My alarm clock buzzes early every Saturday morning. As Jason and our boston terrier Bodhi stay snuggled in bed I pull on my yoga pants and top I had set out the night before and try to sneak out of the house without awakening Stella, our three year old. This is my time and even in the cold I walk slowly to the yoga studio talking out loud to prep for class, happy there aren't many others out at 6:30am. The same homeless man asks me for a dollar every week when I stop into Starbucks for my pre-class coffee. I always say no and want to tell him if he'd just ask me outside of the store rather than when I'm actually at the counter ordering I might be more open to the solicitation. Instead I gently say no each and every week.
The heat of my first class feels so good and I'm thankful a room full of yogis have set their alarm to practice this morning. I've been teaching yoga for 10 years and opened my studio with my business partner and dear friend just about five years ago. The responsibilities of being a teacher and a local business owner often weigh heavy on me, but when I'm actually teaching everything seems to fit just right.
As my first class bundles up and heads back into the frigid D.C. winter I greet my second wave of students. Everyone is a bit more awake and we have a great time dissecting the poses and finding new openings in our practice.
Now time to find Jason and Stella and hope that everyone is in a good mood and ready for lunch together. Today the answer is yes. I returned to teaching two months after Stella was born. From the time she was 8 weeks to about 26 months old I felt like I was letting my family down every time I left them to teach. I still feel that way sometimes, but not today.