5am

Its very different waking before the sun to teach rather than practice. That early, I'm thinking only about myself and my own silly little needs. I think of how uncomfortable I am and how, well, everything makes me feel fragile when compared to being tucked into my cozy loft bed until sleeping has exhausted me. This has been the new routine. Wake up, teach, sleep, practice, eat. with slight variations. This week has been teach, teach, teach. Some days and even weeks are like that.

Sipping my tea I watched my favorite student practice. He's older, and slimy from sweat. He's very stiff and hasn't quite figured out how to finesse the ujjayi, but he is amazing. He comes in every day and does his practice. He tries so hard, despite his physical limitations. He shows up and he tries. Whenever I see him practice, it makes me smile.

After the morning class, I get back on the train to head home to sleep. I look around at all the grumpy little New Yorkers yawning, sleeping, a whole riff-raff of dirty coats and work boots that always take up two seats. I am wedged between two oversized jackets and I manage to swallow down the panic just long enough to notice that the guy next to me is breathing. I can see his coat slowly rising and falling and I notice that without knowing it or attempting to do so, I have matched his breathing pattern with my own. This completely throws me off, of course, and so I purposefully change my breathing pattern and continue reading my library book.