The Afterglow of Peter Sanson’s Workshop
What a weekend we had with Peter Sanson a couple of weeks ago. We’re still buzzing and feeling inspired as I’m sure most of you who attended the workshop are too. We’ve let him know just how important it is that he comes back next year.
Peter always comes with a very simple, yet very powerful message for all of us yoga practitioners.
I have to admit that I was actually approaching the weekend with some trepidation and I’d actually decided that I wasn’t going to practice in the class.
I’ve had a tough couple of years. I’m not looking for sympathy and I haven’t had it as bad as some (I’m not a refugee and I haven’t got a terminal illness) but it hasn’t been a walk in the park either.
We lost so many old students over the pandemic, we lost around 60% of our income, I lost my Father to motor neurone disease, and I even lost my way a little bit with yoga practice. I’ve been suffering a fair amount of physical pain (no doubt exacerbated by the stress of the last few years) and I found it became harder and harder to dedicate myself day after day to yoga practice without becoming disheartened.
When Peter arrived to stay in our apartment the evening before the workshop I told him that I wouldn’t be attending the workshop. I had too much pain and, if I’m honest, I didn’t want our students to see how my practice had suffered because of it.
He told me that almost all of the teachers he’s spoken to over the last few months have had similar problems. Lack of motivation, lack of inspiration to practice and a feeling of regret and even embarrassment that they, of all people, the very ones who are supposed to inspire others to practice, had lost their way (in one way or another) with their own yoga practice. Teaching in a mostly-empty shala takes a huge toll on your confidence.
When I think about it now, it makes sense that, as a group, yoga teachers (who were hit so hard by the pandemic, financially and otherwise) would crack under the pressure. So many shalas operate on a tiny budget, just about making ends meet each month so that they can continue to teach. Our shalas are not just for practice either; they’re social hubs where people meet and get to know each other, and we, the teachers, are no different. Whether or not we realised it before, we relied, in part on our shalas for social interaction. When they closed and all we got to see were muted students in a small box on zoom we missed so much of what was fulfilling about teaching yoga. So many students drifted away. We build close relationships with many of our students and when they disappear it can leave a hole.
Peter knows me by now, I’ve been attending his workshops since 2008. He didn’t encourage me to come along. He just left it at that.
The next morning.
4:30 am.
My apartment is full of life.
Peter’s up, Suzanne’s up. The dog’s up. The coffee is brewing.
What am I going to do? Stay in bed? There’s no way I’m missing out on this! So up I get, into the shala we go (the dog comes too!), I stand on my mat and I practice just the standing postures. I have the good excuse that I have to leave early to go and pick up my daughters from my Mam’s house and bring them to school.
There’s no judgement from Peter. No encouragement either. He just lets me practice and leaves it at that. He knows what it’s like to cut one’s practice right back. In fact, I’ve practised beside him in Mysore on occasion over the years and sometimes he has had to strip his own practice right back to the very basics. He told us once that anybody who practises for long enough will eventually have to go back to the beginning and start again. It’s part of the process for almost all of us.
I had a wonderful weekend of gentle practice and of spending time with Peter and all the students. What a privilege it was to be able to facilitate and participate in the workshop.
The most important thing we all learned from him? The same thing I learn every time I practise with him
“What your version of a yoga posture looks like to someone else is irrelevant. The only ‘alignment’ I’m interested in is whether you can align your breath with your movement”.
I’ve been hearing the same talk for fourteen years now. Same talk, every single time.
How easy it is to forget it.