My teacher never lets me call him guru.
Sometimes I secretly wish he would because I love him so; because he appears to know more than is humanly possible to know and that awes me; and because I sometimes secretly long for an all-knowing, wise, guru-dude to give me the answers when I don't know them.
But no matter how I may try to insist, or inveigle my teacher to stand on that guru pedestal for me, he will not. When I call him teacher, he calls me bud. When I look to him for mandates, he gives me back my freedom.
And of course I love him all the more for it. The only teachers you should ever offer your sovereignty to are the ones who will never take it.
In the yoga traditions, gurus are a big deal. They are revered, and likened to the sun. Like the sun, a teacher's wisdom generously illumines the student. The student is as a moon--reflecting the light of knowledge that has been bestowed by the teacher.
Today is Guru Purnima, the guru's moon. Tonight, the full moon is at its brightest, thus most fully reflects the sun's brilliance. Today is a day marked for honoring teachers.
Parents. Various teachers. Friends. Lovers. You have been guru to me. Thank you.
As for my teacher? Almost everything good in my life today can be directly traced to his feet. Sound melodramatic? It's not. My passion, my profession, my friends, the direction I have chosen for my life--all results of a meeting ten years ago that, oddly, I just can't remember.
Today, for just this one day, I knowingly disregard my teacher's preference, lay it all at his feet, and call him guru.
Sri Gurubhyo Namaha.
Salutations to the gurus.