Pigeon Pose Will Humble You. Especially If You're a Certified Yoga Teacher

Pigeon Pose Will Humble You. Especially If You're a Certified Yoga Teacher

There's this moment that happens when a certified yoga teacher gets into pigeon pose in front of a class and just completely can't access it. Hip locked. Can't go there. And there's this awkward thing where everyone's watching to see what happens because that's what people do in classes, and the certified yoga teacher is standing there realizing they can't actually do the thing they've been teaching other people how to do.

The thing is, being a certified yoga teacher doesn't mean anything about your actual body. It doesn't mean your hips open easily. It doesn't mean pigeon pose will ever be accessible. A certification just means you took a training and passed the test and now you're supposedly qualified to teach people other things.

Except pigeon pose doesn't care about any of that.

The Body Holds Onto Things

There's probably years of tightness involved. Sitting too much. Or forcing things when younger and more aggressively flexible. Probably both. But it's there. And pigeon pose is basically the pose that refuses to let anyone ignore it.

There was this moment in a class where a certified yoga teacher just stopped pretending and was like, yeah, this isn't happening today. And one of the students said something like "oh good, I thought it was just me." And then everyone kind of relaxed. Because suddenly it became clear that being a certified yoga teacher doesn't mean the poses are easy. Doesn't mean they work the same way for everyone.

That matters somehow.

The Weird Contradiction

There's something about knowing exactly what you're doing but having your body refuse to cooperate. A certified yoga teacher knows the mechanics. Knows they're tight. Knows forcing it would be stupid. So they just sit there in this mediocre version of pigeon pose and feel frustrated.

Someone who'd been teaching for like fifteen years got into pigeon pose and just laughed. Said something like "my hips are apparently holding onto some grudges I forgot about." That's it exactly. The body holds stuff. Pigeon pose just happens to be the pose that makes anyone notice.

The Teaching Part Becomes Different

There's this shift that happens when a certified yoga teacher has actually experienced pigeon pose not working. Suddenly they're teaching it differently. They remember what it feels like when the pose is hard. When your hips won't open. When forcing it just makes everything worse.

David Swenson writes about this in Only Dead Fish Go With The Flow. How being a certified yoga teacher doesn't mean the learning stops. Doesn't mean the poses stop teaching. Doesn't mean anything has been figured out.

Pigeon pose keeps teaching. Probably teaches more to a certified yoga teacher than to a beginner sometimes, honestly. Because the expectations are different. The certified yoga teacher has to sit with the fact that certification doesn't equal mastery. Doesn't equal access. Doesn't mean the body cooperates with the credentials.

That's the real lesson maybe. Pigeon pose humbles everyone equally. A certified yoga teacher just has further to fall.

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