I haven’t met a single YB yogi or yogini who isn’t a huge fan of the insanely talented, warm, focused, and hilarious Edna Barr. I recently moved to San Francisco, and have been dropping in at different studios just for fun, and NO ONE holds a candle to my beloved Yoga Belly. The instructors here have spoiled me, I’m not just impressed with any old yoga class anymore!

Anyway, as many of you know, we will be hosting an upcoming teacher training this spring. I was curious about it myself, so I asked Edna to sit down and answer a few questions about what the training will cover. Here are her insightful answers, and I thought I’d pass them on to anyone who’s still on the fence…

-What will this class cover/involve?

This course is accredited with Yoga Alliance so we have to cover everything they require in order to register with them. Yoga philosophy, history, all eight limbs in detail.

-Who would benefit from taking this class/training?

Anyone & everyone! I have been on staff teaching this course internationally for the past 3 years & I fall in love with it over & over again. Even though we are covering the same information; it is so profound each & every time. Information ministers to us on different levels during different times in our lives. It is always an awakening as well as a reminder of what is truly important.

-What will a typical class look like?

The course is broken down into 3 hour sessions that cover a variety of topics so there no real “typical” session. The teaching style is repetitive so we will do a daily review of Sanskrit to ensure memory retention. Other than that, each session will be a new experience!

-How did you train to become a yoga teacher?

Haha! I have never heard this question before but the more I think about it, the more I feel that they should be a very common question. Yes, we absolutely must train to become a yoga teacher… There is a misconception that once you complete your YTT course; one is ready to start teaching but nobody trained them to teach…
You train by first being taught how to teach. Then you practice, get feedback, practice some more & get more feedback. A teacher training course is a safe space to learn, practice, get feedback & sharpen your skills before making a public debut. Too many courses out there do not prepare you for this. Rather they leave you to debut as an amateur instead of a professionally trained instructor. Becoming a teacher takes time & experience, but one should have a solid foundation from which to build upon.

-What do you hope to share with your students?

Wow, everything. I hope to share yoga… The full meaning, the full experience, the complete satisfaction & joy of yoga. That samadhi, even a tiny morsel of it, is wondrous.

-How is this program different from other teacher training programs out there?

Well, I mentioned some of it above where this course will prepare you to actually teach. There is a difference between an instructor who calls out cues & instructs and a teacher who can asses the room & actually teach. Once again it takes time & experience to learn to teach but standing in front of a crowded room reciting a generic script is not going to help anyone deepen their practice. I have students who have been practicing much longer than I have; never would I assume that I could teach them something but I do have the ability to assist them to go deeper.

This course is different because it is completely interactive. We don’t just give you a reading assignment & hope that you fully comprehend it. We come back & discuss it, find out if & how it resonated with you. We don’t want you to simply memorize the philosophy; we want you to understand how to live by it & make this life the best it can be.

We spend each day going over hands on assists & adjustments. I was speaking to the owner of an award winning studio last week & she said mentioned that they don’t teach assist in their YTT because of the liability. I responded by saying, “well even more so the importance to teach instructors the proper way to assist.” She nodded her head in agreement…

-How is teaching this program different from teaching your regular asana classes?

Oh gosh, another fantastic question! When we teach an asana class that is what we are there for. Too many teachers insist on cramming every element of yoga into a 60-90 minute class. Many students also expect a full yogic experience in this same amount of time. The truth is none of it can be rushed… If you want to learn philosophy, study it. If you want to learn meditation, study it. If you want to learn more pranayama techniques, study it. You come to an asana class to learn asana. Sure we practice a bit of pranayama but only as it pertains to the asana. Perhaps we throw in some calming, restorative breathing or meditation techniques but to think that 5 minutes of pranayama, 10 min warm up for asana, 30 minutes of asana, 5 minutes of restorative, 5 minutes meditation & 5 minutes of savasana with the instructor constantly talking you through each minute is a complete yogic experience… *sigh* That isn’t it…

More often than not people say that my classes are not spiritual enough which makes me laugh because I have practiced yoga my entire life. I grew up with meditation, the wonder & awe of life, spent a lot of time in the Hare Krishna temple as a teenager. Just because I don’t feel the need to preach one thing in the classroom & turn around & live another doesn’t mean that I do not live in a constant state of truth & bliss… How I can teach others to obtain this same bliss? I cannot… It is their journey to learn to surrender, seek knowledge & accept.

This is what I truly hope to share in this course. I hope that it will change everyone who attends the way that it has changed me. I have always been able to see the divine light in others but it took a lot of work to finally see the divine light in myself.

