The Humble Guru

“Straighten your arms. No, your elbows are bent. Straighten them.”

I blink rapidly as sweat drips directly into my eye. I’m standing in a 105-degree heated room with my arms over my head sideways and a pile of sweat pooling underneath me. I’m desperately trying to straighten my arms. This is only the first posture.

“No, no, that’s not right, your arms are still bending. Do you see that? Stretch up towards the ceiling! Straighten them!”

With all of my might, I reach my arms as high as I can, and pray a silent prayer that this lady will leave me alone. Satisfied, she turns her attention to another student, and I close my eyes in relief.

”Keep your eyes open!”

There is no hiding here.

I stare at Kay, my instructor. I think about how before class she looked like a sweet, beautiful grandma, in better shape than most 20-year-olds. Her eyes were so warm and gentle as she welcomed me into the hot yoga studio. How on earth did she transform into a drill sergeant?

Her voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I do my best to push through the rest of the 90-minute class. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into. After all, I had done Bikram yoga before, many years ago, but never with a teacher like Kay. Her attention to detail is on a whole other level. When the class finally ends, I stumble out of the studio, red-faced and looking like I just dove into a lake. I’m so dizzy, I have to sit down to put on my shoes. I struggle with the laces; my fingers too tired to even tie them correctly. I feel nauseous. I feel–

“You did amazing! Have you ever thought about becoming a Bikram teacher?”

I look up into that face, which is once again kind and open. Her eyes are shining.

“I—um, well—”

“You would be incredible! I can’t wait to work with you. Here, take my number.”

And that’s how I found myself training to teach Bikram with Kay, the most intense and caring yoga instructor I’ve ever known. The funny thing is, I wasn’t even going to be in town for half of the training, and I initially told her I wouldn’t be able to do it. No problem, she said. She told me we could work privately, (one-on-one) until I left for my trip. And then, once I got back, I could join in with the rest of the students. It was settled. I couldn’t believe this lady would want to work privately with me—for no additional pay—but then again, I could. That’s the thing about Kay. She’s so passionate about yoga that she actually wants to spend the limited hours of free time she has to do the training with me. This is a rare human, I thought to myself. And I was right.

We do a lot of the training at her house, and the first thing I noticed is how open it is. The smell of incense fills my nose. Peace flags, a yoga alter, and pictures of her guru’s grace her home, along with photos of her family and beloved cats. She makes me rose tea, and we talk about how we share a history of living in NYC and LA, as actors and artists. Unsurprisingly, I learn that Kay used to dance professionally as a ballerina. She then tells me about how she discovered yoga and her almost twenty years of studying with Bikram himself. I tell her my own similar story about discovering my own passion for yoga and reiki. After the training, she invites me to a documentary on ballet that night that’s part of a local film festival. I say yes, meet her hours later at the theater, and we share popcorn and coke. We watch the film and afterwards agree that there was too much talking and not enough ballet dancing, and then Kay offers to drive me home. The time we spend together is simple, genuine, and pure. Kay is the most knowledgeable, prestigious, and impressive yogi I’ve ever known, and yet she has absolutely no ego. She doesn’t hold herself up on some pedestal; she relates to you while simultaneously honoring her own beliefs and way of life. She is truly a humble guru.

The next day, after a particularly difficult class, I overheard the students chatting in the changing room.

“I mean, can you believe that we are lucky enough to have Kay? She’s an absolute master and yet she lives here in this tiny little town of Sedona.”

I couldn’t agree more. Somehow, I got the opportunity to not only learn from but also become friends with this amazing woman. And I am truly grateful.