It's Only A Paper Rose

...In truth, I feel like I have to keep learning this over and over.  Hopefully I'm making progress as well.

As usual, spring feels like it comes about three weeks late to Chicago, but it's finally come—there are no days in the upcoming forecast where the weather's dipping below freezing, and in fact it's supposed to get up to 70 (albeit cloudy and windy) next week. More to the point, yesterday was the first day where the weather was nice enough, long enough, for me to take Gabriel up to Sauganash for my Monday commute. I was a little concerned about being out of shape; it's about five and a half miles each way, depending on the route you take. But I've been going to Sculpt semi-regularly (which always includes a good cardio section) and also biking to and from Lincoln Square (between 1.5 and 2 miles each way) regularly, so it wasn't anywhere near as much of a strain as I was concerned. It probably also helped that I was careful to actually eat enough calories; Brian pointed out that maybe part of the reason I was so tired all the time last summer was that I get so busy running from engagement to engagement that I forget to eat. (I'd still eat at mealtimes, usually, but I have trouble downing huge portions at once; I'm more of a grazer.) So I was careful to make sure I got enough food...and aided in that goal by Breanne (the studio manager) bringing in chocolate cupcakes that were bigger than my fist. The fact that I demolished about two-thirds of one with lunch, and still ended up under my calorie budget, gives you an idea of how much I was moving yesterday, haha.

My evening C2 was particularly interesting. I had a student walk in fairly early; I went to sign him in...and his name came up as "Chris Evans". He was not the Captain America Chris Evans, but of course I had to take a second look. When he caught me looking, I made some dumb joke about "You're a little smaller in person,"; he dutifully laughed and headed to the locker rooms, and my desk shift partner and I chatted a bit about various celebrity sightings we've heard about in the yoga community. Then he comes back, asks some minor question, and when I give him an answer, thanks me and flashes a truly megawatt smile—like, I'm pretty sure he practices in the mirror—before heading into the studio. My colleague and I sort of sat there, stunned for a moment, until I commented, "Well, *now* he's as good-looking as Captain America." Alas, he lives downtown and was only in the area for a work event, so I'm unlikely to see him again, but dang.

Needless to say, I was particularly pleased that my class came out extra well—not that it was perfect (no class ever is), but it was the second week doing this sequence, so I already had a good toolbox of cues, I could see people improving throughout the class (always a sign you're teaching well), and I'm particularly pleased with my theme this week and felt I wove it in solidly without hammering on it too hard. Honestly, I think it was one of the best C2 classes I've ever taught; it's amazing what wanting to impress an attractive audience member does for one's inspiration.

In weirder news, I have literally not read anything book-wise this week. Some of this has been the aforementioned cycles being taken up by house-hunting (it's a surprisingly emotionally-intensive activity, especially when you have a partner and you're having to negotiate your respective needs), but also, the time I normally spend reading has actually been taken up by writing. For the first time in a long while, I have an idea in my head that won't let go, despite being emotionally murky and requiring multiple rewrites—usually I lose interest after a week or so if I haven't found the clear arc. My brain is still convinced there's something good there, though, so I'm keeping at it...so this is basically an apology for not having a Wednesday book post tomorrow. I promise I'm not turning into one of those "I want to be a writer but I just don't have time to read" people, heh.

What I've just finished reading

Ancillary Mercy, by Ann Leckie. A couple of years ago, Brian and I started watching Star Trek: The Next Generation via Netflix, and it occurred to me how fundamentally different it was from anything I'd seen on television over the past couple of decades; specifically, the way the Enterprise crew fundamentally assumed from the get-go that any aliens it encountered, no matter how powerful or strange, could be reasoned with - they might or might not hold the same values humanity did, but that there was always some common ground. Several of the best episodes ("Darmok" comes to mind, though there are others) centered on this idea, in fact. (I'm far from the first person to observe this about the show, but growing up watching primarily Star Trek spinoffs and very little other television, it never really struck me until then exactly how unusual that was. I remember, in fact, watching the new Battlestar Galactica in my twenties and thinking how much more appropriate it was, in a post-9/11 landscape, to have a sci-fi show that addressed the more distrustful aspects of humanity...and only realized some seasons later how depressing it got because it almost continually refused to acknowledge the flip side, perhaps because it was afraid of being compared to Star Trek.)

