my yoga teacher training story

I have several friends who have just finished or just booked their yoga teacher training (YTT) programs, so this is a super important part of my story, and it’s also at the forefront of my mind right now. I did my YTT in May 2018 in Rishikesh, India, which is quite literally the birthplace of yoga. Rishikesh is a small town in northern India, in the foothills of the Himalayas. I had originally planned to go with a friend from university, but she ended up having a conflict. She actually picked the location, and it was love at first Google Image for me. I was scared to go by myself. I considered changing my plans, even though I knew I was starting grad school the same year, so this would probably be the last chance I’d get to do my training in India – but I was just so invested, and I couldn’t stand the idea of not experiencing this place. I remember telling everybody, “people do yoga on the beach looking at mountains.” Overwhelming, I know.

The weeks before my teacher training were some of the most conflicted I’ve had. I was excited, as always, to travel, but I was also scared shitless. The uniform response to “I’m going to India by myself for six weeks” was “wow, you’re really brave,” followed by, “is that safe?” (And for everyone’s information, yes, it was safe). So, tiny and twenty-two, I set off to Delhi, just me and my giant-ass backpack. After a traumatically disorganized experience at the Delhi airport and a major taxi mix-up, I stayed overnight at a hotel crawling with cockroaches. I barely slept that night (jetlag and indestructible bugs aren’t exactly conducive) and in the morning I called my boyfriend, holding back tears, telling him I had no idea why I would do something like this to myself. Pulling myself together, I took a taxi back to the airport for my domestic flight, and in the daylight, realized that I was surrounded by palm trees. Things really looked up from that point on.

Rishikesh felt like home right away. It took a few days to get used to the insanity that is Indian traffic and being stopped every few feet by Indians wanting selfies, but it was magic. I don’t know how to explain it except that it was difficult: we didn’t always have running water, our power went out every time it rained, we had the occasional giant cockroach from the neighbouring jungle in our room. We didn’t have any luxuries. It wasn’t perfect, but it was perfect for me. My new friends made fun of me for saying that every single day of that program was the best day of my life. I meant it every time.

I made incredible friends over the course of that month, lots of whom I’m still in touch with. My roommate was a hilarious 21-year-old Italian ex-makeup artist. She went on hysterically funny rants on a daily basis, with topics ranging from food and wine pairings to how much she wants to experience America to why kombucha tastes so bad. I learned that “hippie” is not a one-size-fits-all term, and my new friends were vegan, meat-eating, religious, atheist, spiritual, long-time yogis, non-yogis, artists, athletes, professionals, career travelers, unemployed, having a midlife crisis and just quit their jobs, Spanish, British, American, European, Australian, Indian, lost, searching, healing, moving on, moving forward. I guess the title we all had in common was traveler. Not everybody came to become a teacher. I wasn’t sure I did – I don’t like public speaking and I had only been practicing for about a year and a half at the time – but two days in I knew it was part of my path.

Every morning, we woke up for pranayama class at 5:30 am, where we practiced breathing techniques and meditation. A protein bar and a plastic cup of mint-flavoured, room-temperature instant coffee pulled me through on a daily basis. Our studio had large windows that overlooked the sun rising over the mountains on one side and the jungle on the other. Next up was breakfast: a grain similar to oatmeal plus some fruit and a breakfast curry. We washed all of our own dishes in a sink outside ("karma yoga," they said) and left them in the heat to dry. We had an hour off before our Teaching Methods class, where we learned about sequencing (how to plan a yoga class) and alignment and adjustment cues and techniques. Next was an hour and a half of Hatha, followed by lunch, another hour off, and then philosophy. Yoga Philosophy was the hardest, sleepiest hour of the day, and room-temperature chai tea is what got me through this one. I’ve never fallen asleep in a class before or since. Ashtanga followed, which was a wakeup call. My favourite class of the day, where we spent the whole 1.5 hours learning how to do one pose properly. The ashtanga teacher had tips and tricks as well as a whole lot of ways to use props for each pose. Then came anatomy, and then a recap class, and that brought us to 6:30 pm. 12+ hours of yoga teachings every day, and I’d never been happier. We had dinner – bland, westerner-friendly curry with chapati and rice – and then spent the nights to ourselves. We’d wander into the markets or go to the organic store down the street for a chocolate ball or hole up in our rooms with a book or a journal or go out for drinks – tea or lemonana, a lemon and mint slushy (the holy cities in India are dry: no meat, no alcohol, no eggs).

