Monday, March 30, 2009

Monday 30th March 09 – Byron Bay.

Oh how the rain poured in buckets and shovels, and how the mean sea wind whipped thru the streets of Byron, turning the rain from heavy cumbersome drops, into bullets that could blind you if you happened to be cycling the wrong way.
But still, she taught on.
RAT A TAT TAT on the roof top like machine guns, and SWOOOSH as the cars dove headfirst into the gulleys of water collected in the road, sending fans of cascading water into the air.
But still she taught on.

I woke at 6am this morn to sound of the sky falling in. Over night god had forgotten to pull the bath plug, and the grimy bath water of the almighty overflowed on Byron bay. And it didn’t stop.
This is when you realise how much time you actually spend outside and with no shoes on. When you find yourself gazing out of the window thinking “how badly do I really need to pee/ get a drink/ food/go to class” etc.
“Morning!” I shrieked as I scuttled past my blonde bedraggled surfer mate this morn whilst trying to dodge the frolicking frogs and incredibly slippery patches of the boardwalk, and trying to get the studio both in one piece, and as dry as possible.
I threw myself thru the door into the sudden serenity that awaited. After wringing out my hair and vest, I squelched over the cd player. Someone had left a cd in there which made me smile, as this always lightens my mood at 6am in the morn to have a few Tibetan monks chanting at you while you cajole the tired, stiff body back to life. I lit the candles on the altar and a few incense sticks to get my yogic juices flowing.
I rolled out my mat and as I stood there with my eyes closed waiting for track 1 to click into action, I felt a pang of sadness. I suddenly realised how much I love it here. I will truly miss my early mornings of dodging frogs and other beasties on my way to the studio, swatting mosquitoes while trying to meditate, finding someone has stolen my yoghurts at breakfast time, watching the sun rise on the beach while giggling with Becky about “that dude that farted in my class yesterday”.
The worst part is that this place will always be here but my fellow trainees that are now firm friends and my surrogate family, will not.
At 3pm I climbed on my soggy saddled bicycle and peddled into town looking like I had just escaped from a wet t-shirt competition in seconds. I arrived at our second studio and rushed to the bathroom to get changed before any one of my prospective students could catch a glimpse of me in my unbelievably see thru attire. Dry and changed I set up my mat in front of the 15 pairs of eyes, smiled sweetly and told everyone to “lie back, relax and come to focus on the breath” a yogic time filler that works a treat. I toddled off to the front door just as Ethan and Sarah, the two other poor souls who were to be judged and have their teaching future determined with me, arrived. We all grinned nervously at each other and wished each other the best of luck as Sarah strode in and began the class. Ethan taught the second part and I was left to bring up the rear with part 3. The cool down.
I felt confident and launched into my lesson plan with my sugary sweet English accent that everyone seems to love here. As the rain got heavier I was forced to put on my best ‘ordering a drink in a crowded bar’ voice, that I have been practicing and perfecting for many years. After my 25 mins were up I lay my freshly stretched students back into savasana, the resting part of the class, and grinned from ear to ear as Ethan silently high fived me. We had done it. Our final assessment, the build up of the whole 7 weeks was over.
And to cut a long story slightly shorter, I passed. We all passed.
Which is why I sit here in my cabin, pleased as punch and with a belly full of liquorice, my number 1 treat of choice, listening to the water pouring out side and wandering why god doesn’t have an overflow.

1 comment:

  1. Well done Salpant, knew you could do it!!