I bring this up because this series is one of the first that I've seen that does something different with the space opera formula. Even my beloved Vorkosigan series, delightful as it is, tends to have easily-identifiable characters and follow fairly standard plot arcs; this is hardly surprising, as tropes and archetypes are integral to our storytelling traditions. But the Ancillary books could almost entirely be summed up in this one line, from a recent installment of a different space opera franchise: "This is not going to go the way you think." And while lots of stories attempt to do what Leckie does here - subvert expectations, zig when you think it's going to zag, create fascinating characters and a meaty conflict with a satisfying resolution without a single Giant Space Battle - I've rarely seen it pulled off with such aplomb. It's not Star Wars-style space opera, about myth or the expectations that myth generates; it's not Star Trek either (the one alien race we have even tangential contact with, the Presger, are notable for precisely how alien they are - threatening not due to their desire for power or territory or resources, but because we can't even conceptualize of what they want). It's something completely its own, and refreshing, and so well-built that I can't quite believe it's over - the characters and their world still exist vividly in my head, long after I've put the book down.

What I'm currently reading

Winter Garden, by Kristin Hannah. I feel like this book started about ten chapters too early - I'm seven hours in to the audiobook and it's only just starting to really pique my interest. While I get what the author was doing - Nina and Meredith's mother is so completely closed-off that it takes their father's death, the frustration of Nina's career prospects, and the dissolution of Meredith's marriage in order to get them to the point where they're finally in a place to make the effort to get her to open up - it basically translated to six and a half hours of listening to "hey, these people have problems, and hey look, those problems are getting worse!" Which, now that I think about it, may well be preparing me to dive into some Russian history and literature, although perhaps not how I was intending it to. :P Still, I'm enjoying their mother's 'fairy tale', even if the contrivance feels--well--contrived; how is it not plainly obvious to both of these women that this is their mother's life story, thinly veiled?

Ella Enchanted, by Gail Carson Levine. I've only read the first chapter or so, and I already like Ella - cursed with the 'virtue' of forced obedience, she develops a rebellious streak and finds creative ways to subvert it. I'm looking forward to this one, despite my general dislike of Clumsy Heroine Syndrome.

What I plan to read next

Might as well get a start on Yoga Sequencing, since I made it one of my New Year's goals. I haven't been journaling as much as I'd like to, either, so I think I'm going to go with the idea I had before - set aside the time to read a chapter each week, and journal about how I might apply it in my work.

As I mentioned earlier, I've hit something of a bump in the road with my yoga teaching. Or maybe less of a bump than an extended rough patch, replete with "Fresh Oil" and "Rough Grooved Surface" signs. Which probably wouldn't be so frustrating if there were also a "next 500 feet" sign, or at least some indicator of how long it was going to last. And I'm probably extending the metaphor past the point of awkwardness, so let me back up.

A couple of months ago I started teaching C2 classes at CorePower. This is their signature offering and therefore sort of the 'big leagues' for teachers; you teach in a hot studio (93 to 95 degrees F) and have the option to create your own sequences for class. Other than that, it's not much different from the C1 format, at least not unless you change it up; you're supposed to stick with the CPY formula when building your sequences (though veteran teachers have been known to change it up some), so the arc of the class remains similar, as does the cue formula and theming and everything else.

And yet...I'm having a lot of trouble finding my groove in this format. It feels a little like learning to drive stick when you're used to an automatic, except it took me a lot effort time to pick that up. And to make it extra frustrating, I don't have a concrete idea of what's wrong; my classes just aren't...gelling. They're not disasters, not usually; nobody's hurt themselves or even given me negative feedback. I get lots of "Thanks for the class" and "Great class" from people as they leave. But I'm not connecting with them the way I want to, the way I know I can; after my C1s and CoreRestores, people linger and want to talk. After my C2s...not so much. Brian thinks I'm overthinking it, and maybe he's right, but dammit, I've taken a lot of yoga classes, and taught a few as well; I know the difference between an okay class and a great class, and I want to teach the latter. I've managed to hit that feeling exactly once - the third one I taught - but the rest have felt...awkward at best. And I can't seem to figure out what the problem is.