We did six days of this schedule, followed by a day off in which a trip was planned by our school. We went white-water rafting down the River Ganga, which Rishikesh is famous for. Indians don’t care much about safety, so we got our instructions and life jackets once we were already in the boat, headed for rapids. (And they were serious rapids – I’d expected a chill run down the river with some bumps along the way, and that is not what I got. I brought my phone along in a waterproof case, and I wanted to take a video in the thick of the rapids but I was too chicken to free up a hand for the camera). I thought I was going to die, but it was amazing. We got out and swam where the river was calm. We jumped off rocks and did backflips off the side of our boat. Another Sunday, we got up at 4:30 am to drive up into the Himalayas to see a temple. I don’t have words (or even photos) to do the Himalayas at sunrise justice. It was a truly unbelievable experience. On one of our nights off, we went to a ceremony at the edge of the Ganga where people were purchasing little floating “boats” made of leaves and filled with marigolds and rice and a candle. You light the candle (or more accurately, you get an Indian to light the candle for you because there’s a breeze and you’re hopeless) and then place your little boat in the river, letting it go and watching all the little lights float away.

I miss the monkeys every day. They were such a pain in the ass, and yet they added so much to my life in India. Monkeys broke into our studio one of the first mornings and trashed it. They were in the ceiling and they threw our stuff all over the place. From then on, we had to shut the windows whenever monkeys were around, which was about every other day. It was devastatingly hot in the studio when the windows were closed, and the fans stopped each of the ~24 times that the power went out per day. Monkeys would steal snacks from tourists and then sit on a ledge somewhere, eating their chips like a human. They would get up close and personal with us when we washed our dishes, hoping for some food scraps. We have squirrels and raccoons here; India's nuisances are monkeys. What a wonderful place.

And then there was the curry. Aloo gobi, chana masala. Butter naan. Indian food is just unreal. It’s not fair. We had our favourite spots – Shambala Café, Free Spirit Café, the Tatva Café above the organic store – and we visited often. We found a gem called Bistro Nirvana, just slightly outside of Rishikesh’s borders, that sold meat and beer. Score.

On one of my first days, I went exploring with some of my new friends. An incomplete google map led us astray (as they do in India) and once we reached the market, I got separated from my group because I stopped for a chai. I panicked. (It was fine. I found them like a minute later). By the end of the month, I felt like a local. I knew the important Hindi words (“too expensive”), I knew my way around, I had my favourite places, I went out by myself (and I knew how to dress in public based on whether I was alone or with a group and whether it was light or dark out), I knew how much things were supposed to cost in the markets, I could navigate the traffic (you just walk out into the road – people will stop), and I learned how to bargain. The timid girl who arrived in Rishikesh was not the same as the empowered woman who left. I think one of the most important things that I learned in my time there is that I can do hard things. Sometimes, you’re afraid of what will happen, and it turns out to be okay. Sometimes, it’s better than you could have ever imagined.

On one of our last mornings, we woke up extra early to walk down to a patch of beach by the Ganga for our morning meditation. I waded into the Ganga and breathed. They say the River Ganga is holy, and I think they must be right. Sitting down on the beach, I journaled while the sun rose over the mountains. I meditated. As beams of sunlight started breaking over the tops of mountains, we gathered together for the realest of sun salutations. I don’t know how to explain what happened that morning, but they were some of the most beautiful few hours I’ve ever had.

