Is it just me or do Yoga Teachers Talk Bull$H*T!? - Nicole Payseur

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You are ready to start yoga class. You sit tall. You quiet your face. You soften the space between your eyes. You listen. You wait. Your yoga teacher commences her dharma talk. At first it is interesting, but then, she pontificates on irrelevant topics and meanders about rambling. She refuses to shut her cake hole and just start class. You fidget. You scream inwardly as every joint hurts and your right leg tingles from lack of blood flow. Thoughts of amputation cross your mind. You open one eye and peep at the clock, those six minutes of a 60 minute class vanish like a yoga high during the commute home in rush hour traffic. I cannot to be that teacher. Toastmasters educated me: stand up to be seen, speak out to be heard and sit down to be appreciated. I shall speak profound and interesting and sage words but sometimes that inner critic yells, “Really? Really? How can one strive over obstacles? That is yoga babble, Nicole. It makes no sense.” Erudite is an adjective I’d love to earn. Pithy is a word I’d get tramp-stamped on my sacroiliac. Laconic ought to be my nickname. Yet growing up with an English teacher mom, acquiring a BA in Literature, completing the Radcliffe publishing course, writing for the New Orleans Tribune and learning the subtle art of vituperation in law school makes me a vulgar sesquipedalian. (sesquipedalian defined) One student’s eyes grew wide, when she overhead me upbraid a student who surreptitiously, cloaked her phone with a strap and pirated my class. The next day, when the yoga pirate failed to show, my faithful student quipped: You are definitely a great yoga teacher, but first you […]