My alarm buzzed at 5.40 AM. I stumbled out of bed, grabbed my phone and ended the alarm. I splashed water in my face, moaned, changed clothes, moaned and drank a glass of water. Lately I am not doing the Neti-Pot thing anymore. For a few weeks it didn't go well because of my hay fever and my nose was blocked, but now I think I am over the hay fever again for this year, my nose is open again and I should go back doing it. It feels fresh, especially in the morning when I am just out of bed.
I took my bike and rode to the studio. I usually am in the second (and last) line of people, but it was already crowded in the shala, so me and my mat had to go to the front (and first) line. It felt special. We yogi's are not supposed to have an 'own place' in the shala, but we people our people who like patterns and habits and customs, so I've noticed most people like to practice at the same spot every morning. Me too, although I have two spots: the left or the right corner of the last line. Now I was in the first line. I thought I could really concentrate now because there was nobody in front of me. But then, when I was in my first downward dog, I saw the man behind me. He only wore shorts, he had a well trained body and his arms were tattooed with words I could not read. I tried not to peek too much, but that was difficult. I watched him whenever I could. His body was fit, his practice was strong and flexible. I thought he could be an Ashtanga model.
Then I heard Harmony in the back of my mind saying: Yoga is not about how the asanas look. It is not about stretching your leg as far as possible. It is not about getting a perfect body (although she too admitted this is a nice side effect). It really is about what is happening (and transforming) on the inside.
I took this picture in Miami, U.S.A.