First, I think it’s only fair to say that I’ve accepted that my best guy friend Dan has been abducted by aliens.
There’s really no other explanation for 2 days without communication, particularly given that he’s in Sedona.
And, more importantly, quite frankly that’s what he’d want me to think. [I’m not kidding –– that’s how his brain works. When the shoes in his closet were suddenly organized his first thought was “what are the aliens trying to say to me?” and his fifteenth thought was “Oh, right … I hired a cleaning lady yesterday.”]
In any case, I listened to my Human Design reading again from this November and got so much more out of it. It’s so funny that these –– like Abraham recordings –– really seem to have new things on them each time you listen to them.
I had different take-aways this time, including what my correct relationship should be towards students viz a viz my Human Design info.
For one thing, I should trust that the right students will find me, that I should teach authentically and know that they will somehow be drawn to me.
And I do believe that, given that I taught for a long stretch at the first LL in NYC before the latter years of always full/sold-out classes. Your people, your tribe, does just sort of find you.
[And on the larger level, students = readers of my new books. Trusting that the work will draw them is an INTENSE practice.]
But today I found myself musing about the unbelievable rewards of teaching small group classes versus the economics of time and money involved.
For example, all of my classes at the Lotus for one month (with a little travel time through in) end up equal to what I make in 1.25 hours of teaching a private lesson.
Of course, no one becomes a yoga teacher as a “get rich quick scheme,” and if I really wanted to do, I suppose I could use Yale and other connections to re-invent myself at a Hedge Fund … but still …
I’m enjoying these musings because it’s kind of Win/Win –– I love teaching and I love everything else that’s going on so I can’t lose –– but it’s interesting to unravel how much is (non-helpful) ego, how much is common sense economics and wise career strategy, and how much is about doing what I love for close to karma yoga wages.
Earlier in the Fall when I was having a low spell mood-wise, I have to say that teaching was incredibly helpful to me as a distraction, no more than that –– almost a meditation. For 1.5 hours or so, I had to be focused on something besides my own challenges and frustrations. Experienced as I am at teaching –– you can wake me at 4 am and I can sequence a fine vinyasa class in my semi-sleep –– I still need (or maybe just PREFER) to pay attention while offering instruction in the poses. Unlike almost everything else, from driving to answering emails, I had to focus a bit more fully on what was happening in front of me rather than what was going on in my head.
And yet right now –– post Human Design with some Inner Child icing-on-the-cake –– I feel pretty awesome.
There’s a savvy part of me that keeps nudging that I really should be writing a solid draft on the screenplay of the novel before my lunch with the Oscar-winning producers in late Jan/Feb. (In my mind, she brings the Best Picture Oscar to our lunch, as though it’s something she just carries around with her constantly.)
I also want to work on the 8 week video course of Awesome Abs based on my January 29th Workshop at the Lotus.
Basically, there’s A LOT of things requiring, seducing, even demanding my time.
And yet there’s still something to be said for the satisfactions of teaching a room full of live (mostly unabducted) humans.
Just last week, I assisted someone in her first headstand and she spontaneously high-fived me afterwards, extremely delighted by her break-through moment.
No matter how successful my online video courses might be, I doubt they will ever high-five me back in triumph, and that’s something I’d really, really miss.
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