Initially, I wondered if maybe my sequences were too advanced for the population I was teaching. I usually go to class at Uptown, since it's close by, so that's roughly the level I was aiming for - but while it's not quite to the level of Gold Coast in terms of hardcore yoga folks, it still has a strong community of dedicated yogis who go multiple times per week. Sauganash, where I have my C2 class, is a little more laid-back; the regulars there are more the "go once or twice a week when I can find space in my schedule" types. Given that people were starting to nope out by midway through the second flow, and that the majority reactions to my peak pose demonstrations ranged from "uh-uh" to "WTF?", I figured - after several weeks, heh - that maybe I should scale it back a bit.

So last week, that's what I did. And the results were...mixed. It definitely felt more in line with the capabilities of the class I had, so that was helpful. But I still felt like I was flubbing half the cues, my timing was off, and I couldn't find that sense of flow. And it didn't help that I forgot basics like the hands-on assist opt-out at the start of class. Augh.

Some of it is probably just lack of familiarity with the material. I've gone from teaching a set sequence every week to doing a new sequence every couple of weeks, replete with poses I've never taught before; while writing out cues to use with them has helped, it's harder to respond in a timely and articulate manner to the various trouble spots and misalignments I see in class. Anatomy training helps, but often I'll think something like "engage your adductors", which isn't terribly useful to someone who doesn't know the name of their inner thigh muscles, and also presumes they have the body awareness necessary to know how to tighten them. "Squeeze your thighs together" is better, but I feel like I use that cue a lot; maybe developing a stable of action cues meant to engage various muscle groups would be a good step.

Some of it, yes, is overthinking; I feel like I spend so many cycles trying to remember what's coming next in the sequence that I end up dropping cues I intend to use or sometimes whole sections of the flow (although luckily the students usually remind me when that happens). Sometimes I'm trying to figure out how to articulate a particular cue and end up with an awkwardly long period of silence, which throws off the whole rhythm of the class. And of course when I'm already feeling off-balance I'm much more likely to mentally freak out about forgetting something, or not having enough poses to fill the time, or spending too much time in one place, or any of the plates I have spinning at a given moment.

But here's the thing - I didn't expect this to be easy. Learning C1s wasn't easy; even CoreRestore, the format I enjoy teaching most, took time to get comfortable with. I'm a little frustrated at how long it's taking me, but given how much more material I'm dealing with, it's not that surprising. So I'm trying to figure out why I'm feeling so frustrated about this.

The best answer I can come up with is related to my perfectionism. I've gotten better about needing to always be 100% perfect every time I do something (because when that's the case, you never learn anything new, heh). But it's much, much tougher for me to be imperfect in front of people. With music, with writing, even with learning a new language, I've been able to learn a fair amount entirely on my own, or with the help of a trusted few; by the time I've shown my efforts to the world, I'm at least competent. But with teaching, by definition it's going to be a performative effort, which means the only way to get better is to mess up, publicly, over and over again. And the fact that I'm being paid (not a lot, but still paid) for what feels like continually messing up adds a whole other layer of expectation and frustration.

I know I'm probably being a little hard on myself. But...I'd just really like to get past this part. Please?

I was working during the eclipse yesterday and it was pretty cloudy here in Chicago, so I didn't do much of anything special. I did leave for work early, expecting the traffic to be nutty - you can bet I had all my brightly colored reflective gear plus blinky lights on my bike. But if anything, it was the opposite; the on-road portions of my commute were calm, and the parks nearly deserted. I did pass a few people in various neighborhoods standing outside looking up with their eclipse glasses; combined with the quieter-than-average streets, it felt more than a bit like I'd stumbled into a sci-fi movie about a culture that takes in its energy from the noonday sun.

I was a little surprised to have three students (a not-unusual number for a daytime beginner class); I'd half-expected everyone to be busy eclipse-watching. I'd built a vaguely eclipse-themed playlist, too, but Apple Music was giving me trouble, so I wasn't able to use it. Luckily nobody there had been to my C1 class before, so I was able to reuse a previous playlist and not feel like I was slacking, heh.

I've been in a somewhat subdued place, this week. I've been ruminating on loss, and how it affects us; even something like a job or a relationship (or the hope of a relationship) ending, where there's no physical change, still causes a sense of bereavement. It occurs to me that I am experiencing a loss of sorts; even though I didn't have a lot of plans per se (it's hard to when the other party leads solely by implication), I had a lot of hopes, and ideas for the future. It's tough to realize that those are gone permanently, at least in that form. Something I'd worked carefully toward for so long has just...evanesced, and I feel a little adrift.

