant, first eat the greens as I thin them, then pick them by the leaf rather than by the root to encourage the plants to grow more vigorously, and finally start pulling them up by the handful when the danger of hard frost calls for the inevitable demise. Tonight, I cut everything in the pot down to about a 1/2 inch. It is possible, though not likely based on the current forecast of a cooler than normal winter, that if we got a couple of warm weeks in late January or early February that it would come back.
I am celebrating what I have grown in this tiny space and the exquisite delight of eating greens from right outside my door this late into the year. I am sad that the outdoor gardening season is just about over; I will miss it. If I had more space or a firmer intention (maybe the latter will come in another year or two), I could build a cold frame or go for plastic tunnels. In my little micro-climate, that would probably get me through the winter. I rather like, though, a space of time with no obligation to the outdoor garden. A time to dream rather than work. I know what a luxury it is to be able to rest in such a way and still have bountiful food.