A few weeks ago, Will and Aaron took us on a team training excursion: aerial yoga in Campbell. I envisioned Cirque du Soleil type trapeze stuff, I was all about it. The second we arrived in the studio, Stasha and I just started playing… getting a running start, we’d swing in the hammocks, flip ourselves upside down, and take boat pose just inches off the ground. It was SUPER fun.

Once class started, we all felt pretty awesome. Like, even though we’ve never done this before, we can totally do aerial. We’re yogis. We can pretty much do anything. When the instructor complimented our bulldog-style breathing (“I love a class that can breathe!”) we felt pretty confident. We used the hammock like a strap to open our shoulders, which felt amazing. We did chaturangas with our feet in the hammocks, which made them infinitely harder. I, being the accidental-yoga-slacker that I am (I always forget to engage SOMETHING that should be engaged, even when I focus), felt my core fire up way more than normal. Perhaps this is what it should always feel like? Hmmm. What a thought.

After warming up, it became clear that aerial yoga is not just fun, it’s HARD. We started doing the upside down stuff. This is where it got a little difficult for me. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE going upside down, but I hardly ever do it for more than a minute at a time. In aerial, we spent a lot of time upside down, and it was significantly more than I was used to. I’d have to come up and let the blood drain back into my body, I’d have to shimmy around and get the hammock to sit more comfortably on my hips, I’d have to raise my hands above my head to get them to stop feeling so puffy. I turned red as a tomato, and sometimes forgot to breathe, and wondered if I was the only one in the room who felt like my head was possibly going to explode.

Then I saw Stasha totally rocking her upside-down-dancer’s pose. It was beautiful, she was hanging upside down, her face calm, both feet gripping her foot behind her, letting the motions of the hammock twirl her gently in the sunlight. It was just stunning.

“Wow,” I said, “That looks awesome. How can you even do that?”

“You can do it too,” she said, “Your foot is right there, just grab it.”

I flailed my fingers around a little, felt something warm and chubby, and felt a tingling sensation somewhere just above my head.

“Holy shit,” I said, “There’s my foot!”

And right then, I felt like I “got” it.

Maybe I had to give up my dream of Cirque du Soleil (s’ok, Loran’s going to go represent us all) but I did learn something from my afternoon upside down. Literally, it came in the form of my foot: I can never quite reach my foot in eka pada rajakapotasana, but for some reason, I could when I was inverted. More importantly, it was fun to play around, and to step outside my comfort zone, push the boundaries of the familiar. It gave me a sense of heightened awareness, a freedom to fool around, and permission to say Umm, that feels weird.

So. Would I trade my vinyasa flow for aerial? Probably not. Would I do it again? Definitely. Was it awesome to bond with the very people who make Yoga Belly the amazing, quirky studio that it is? Umm, yeah, because anytime your ass is spinning around upside down offering all your neighbors a panoramic view, it, well, builds some trust. Did I learn that defamiliarizing something you love can open up possibilities that you didn’t know existed? Absolutely.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why it’s important to, on occasion, step outside of your comfort zone. Even if it’s just with a baby toe. Like, a baby toe, in your hand, right above your head, which is upside down.

Let’s just all pretend that made sense.

Oh, and savasana in a giant hammock-cocoon thing? Best. Thing. Ever.

You might think of yoga as gentle and restorative (at least, until you know better, and realize that yoga can kick your ass) but that line of thinking can be dangerous. ANY activity comes with inherent risks, and yoga is no exception.

You can get hurt. Really hurt. A recent New York Times article outlines just some of the havoc that yoga can wreak on your body.

Luckily, I can’t speak from too much experience here. I have yet to injure myself in yoga (knock on wood). I think I have, however, come close. One time, I was so deep in a twist that I felt this weird, sudden shift in my ribs– it didn’t hurt, but it startled me, and I came out of the pose right away and everything was fine. Another time, as I was working on a bind, I felt these weird shocks all of a sudden, like mini bursts of electricity shooting through me. I assumed I somehow touched on a nerve, and again, it didn’t hurt, but I came out of the pose thinking, “Whoa.” I probably shouldn’t have done that. I probably take my backbends too far sometimes, and wake up the next morning more tender than I should be.

It’s a fine line to walk: on the one hand, you want to push yourself, and you’re doing all this funky stuff with your body that you’ve never done before, everything’s so unfamiliar! How can you tell when you cross the line from challenging and new to dangerous and over the edge?

For now, my answer is: know thyself. I know I have a tendency to push it, so I need to work on playing it safe. Not wussing out by any means, but respecting and protecting my body. It’s just not worth an injury that will leave me out of commission for weeks and weeks!

So now, readers out there, what do you think? Have you ever injured yourself in your practice? Have you come close? How can you tell when you’re flirting with danger?

