I Know Your Body But I Don't Know Your Name: A Yoga Teacher's Perspective on Bodies

While assisting one of my students in savasana the other day, I went to gently massage her ears (it's a thing, I promise!) and without even thinking about it or looking down at her ears, my hands moved around her cartilage piercing to avoid pulling on her earring.

In that moment I realized that despite not even knowing this student's name, I knew her body so well that I subconsciously knew what to avoid when touching her head. And this got me thinking about my regular students' bodies--and in particular, about my knowledge and awareness of my regular students' bodies. 

I know this might sound kind of creepy, but I swear that it's not. It's clinical.

As a yoga teacher, part of my job is to study and remember my students' bodies, and to touch their bodies while teaching them. When you look at someone's body 1-3 times per week for a few years in a row, and when you assist someone in the same poses time and time again, you start to know his or her body very well. 

For instance, I know where my regular students are injured (or have been injured in the past), and I know which arm she favors in chaturanga, which of his elbows bows out in down dog, which wrist she got surgery on, the location of the moles and freckles on their backs.

I know that he hates hip openers but does them anyway, and that she always does headstand at the end of class, whether or not I offer it. I know that he always struggles with balance, that she always goes too deep into extended side angle, that she likes an assist in half moon to help her lift out of her hip. 

I don't always know what my students do for a living, or in some cases, what his or her name is (ugh, I hate when I don't know names); I don't always know if he has kids or if she just moved here or what kind of life she has when she's not on her yoga mat, but I know her body, his tendencies, her scent, his intense facial expressions. 

When my students are on their mats, they speak a subtle physical language with their bodies. Their muscles tell me about their work stress and their relationships. Their skeletons tell me stories of past trauma. Their feet tell me about their journeys, their hands about what they create. 

While I may not actually know a student--may not have said more than a few words to her outside of class--I often feel like I know that student on a much deeper level than our our quick hellos and goodbyes would suggest. I may not know much about her, but I've been studying her body while she is on her yoga mat, week-in and week-out, and that has taught me something about who she is as a person. 

It's an honor to be a yoga teacher. It's an honor to be able to speak the language of the body with yogis. I have so much to learn (and always will), but my students and their bodies are my best teachers and they continue to teach me every day. 

To the bodies who come to my class: thank you for tutoring me in this physical language and helping me to become more fluent in it over the years. 

And if you're up for it, don't be afraid to tell me a little something about yourself the next time you're in class. I don't always ask because I like to give you your space and let you be anonymous (in case that's what you want), but I'd love to learn more about you--over + beyond what your body has to say (which is a lot!). 

PS. Thanks so much to everyone who completed my reader survey! Your feedback is super helpful. The winner of the giveaway is Lacey H.! Lacey, check your inbox for details on redeeming your $50 :)