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.
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Long-awaited
I've been looking forward to the second weekend of training like a captain to her ship. When I'm not doing AcroYoga, I'm thinking about AcroYoga. This month's place of ambition is the circus workshop of Amsterdam. Here we are going to focus on the more acrobatic side of Partner Yoga:AcroYoga. When I walk into the hall, my Acro heart beats faster. The floor is one big mat and long cloths hang from the ceiling to the floor, where I imagine little snake girls taking impossible poses in them. We stick to balancing on each other's hands and feet, but the tone is set.
'Not an ugly cry!'
Sitting in a circle, knee to knee, cross-legged, we are asked how the exercises have been going for us over the past month. Oops, a group chat. I am quite emotionally incontinent at the moment. While I listen with one ear to the stories of my fellow students, I simultaneously plunder my head in search of an acceptable answer. ‘Johanna?’ The familiar signs of a swelling cry are now abundantly present:glowing head, sweaty mustache, thick throat. Before I know it, I'm breaking out. Ugh…
AcroYogaing Men
During an AcroYoga weekend in Limburg last week, I came into contact with acroyoga men. They literally turned my life upside down. Men are naturally stronger, overestimate their strength rather than let a woman out, and have large feet that fit my hip and buttocks as if hip and foot were a joint in themselves. For the first time in my life I didn't feel like Disney hippo in tutu. An additional awkwardness was that I instantly fell in love with any man who balanced me on his feet more than once. That was reinforced when my boyfriend didn't immediately want to exchange his passion for gaming for acrobatic yoga when I got home. I was inconsolable.
Out of the comfort zone
A public cry, however uncomfortable, does clear a way. For the rest of the weekend, I seem like a living invitation to anyone who wants to step out of their comfort zone. I was a bit hesitant at the beginning, but towards the end of the weekend I turned up to see who wants me. As a result, I make several emergency landings, my abs sour with laughter and my body begins to understand better and better how it makes itself compact and light. Lightness in acrobatics has nothing to do with weight, but with muscle tension and body awareness.
Slightly more Yang
The theme of the yoga weekend is the balance between Yin and Yang, concepts I only know from the cheapest pendant at the jeweler. I learn that Yin stands for feminine aspects such as life energy and continuous movement. And Yang for masculine qualities such as silence, presence and observation. That energy is fine, but observing it in peace is still a point of attention for me. Especially in moments of confusion. I give myself that rest. And go ahead, my friend too.
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