In search of the perfect teacher
I was 30 when I went to my first yoga class in Hampstead, on the advice of my GP. I wanted to come off the tranquillisers she had prescribed to help me cope with the ending of a long-term relationship. The class was taught by a calm young woman with a musical voice, which I can still hear whenever I practise the relaxation exercise she taught us. I continued to go for a year, long after I had stopped taking the tranquillisers.
But when she was replaced, I stopped going. Her successor taught exactly the same exercises but neither radiated nor induced the serenity that I had come to associate with yoga. Several years later I tried two more classes in London, but neither of the teachers seemed to be particularly inspiring, and eventually I gave up.
Years later, in Paris, I tried yoga again. I was mortified to find the same postures much more difficult. I was out of practice and it took many more attempts, with different teachers, for me to clearly identify what I was looking for: the perfect teacher, rather than the perfect method, class size or location. I wanted exercises that induced a sense of physical, mental and spiritual well-being, which I could practise on my own, and a teacher who embodied the harmony that I felt was the underlying philosophy of yoga.
But very few yoga teachers seemed to me to be teachers at all, let alone spiritually advanced. Most were instructors, struggling to orchestrate large classes of mixed ages and abilities. I found some of the postures ridiculous and painful, and the "eastern" touches laughable: the sudden outbursts of chanting in Sanskrit, candles, music, statues of the Buddha - you name it.
I concluded that I hated yoga. The feeling of physical ineptitude was humiliating enough, but even more frustrating was the sense that there was something worth grasping, and that it was eluding me.
All the teachers I spoke to agreed that the teacher was more important than the method. One, to her credit, advised me to keep trying as many classes as it took until I found a teacher who was right for me. Then I came across a leaflet for a yoga class. "Calming, relaxing with stretching, breathwork and meditation," it said. That was more or less what I was looking for, even though it was on the other side of Paris, so I decided to give it one more try.
This teacher was Californian and took a maximum of three people in a group. I was lucky - the other two had cancelled so I ended up having a private lesson. She began by asking me to read a handout on breathing before we started. It was the first time I had been given a reason for breathing through my nose during yoga (slows everything down, including the mind) and I immediately felt some of my resistance melting.
The exercises we did were unlike anything I had done before. She explained that the aim was to adapt the yoga to the person, not the other way around, and kept placing strategic cushions under me and limiting the movements to what I could accomplish comfortably. But the biggest difference was the focus on synchronising my breathing with the physical and meditation exercises. It was extraordinarily difficult - not physically, but mentally - and reminded me of my first driving lessons. "That's it," she would murmur encouragingly and my body responded, so that the tones of her voice became part of the movement and the breathing. I was internalising her voice in the same way as I had done with my first teacher.
At the end of the lesson she gave me handouts and a brochure. At last I had a clear rationale for the exercises I had been doing sporadically over 25 years, and it was as if someone had shone a torch into a darkened room.
Since that lesson, I have practised the slowed-down breathing she taught me every night. A lifelong insomniac, I am glad to have found a relaxation technique that works. And a yoga teacher who is right for me.
Annabel Simms is the author of 'An Hour From Paris' (Pallas Athene, ￡12.95)
练瑜珈的关键在教练！
我
听从社区保健医生(GP)的建议，第一次上瑜伽课是在汉普斯特(Hampstead)，那年我30岁。我想摆脱她给我开的镇定剂，那是用来帮我应付一次多年恋情失败后的打击的。上瑜伽课的是一位沉静的年轻女性，有着音乐般的嗓音，每当我做她教给我们的放松练习时，都好像仍然能听到她那种声音。我连续上了一年的课，那时我早就停止服用镇定剂了。
不过，她被换掉之后，我就不去了。接替她的人教的动作完全一样，但既不能发散、也不能诱导出那份沉静，我已经将那种沉静与瑜伽联系在一起。几年之后，我又试着在伦敦上了两个瑜伽班，但教练似乎都不是特别有感召力，最后我还是放弃了。
又过了几年，我在巴黎再次试着练习瑜伽。我苦恼地发现，同样的动作这时候练起来要难得多了。我的动作已经荒疏，要付出更多的努力，经历不同的教练，才能确定我想要的东西：一位完美的教练，而非完美的方法、授课规模或地点。我想要的是能够激发身体、心理和精神愉悦感的瑜伽，这种瑜伽我可以自己练习，同时还需要一位具有和谐气质的教练，我认为这是瑜伽哲学的根本所在。
然而，在我看来，只有极少数瑜伽教练可以称其为教练，更别提那种精神境界高远的教练了。多数教练都是说教者，费力地指挥着一大群年龄不同、能力各异的学员。我发现，一些姿势很荒谬，而且让人觉得痛苦，而那种“东方”格调也十分可笑：突然冒出的梵语歌曲、蜡烛、音乐、佛像――反正你想的到的都有。
我由此得出了自己憎恨瑜伽的结论。感觉自己的身体条件差已足以让人感到羞辱，而更令人沮丧的是，你感觉有些东西值得去掌握，却掌握不了。
和我交谈过的教练都认为，瑜伽教练比练习方法更为重要。值得赞许的是，一位教练曾建议我，不管课程有多长，坚持练下去，直到找到一位适合我的教练为止。后来，我在一次瑜伽课上看到了一份宣传材料，上面写着：“静心，伸展放松，呼吸，冥想。”这或多或少像是我在寻找的东西，因此我决定再试一次――尽管这个瑜伽馆开在巴黎的另一端。
这位瑜伽教练来自加州，每班最多接收3位学员。我很幸运――另两位都取消了课程，因此最后这成了我的私人课程。开课前，她先让我阅读了一份关于呼吸法的材料。这是我练瑜伽以来，第一次明白了用鼻子呼吸的原因（让一切都慢下来，包括心灵），我立刻感到，自己对瑜伽的一些抵触在渐渐消融。
我们进行的训练不同于以往任何课程。她解释说，练瑜伽的目的，是让瑜伽去适应身体，而不是让身体去适应瑜伽，她不断让我减轻压力，把动作限制在我能轻松完成的范围以内。不过，最大的不同之处，是把重点放在使呼吸与身体训练和冥想训练同步进行上。这难度极大――并非身体上，而是精神上的难度――让我想起了自己第一次驾驶课。“就这样，”她会轻声鼓励我，而我的身体会随之做出反应，这样她的语调成为了动作和呼吸的一部分。像对第一位教练那样，我将她的声音深深印在了心底。
课程结束时，她给了我一些宣传资料和一本小册子。我终于明白了25年来我断断续续进行的瑜伽练习的基本原理，这就好像有人在黑暗中燃起了一把火炬。
自那堂课以后，我每天晚上都练习她教给我的放慢呼吸法。作为一个长期失眠的人，我高兴地发现了一种有效的放松方法。同时，我也发现了一位适合自己的瑜伽教练。
安娜贝尔?西姆斯是《An Hour From Paris》（Pallas Athene出版社出版，售价12.95英镑）的作者。
