The Power of Humility

Small studio and rural teachers are the lifeblood and the true heart of American yoga.  They are unsung.  They are humble.  Their classes are small.  Their students are not glamorous.  Yet on a weekly basis, they profoundly touch the souls of so many fortunate yogins who are guided by their devotion and humility.

I'm here in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho with Karen Sprute Francovich, who owns Garden Street Yoga.  She is one of those teachers who is like a giant beating heart for her community.  We've been friends for years but I've never taken her class, and I had that good fortune last night.  Never heard of her?  That's because she has a rare quality that is in short supply these days - humility.  She's rarely on Facebook, there aren't even any photos of her on her website, she lists herself at the end of her roster of teachers, she dresses with loveliness and modesty.  She has a beautiful quality of containment that does not veer into any apparent sense of unworthiness.

She is a power, the power of dedicated study and a lifetime's devotion to a path of evolution.  

Karen started her class with a big smile on her face, and a brief exposition of the Tantric viewpoint that we are all made of condensed light.  She described the light in its innate free state like a vast blanket made of light, also known as bliss, and said that we are like crimps or bumps in the blanket that become condensed into being.  She told us that class would be about feeling the places in our bodies that were especially condensed, and to see if we could allow them to soften, so that the bliss there could be released and felt.

Karen's class moved slowly, but deeply.  Slow deep burn.  Slow deep guidance, completely held by her words and presence.  "Anything will melt if you give it enough attention and love," she said.  When we were in a deep hip opening pose, she said, "Feel the edge with compassion, and see if you can melt some of the condensed bliss in there."  At one point, we were in a deep pose, and she gave the option to go deeper.  "But if you go deeper, can you still melt?  Know yourself."  Then she paused a long time.  "And know whether you should go deeper."  "Know yourself" is a profound suggestion in a yoga class, and we were given the time and space to practice it.  She gave us long stretches of silence.  She demonstrated a complex arm balance (Astavakrasana) and said, "Isn't this what your life feels like sometimes?  Too many things going in all directions?"

Her teaching is about leading her students to themselves, not about convincing them of something that she thinks is true.  And that takes the mature restraint to abstain from constantly putting your own agenda forward.

Mountains of gratitude to Karen and all the teachers like her, who make the sacrifice to stay with their communities through all their growth pains, contractions, and expansions.  Their generous lives uplift the consciousness of our world yoga community.