Yoga is, by nature, an accepting, less “judgy” practice than a lot of other fitness regimes (for lack of a better word), but there is still an unspoken code of conduct. Here are some bits of yoga etiquette that I wish I had known early on:

Before Class:

-Arrive on Time: If you must be late, (it happens), be quick and discreet about it. If you’re going to be more than 10-15 minutes late, you may opt to come back another day.

-Turn off your Cell Phone: For reals. Nothing takes you out of your hard earned savasana like the “I’m a Slave for You” ring tone going on in your neighbor’s purse.

-Take Off Your Shoes: No shoes in the studio! Gross!

-Don’t Be a Mirror Hog: Be aware of mirror space, and try to avoid plunking down right in front of a fellow yogi, or otherwise hogging the mirror. All you need is a few inches.

During Class:

-Modify Appropriately: Be the master of your own practice, and by all means challenge yourself. Make the practice yours.

-Don’t Fall on Anyone: That said, please don’t fall on anyone. It’s dangerous and not at all cool.

After Class:

-Try Not To Leave Early: But if you must, don’t interrupt savasana for others.

-Thank Your Instructor: Respect your instructor by thanking her for guiding you through the poses.

-Give everyone sloppy kisses, heartfelt good byes, and loving booty-smacks!

Heh. That last one is optional. Maybe after you’ve had a few weeks of bonding with other yogis : )

And now, in case for some reason you ever need to change in public, here’s a guide on how to change clothes after practicing yoga without inflicting on God and everyone the sight of your splayed buttocks.

Remember those picture puzzles you saw as a kid? Where you look at two copies of the same picture, but you have to find the six differences? Okay, let’s do that again, with these bad boys:

Don’t cheat! Take a minute to really look, and see if you can find anything. Don’t cheat…

Okay, what did you see? Because before my private lesson with Edna, I just saw my feet: flat on the ground in the first picture, and then up on my tippy toes for the second one. I would work on backbends and home, or look sideways in the mirror at the studio, and it all looked the same to me.

Kids, this is why you need a private lesson. Don’t get me wrong, instructors have adjusted my backbends before, and they’d say things like, “make a C with your spine,” “don’t put too much pressure on your low back,” etc, and I made a very concerted effort to listen and tune in to my body. And when they’d come over and pull up on my ribs, I’d definitely feel the difference, but not long enough for my muscles to remember the sensation. I’d flounder around afterwards, trying to recapture that elusive feeling, more or less to no avail. Then in Jeff’s class I realized I was doing things COMPLETELY wrong and I realized I needed some extra guidance. The spine is a very precious, delicate thing, I didn’t want to mess around with it.

So, I had another private lesson with the fabulous Edna Barr. In my opinion, the three best things about private lessons with her are:

1) Concentrated effort on your particular practice: your challenges, your whims, your body.

2) Professional explanation and unparalleled attention. If she explains something and I don’t get it, she’ll explain it again a different way, until it “clicks.”

3) The full body massage.

We spent an hour working together, of course starting with headstand and handstand, warming up with some vinyasas (which still give me grief, oy vey), and when I was warm enough to sweat we moved into backbends.

For the record, PLEASE DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME, you really need someone who knows what they’re doing to spot you, backbends feel amazing and wonderful but it’s also not hard to overdo it and injure yourself. Not worth it! Approach your favorite instructor, one who really “gets” you, and don’t go hurting yourself.

We started with bridge, then moved into full wheel, and I learned to rock back and forth to get more into my upper back. After every pose, Edna would work over my back with a delicious massage, it felt amazing. Finally, I got up into headstand (yes, headstand), and she helped guide me back into what might just have been the deepest backbend of my life. Y’all, my ELBOWS were on the ground, I could hardly breathe, and then when she told me to lift up my head, I was like, “What?” I don’t know about you, but when I’m in a pose like that, I hardly know my own name, I’m concentrating so hard just on breathing through the pose and not passing out that any verbal instruction is just totally wasted on me.

Edna knows this, and took pictures to help me. At first, she took a picture of my bad habits: the way I dumped into my lumbar spine, and kept my shoulders over my hands. After some coaching, she got me into a backbend that felt very different: there was significantly more action in my upper back, my shoulders crept towards my elbows, and the bend was so deep there was no way I could keep my feet flat on the floor (give me a few years!). The photos really helped me visualize the difference in my backbends, and it was so helpful to be able to scroll back and forth, rather than crane my neck to the side and try to see in a mirror, huffing and puffing and too “in the zone” to understand anything.

So! That’s the latest update in the Adventures of Tristen. I can’t believe we went from HEADSTAND to a backbend, I just can’t wrap my brain around that. But yes, it happened, and I think it happened a lot sooner than it would have because of the private, personalized guidance of a capable, thoughtful, and loving instructor.

