We were waiting at the foyer as with all days. When he came to our area to check on who would come in next, he asked someone behind me what her assigned time was. 10.30.
Too early. Come back at 10.30.
I inhaled quietly. That was my time, too. He looked me straight in the eye. You. What time? I mouthed 10.30
You come 10.15.
And that is the way it is. It may change tomorrow. I do not know. The teacher has his reasons without having to explain. In a world where almost everyone runs around wanting to know more, learn fast, rise above, there are those who were given the difficult task to tame, to teach, to lead. In this world filled with opinions easily broadcasted to hundreds of "friends" and "followers," those who dare teach need so much more compassion/ conviction/courage (and charisma, maybe?) Which is why I have such deep trust and respect for teachers.
While we may humbly ask questions, we are also setting some aside, entrusting ourselves. We come as students, not as customers. Of course, the first step is to be chosen (on both sides with intelligence). The teacher and student find each other. Such is love.
During practice, he came to me after three Urdvha Danurasana on the floor. He stood right in front of me as I did another three drop backs and came up. He then brought me deeper. I was grateful for his attention at that moment and for his presence throughout (from 4am to 12pm, and a 1 am practice).
In the afternoon, T, S and I went to Anu's, anticipating the full moon with fully lined eyes. We had dinner at Casino Park and were ready for the full moon party that never happened for us. We went home to sleep instead. And that was absolutely fine.
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