For some time now my mother, whom I adore and venerate, has been busting my balls to come up with some way of making extra money. "You should make a DVD or a book or some kind of gadget," she'll say. "This running around teaching isn't sustainable, you're gonna kill yourself. You need some kind of passive income generation." She typically finishes with the sine qua non of maternal ballbusting: "I just worry about you." Who could get annoyed with such well-meaning concern? Me, apparently. The bad son. "Sorry I let you down, Ma. Wish I coulda done (or been) better." There's the sine qua non of filial ballbusting and we're back to even.
In all seriousness, though, Mother's right, of course. I mean she may not be hip to the absurd proliferation of yoga-related books, DVD's, and gadgets and how glutted the market for said items is, but the teaching alone isn't quite cutting it for the life I envision for myself. To be clear, the life I envision for myself is almost exactly like the one I have now. I'm not trying to be Tom Vu, he of the yachts and the bikini-clad bimbos, or some other late-night infomercial huckster. I'm pretty unattached to material things. What bugs me is owing money. I want to pay off my student loans, my home loan, and have some set aside to educate any as of yet unborn children. It will take a long time to make that happen with things as they are now.
I have a seed planted now which hopefully at some point will bring in supplemental income while I do what I really love, i.e., practice and teach Ashtanga Yoga. Nestled in with the optimism is a seed of doubt. Goals can be Hydra-headed: to attain one can mean two more grow back. This can be good, it is good to keep moving. If it works out, though, I earnestly hope I don't become materialistic, graspy, a hungry ghost. I will tread lightly, and keep family and teaching at the center, always.