Relatedly, I finally finished Come As You Are, and the last section is all about emotional meta-analysis - or how you feel about your feelings. One of the things Nagoski points out that I particularly love is that emotional reactions (contrary to the claims of numerous inspirational quotes) are not something you can choose or control; what you can control is your reaction to those emotions, by either refusing to feel them - staying in the tunnel - or allowing yourself space to feel them, knowing that while they may not feel good in the moment, they will pass; eventually you'll make it through the darkness and out into the light. It's proven to be a good yoga-class theme for the week of an eclipse, as well as for my life right now.

Also, a yoga-teacher milestone reached: yesterday one of my students told me how she'd come into my CoreRestore class on Sunday night extremely nervous about an important job interview on Monday, so my theme about choosing to feel your feelings and let them go really spoke to her. Apparently she slept great on Sunday night, aced the interview, got the job, and came into my C1 class Monday afternoon to celebrate. I was so happy for her. <3

I'm just over halfway through my internship, and picked up enough substitute classes to shave off more than a month (it's been less than two months, as opposed to the three-and-a-half it would have taken if I'd only taught my single regular weekly class). I've successfully dealt with a couple of unexpected issues mid-class - including, one memorable week, a confused-seeming woman bursting in through the emergency exit door (!) in the middle of a class, saying something about wanting her free week. (We have signs in the window advertising a free first week; she had found the front door locked and gone around to the side, where apparently I hadn't pulled the door all the way shut after airing out the studio. I gently-but-firmly explained to her that she'd need to come back before a class, through the front. Fortunately she left without incident; it was disconcerting, but happened at a convenient stopping point and I just skipped ahead to the next section of class.)

As with any performative skill, I have a hard time measuring objectively how I'm doing - whenever anyone asks how my internship is going, I say something like "Well, I haven't killed anyone yet, so I guess it's going well!" That said, I do feel like I'm settling into a rhythm of sorts. I'm more confident, at least within the confines of the format. I'm getting better at the more conversational parts, too, although I usually do some journaling and occasionally practicing in the shower to make sure I can convey my point in the limited time window. Somewhat entertainingly, Dominika (my two-levels-up supervisor/former anatomy teacher/friend/person I greatly admire, who also has taught at CorePower for years and knows basically everyone in the community) came to one of my classes...and of course it was the morning that I'd forgotten I was subbing an earlier class and was mildly hungover. Oops. I got out there and taught as well as I could; I knew I wasn't running at 100%, but past that, I couldn't really tell how I'd come off. So I braced myself for some honest feedback...and then Dominika came out and unhesitatingly told me I was already a better teacher than people she knew who'd been teaching for ten years. o.O Well, I wasn't going to look that gift horse in the mouth, even if I felt a little undeserving, heh. Still, that combined with the fact that I regularly have students inquire what classes I teach on the schedule tells me I'm doing something right.

Making playlists remains one of my favorite parts of the job; this week's, however, was giving me trouble. I'd challenged myself to make something more instrumental-focused, since I'd noticed that it was easier to teach when I wasn't having to compete vocally with singers. And I discovered that figuring out instrumental tracks is a lot more time-consuming - it's harder for me to bring a song's hook to mind without a chorus to hum. I ended up working on that one right down to the wire, convinced that it wasn't one of my stronger efforts...and discovered in situ that it actually was one of my best in terms of mood and timing. (Gift horse number 2!) I also had multiple people comment how much they liked it after the three classes I taught yesterday and today; that marks the first time anyone's commented on the music specifically. Combined with the positive feedback I've seen other teachers get on mostly-instrumental playlists, that seems like a strong indicator...I guess I'm going to have to get better at remembering song hooks and start listening to more instrumental music.

So that's the first half done! I suspect the second may take a bit longer, as I have a vacation coming up and also some visitors, but we'll see. The weather has been mostly excellent, so between teaching at Lincoln Square and Uptown and Sauganash, I've been biking all over the far north side of Chicago; I've been packing my little rechargeable Bluetooth carabiner speaker and having a complete blast listening to the Awesome Mix as I pedal against the wind. My thighs are going to be massive by the end of summer.