Teaching moments

Teaching moments

A while back, I was sitting in the San Jose airport in Costa Rica, waiting for the van that was supposed to take me to a yoga retreat a couple hours away. The van was very, very late, and a woman about my age introduced herself as a sister yogini (let’s call her 3G), and we started chatting. I was tempted to complain as the hours ticked by, but my companion stopped me cold by musing, “I wonder what it is that I need to learn from waiting?”

So the other day when I walking in the park sweating inside my mask, I asked myself 3G’s question: What is it I can learn from this fucking mask? And there are a few things:

First, I now know how enraging it must be to women wearing burqas to be asked, Isn’t that thing hot? And I know the answer too: It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.

Second, why am I still peering into magnifying mirrors to scissor off my chin whiskers? No one can see me behind the white curtain that covers my face and stifles my breath.

Third, I am so lucky to have this stupid mask, which I made myself on my own sewing machine in my comfortable apartment next to one of New York City’s loveliest parks. I wish I could fully savor that luck, but it comes with a side of guilt.

My next 3G question: What do I need to learn from all this guilt?

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