It may have been one ashtanga class that affected me more than anything else in YTT. We did a group activity that I know I won’t be able to put into words, but I feel like I have to attempt. One person closes their eyes, and everybody else leads them around the room, touching them, like the weirdest take on a trust fall of all time. Holding their hands, caressing their face, touching their arms and legs and heart. I knew I didn't understand what was happening before it was my turn to go, because it felt so strange and awkward but when each new participant opened their eyes, their face showed wonder or gratitude or overwhelm or awe or love or maybe a combination thereof. Six or seven turns in, I pushed my way in to go next, wanting to understand. I closed my eyes, and my teacher whispered a blessing to me, and then I started walking. I stepped blindly, but not carefully. I trusted these people, my new friends, not to let me fall; this was what I had assumed the point of the exercise was. But the important feeling came from elsewhere. It was the touches, the physical displays of caring and affection and love, that meant the most; it was incredibly cathartic. It’s not something your mind can grasp; you have to let your heart grasp it. After I participated, my heart took over and I put so much love and so much care into every embrace that I gave. And I really loved these people. Maybe the most beautiful thing was getting to watch those in special relationships – people who came with a significant other or a parent – touch their loved one. It’s strange, because the person doesn’t know it’s you, but you touch them with so much intention and love and grace in your eyes anyway. It’s a display of love that just is. It doesn’t expect anything in return: it’s unconditional.

Learning about yoga as a lifestyle as well as a physical practice has changed the way I think about everything. I really wanted that shift to happen in India. I was waiting to feel like my practice was becoming emotional and spiritual, and I didn’t get the overnight transformation that I was, maybe naively, expecting. But something about my practice opened up in India. It’s been a slow journey since, but I do feel like what I wanted is starting to happen – but what I didn’t realize is that yoga isn’t just causing changes within me. I’m physically stronger because of yoga. Yoga is becoming an outlet for my emotional and spiritual health and growth as well. But it’s also transforming my relationships and the way I live in and care abbout the world. Every time I learn something new, it opens me up to even more possibilities that I never imagined for my life. I have a feeling this practice is just getting started with me.

My YTT opened me up to so many ideas and new perspectives. What I want out of my life is different because of my teacher training. A friend shared with me that she’d received an invitation to teach yoga in Corsica. We had to google Corsica (and you should, too). But what really struck me was that she considered it because she didn’t have any plans for after she left India. Corsica sounds flippin' amazing, but I always have plans. I’d never be able to embrace such an opportunity with the way I was living, because I wasn't giving myself the freedom to be flexible. Flexibility requires a precarious balance of being responsible and letting go. If you let go, you can embrace opportunity, but it’s possible that if you don’t have anything planned, you might be stuck with nothing. But I decided that I’m more scared of the alternative: being bored and stuck with no way out. I’ve been really intentional about allowing for more flexibility in my life since that moment. (It’s funny, by the way, that in the context of yoga, everybody thinks about flexibility as stretching. My YTT made my body only marginally more flexible, but it has made my life drastically more flexible).

What I value and the thoughts that I’m willing to entertain have also changed; there is a new openness and acceptance in me. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes when we started learning about the chakras in our yogic philosophy class. But a friend told me that different cultures just have different ways of thinking about things; I don’t have to literally believe that there are spinning wheels of energy along your spine to understand that if your throat chakra is blocked – maybe you’re having a hard time communicating something to someone – that there are intentional practices that you can engage in with the goal of gaining the confidence to say what you need to say. I found that a lot of Hindu and yogic practices used language that was really hard to comprehend from a Western viewpoint, but if I broke it down and tried to apply it to my life, I could usually see where they were coming from. A lot of it has to do with intention, which is a whole separate topic for a future blog post. I gained insights into my practice, myself, and relating to all types of people, because I opened my mind to a more Eastern way of thinking.

My YTT is an experience I will always cherish. It’s my absolute favourite thing to talk about, so ask me questions literally any time. And if any of this sounds good to you or inspired you or you’d like to get more information, head over to my personal Instagram account and watch my India highlight reel. If you're thinking about booking a yoga retreat or a yoga teacher training program and you don't know where to start, I used www.bookyogaretreats.com. Their reviews are super helpful.

I hope that reading this sparked as much wanderlust in you as writing it did for me. Namaste.