Thanking my teachers

I started my first day of yoga teacher training today. Leading up to it, I've been thinking about how lineage is important in yoga and how you thank your teachers and the teachers before them for bringing you this practice.

And so I have been thinking about my teachers.

Mel is my ashtanga teacher and I have been studying with her for nearly two years. Someone asked me today what it is about her, why I gush when talking about working with her. I think it's because I trust her implicitly. Her confidence and calmness in the practice rubs off on me and if she thinks I can do something, I start to believe I can. She's patient, and just the right amount of push. 

I can say, hand on heart, that I wouldn't be where I am today without her as my teacher. I don't think I would have even considered yoga teacher training an option or an idea.

There's also Ruth, who covers for Mel when she is off in Greece or Goa, and who is totally different and who pushes and cajoles in a totally different way. I like having the dichotomy of the two of them.

There's Robert, whose class I took at the gym down the street from us on Isabella in Toronto. There's Miss Irene, Miss Karen and Miss Judy, my dance teachers from long ago, who taught me about movement and discipline and trained my body in a way that I couldn't really comprehend then but understand so much better now.

And the countless teachers who I've had for a class or a week or a month who have made an impact on me. Even those who didn't, or whose class I didn't enjoy. All those moments with people who stood up to teach me something. Whether I learnt it or not.

I guess what I'm saying is thank you.