Johanna Nolet is a freelance journalist and columnist and has registered for the very first Partner Yoga teacher training course in the Netherlands. With the few yoga classes she's taken over the years, she doesn't even want to call herself an "advanced." Every month she takes us along in a column about her experiences.
Read Johanna's previous blog>>
First weekend
I'm nervous. I wonder if I'll be able to keep up with it all. Whether I'm wearing the right clothes and whether I won't sweat too much. I haven't done my homework. I worry about that now. It's the first weekend of the Teacher Training Partner Yoga and I'm already behind the rest because I'm not a certified yoga teacher.
The intention is there
In the weeks leading up to the training I tried to prepare in different ways:I followed an AcroYoga course, of which I unfortunately had to miss the last four lessons due to a move and two wisdom teeth extracted; When I put my things in boxes, I put the AcroYoga manual at the top for easy access. That has remained a good thought; And I tried to lose a few kilos 'just for a while', which of course had a major counterproductive effect.
Good start…
When I enter the room with my yoga pants up to my armpits, the metabolic detox of one of the participants is the subject of discussion. I want to turn around right away. It feels too recently that I shouted the happiness of my new low-carb life from the rooftops. Meanwhile, the cookies just crept back in. I give the victim in me two minutes to unjustifiably hate every food-conscious woman on earth. So I descend a little further in my esteem.
Trust
Luckily, we're off to a good start. We start building trust and getting used to each other's touches. Indispensable at AcroYoga, since we constantly carry each other on stomach, buttocks, legs, back, shoulders, hands and feet. The very first exercise - in which one person is stroked and massaged with his eyes closed by two others - has exactly that effect:trust. The fear that people think I'm too fat and overweight makes me extremely focused on appearance. 'As long as I'm not the fattest. Yes, I am clearly the fattest. Everyone is petite and well-trained, what a bunch of control freaks, do they call that 'life'?' When I open my eyes, I'm grinning from ear to ear and my arms are flapping slightly hysterically across the room to hug everyone.
Forbidden question
Over the weekend it becomes clear to me that I am consistently skipping an important step. At the smallest exercise, teachers invite Dieke and Ellie to respect personal boundaries. "Feel with yourself and with the other whether there is resistance, check what your body needs and anticipate this." Those boundaries scream my ears, but listen? Come on. Because of the constant repetition, I learn that my stiff groin offers much more space when I don't have to spread as widely as the rest. And that after years of swimming and surfing my shoulders are super strong, but not so flexible. That this is not necessarily negative. I teach myself to ask a question, a hitherto forbidden question:'Johanna, can it be a little less?'
Also read Johanna's previous column:A one-way ticket to childhood please. Want to read more from Johanna? Go to:www.johannanolet.nl
