A child of the sixties, I grew up running wild in a peace loving libertarian household, dressed in flared jeans and a browband, listening to Bob Dylan. It isn’t surprising I grew up to be a bit of a hippy.
I experienced a spell of adolescent depression. My father told me tenderly ‘just relax and be yourself.’ I remember thinking that was all very well, but I had no idea how to do it.
Maharishi Mahesh Yogi was the leader of the Transcendental Meditation movement at that time. Their headquarters, Mentmore Towers, was five miles from our family home in Bedfordshire. A friend joined the movement. We’d talk about Indian culture over tasty vegetarian suppers. I learned to meditate at Mentmore and was presented with my own mantra. It was a strange word I found awkward to pronounce.
The TM movement was interesting. Still - it wasn’t quite my time for Yoga and I let it go.
After leaving school I studied art and design. On my first day at college, I met my soulmate in the queue for a coffee. Granv is an atheist, passionate about science. I share his respect for science but, despite my best efforts, I’ve never quite managed to become an atheist.
During this time I had a motorcycle accident which damaged my knee and left me with a limp. Yoga had the consultant’s approval as a form of post-operative therapy. I bought a book of Iyengar sequences and began practicing asanas at home.
My leg strengthened. My limp all but disappeared. Still - it wasn’t quite my time for Yoga and I let it go.
After college, I took off with a rucksack to explore the world. I cherish images of Yoga from this time. A man in Virabhadrasana on the deck of a Portuguese fishing boat; figures in Urdhva Dhanurasana carved into the wall of an ancient Egyptian temple; myself, attempting a wobbly Shirshasana on a rickety balcony overlooking the rainforest in Costa Rica.
I travelled to India and stayed in an ashram in the foothills of the Himalaya. A small group of visitors practiced Yoga at dawn and dusk there, each day. I recall the breathtaking beauty of the Himalayan landscape. And the pilgrims from all over India, passing through on their way to the source of the Ganges. It was as if I’d been transported to a different planet, a poetic and mysterious otherworld.
After my travels, I returned home. That was India, this was England. It wasn’t quite my time for Yoga and I let it go.
I settled with Granv in Milton Keynes, and found work as a graphic designer.
The gym was loud and brash. My ears were still ringing when I got chatting with an Ashtanga practitioner, in Costa one morning. I told him I’d like to return to yoga practice and he recommended a DVD by David Swensen. I placed my order on Amazon the same day.
With the first play of the disc I took to Ashtanga. The more I practiced, the more I grew to love the feeling of a deep stretch. I began listening more sensitively and respectfully to my own body. It rewarded me with beautiful yoga echoes - little surges of subtle vitality, of prana, which surprised me, like a gift out of the blue.
More of a tortoise than a hare, I’ve continued to practice Ashtanga, in a quietly progressive way, with great pleasure, for the last three years. Asana practice works for me.
It wasn’t the influence of a friend that drew me deeper into Yoga. It wasn’t the need to recover from an injury. Or the inspirational beauty of India. Or the practicality of exercising at home with a yoga DVD. What drew me deeper into Yoga was a series of unfortunate events.
I became anxious and with anxiety came insomnia. I needed something to read in the middle of the night, to distract me as I lay awake, catastrophizing. I picked up a copy of the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali.
Studying the Sutras induced a feeling of deep calm. I was entranced. I returned to them every night as a sort of self-prescription for anxiety. That was it, I was hooked.
Insomnia was a blessing that introduced me to more beautiful Yoga books. BKS Iyengar’s ‘Light on Life’ is especially close to my heart. Studying Yoga philosophy works for me.
In the thrall of the Sutras, I began re-arranging my life to accommodate yoga practice. I found work at the Open University answering student enquiries. Shiftwork left me more time in the morning to practice. But I was uncomfortable in the corporate environment. When I was made redundant, I breathed a deep sigh of relief and promised myself I wouldn’t go back to that again.
It was a bit of a crazy long shot, still I applied to join the Whitespace Teacher Training Programme. I leapt with glee when I was accepted. Since then, it’s been my privilege to learn from inspirational teachers there - Deborah, Dawn, David, Sarah, Lizzie, Naz, Brigitte. I’m full of gratitude for their guidance, which is transforming my practice.
Alongside my coursework, Ashtanga classes, Yin classes, and self-practice, I’ve enjoyed the Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction course. I want to explore mindfulness further. Mindfulness meditation works for me.
I love solitude. My natural place has always been at the perimeter of any social circle, with one foot outside, ready
In my fifties, my feelings started to change. I hoped coming to Whitespace would help make a delicate shift, from a solitary practice to a shared one. It seems to be working. I love Whitespace classes and the warm-hearted people I meet there.
I practice amongst friends now, in my yoga space. We have a cheerful time. They tell me they enjoy Yoga, feel calmer, sleep better. Apparently my home - once a scene of anxious pacing - is now an ‘oasis of calm’.
The more I practice Yoga with others, the less anxious I feel in company - not just in the studio but everywhere.
This path is firm, soft and warm underfoot. There are beautiful views. Now’s my time for the discipline of Yoga. And practicing amongst friends works for me.
Three years have passed since I first wrote about the journey that led me to retrain midlife to be a yoga teacher. A seemingly calamitous redundancy turned out not to be an obstacle at all, but a detour in the right direction.
Teaching yoga has proved to be a special joy and a privilege.
There hasn't been a moment in the last three years ~ even at my most challenged ~ that I've regretted taking this beautiful, creative, engaging detour.
Name: Fran Keeley
Resident: Milton Keynes, UK
Role: Yoga Teacher and Learner
Family: Granv, Rubarb, Dunc, Jan, Kathy & the children
Friends: A small handful :-)
Influences: Methodism (early years), Barbara and Russell Keeley, Granville Callan, Angie Sharpe, Ted Summerfield, Freda Twyman, Patanjali, BKS Iyengar, David Swenson,
Jon Kabat-Zinn, Robyn Regula,
Judith Lasater, Donna Farhi, Peter Blackaby, Andy Stansfield and many more.