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Free - 50 Yoga class and workshop ideas 
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Student Health Questionnaire template & Risk assessment template 
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Recommended reading 

  • ​The Heart of Yoga by Desikachar

  • Yoga Mind, Body and Spirit by Donna Farhi

  • ​Bringing yoga to life by Donna Farhi

  • Roots of Yoga, by Mark Singleton and James Mallinson 

  • Yoga FAQ by Richard Rosen

  • The Breathing book by Donna Farhi

  • Teaching Yoga by Donna Farhi

  • Yoga biomechanics by Jules Mitchell

  • Yoga Sequencing, by Mark Stephens

  • ​The Body Keeps the Score, by Bessel Van der Kolk

  • The Truth of Yoga by Daniel Simpson

  • When the body says no by Gabor Maté

  • Bhagavad Gita 

  • Yoga Sutras of Patanjali ( Translation & commentary by Sri Swami Satchidananda)

  • The Upanishads (introduced and translated by Eknath Easwaran)

  • Hatha Yoga Pradipika, by Swami Muktibodhananda

My favourite Savasana poems

Wild Geese - Mary Oliver 

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

The Summer Day - Mary Oliver 

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean—

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass,

how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed,

how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

Walk slowly - Danna Faulds 

It only takes a reminder to breathe,

a moment to be still, and just like that,

something in me settles, softens, makes

space for imperfection. The harsh voice

of judgment drops to a whisper and I

remember again that life isn’t a relay

race; that we will all cross the finish

line; that waking up to life is what we

were born for. As many times as I forget,

catch myself charging forward

without even knowing where I’m going,

that many times I can make the choice

to stop, to breathe, and be, and walk

slowly into the mystery

Let it go - Danna Faulds 

Let go of the ways you thought life
would unfold: the holding of plans
or dreams or expectations – Let it
all go. Save your strength to swim
with the tide. The choice to fight
what is here before you now will 
only result in struggle, fear, and 
desperate attempts to flee from
the very energy you long for. Let go.

 Let it all go and flow with the grace 
that washes through your days whether
you receive it gently or with all your
quills raised to defend against invaders.

 Take this on faith: the mind may never 
find the explanations that it seeks, but
you will move forward nonetheless.
Let go, and the wave’s crest will carry
you to unknown shores, beyond your
wildest dreams or destinations. Let it
all go and find the place of rest and
peace, and certain transformation.

The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry

 When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For the time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

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