When I walked into the Homeless Services Center, I heard one guy holler, "You're the yoga instructor? Well, sign me up for yoga!" I laughed it off and walked over to the front desk lady, asking where the director was.
For all my concerns about teaching yoga at a homeless services place (which is a lot different than a homeless shelter), I didn't expect the director to come in, hands pressed against his head, going, "I completely messed up and told everyone that the class would start at 2."
In a way, that little mess up was exactly what I needed. I spent countless hours wondering if certain poses would trigger people, turn people off to yoga, make them give up half through... I worried about fights breaking out in the class and I worried about the mentally unstable snapping in the middle of class... But I had never worried about an administrative error.
The class itself was a lot calmer than I could've imagined. Aside from one man grumbling that he couldn't do a certain pose, the class went off without a hitch. The students fidgeted during savasana and were a little quick to sit up, but that's okay. That's expected for any level.
The best part of the class was overhearing one of the guys tell his friend that he appreciated being able to focus on one thing at a time instead of a million things at once. That's what I want; that's why I do what I do. If I can give even one other person the tools needed to sort out the bottlenecking thoughts, then all this training and fussing and applying for yoga teacher positions that won't come to fruition will be worth it.
So I might've spent the first half of the day quelling the urge to fret, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat. And I do get to do it again, as I'm officially on the roster as a yoga instructor there. So, yeah. Here's to new chapters, and all that jazz.