Thank you so much to Edna, and all the amazing instructors at Yoga Belly! You ALL are fabulous!

… this time, involves backbends. Apparently I’ve been doing them COMPLETELY WRONG. Yoga, you humble me yet again.

Spoiler alert: I originally tried to keep the instructor’s identity secret, so that I wouldn’t bias anyone for or against said instructor and you’d all be free to connect privately with the instructor who speaks to you, knows your practice, etc. But, then I realized that, to write about my experience honestly, I had to describe the instructor’s approach fully, and that would give it all away. The second I wrote “diamond in the sky” you’d all get it, so whatever: it’s Edna.

So yeah. After “warming up” (I won’t lie, I was way beyond warm, and already feeling the burn), we moved into sun salutations. All I did was stand up straight at the top of my mat, and Edna simply observed me: in her professional, caring, non-judgmental way.

“Hmm,” she remarked, “Your ankles are different.”

I looked down at my feet. They looked pretty similar to me, but what do I know. Then she gently pointed to the humped bones of my ankles, one of which seemed to “stick out” a little more than the other. Weird. Here I’ve had these ankles for 27 years and I’ve never noticed, but she had picked up on it after only a few minutes.

“Oh well,” she said, “Everyone’s a little different, and it shouldn’t stop you.”

Whew!

We started to flow through some sun salutations, and my down-dog got worked over like nobody’s business. Apparently, I took it a little too literally when someone described it to me as a “resting pose.” I just kinda stuck my butt up in the air, pressed through my heels until I could feel my calves sing a little, and rolled my shoulders back. I did make an effort to spread my fingers and ground through my hands, and I was pretty proud of myself for remembering to take my yoga so seriously.

Right.

The first thing Edna did was to place her hands firmly in the center of my upper back, and apply smooth pressure to straighten out my spine. She turned my mat perpendicular to the mirror, and said, “Watch this. Don’t look up until I tell you.” After straightening my spine, she stood up and rotated my pelvis out and up, so the tops of my hipbones were angled toward my shoulders, rather than straight down at the floor. Then, she got behind me, wrapped her hands around my thighs, and pulled back. I felt my heels inch incrementally closer to the ground, I felt the balls of my feet ground more firmly below me, I felt my spine lengthen and tailbone pointing up.

“Now look,” she said. I turned my head to the mirror and saw myself, sweating and red, but in the shape of a nearly perfect upside-down V. Damn, I’ve never looked so good!

She let go of my legs and I shifted subtly forward, not quite the perfect V I had been a moment ago.

“Uh oh,” Edna said, “what happened?” I shrugged and she came back around, tapped the tops of my quads. “Engage here,” she said.

I tried. Nothing happened.

She tapped my thighs again and said, “Right here. Make this hard.”

I tried, but remained squishy. Edna furrowed her brows and told me to come out of the pose and stand up. I did, and she knocked lightly on my quads until, finally, they tightened, then she said, “There! That’s it! I knew you were stronger than that,” and told me to get back down into my DD and keep those thighs as flexed as they had been when I was standing up.

And what do you know, I found my hamstrings.

Somehow, I had spent months listening to this same instructor tell me to do all these things: lift my chest, ground through my hands and feet, and engage my inner thighs, but only now, after being painstakingly molded and tweaked into position, did I get it. So this is down dog. Well, hello there.

Shoulderstand is not an inversion that I’ve always loved. It’s hard to breathe, you have to squeeze everything, and some women *cough* get nearly suffocated by their boobs. Nevertheless, there are many benefits to this position, and inversions in general: they’re good for the brain, and can help relieve stress and depression. In particular, shoulderstand can help stimulate the thyroid, and since my thyroid went kaput about ten years ago, I tried to learn to love this pose. I also just love being upside down, and this is a nice inversion for days when I’m too tired to go into handstand or headstand.

I’m not there yet, but Yoga Journal’s video helped. I love practicing at home… with carpet! Hope you enjoy…

During the summer, I find myself traipsing to and from vacations, weekend getaways, the occasional bender… not that I’m complaining! And, in the summer, my body confronts various maladies that don’t seem to affect it during the rest of the year: poison oak, sunburns, mosquito bites. They have kept me out of the studio for whole weeks! It feels like I take three giant steps backwards by the time I get back to the studio, even if I’ve only missed a few days. But, I don’t think saying no to adventure is the answer! It’s just that, even away from my Yoga Belly home, I need to take the time to stretch. To relax. To breathe.

In this spirit, I hope you all…

Am I the only one who didn’t know the big difference between these two poses? I thought they were basically the same, with slightly different arms and thighs… how wrong I was. This video really helps clear things up. If you’ve got four-and-a-half minutes, give it a looksie!

Via Yogagarden