Something's Shifted for Sure

Since I've switched from 6 am to 9:30 am Bikram three times a week, my body is happier but my mind keeps going into judgment about the vast difference in the quality of practice between the two times.

The 6 am group is steady, consistent, supremely focused, aware and respectful of the concept of yoga.

The 9:30 group is all over the place.  This morning a woman walked in nearly 20 minutes late and planted herself in the front row.  Then she proceeded to fidget through the remainder of the class.

At first, I was really, really angry.  What nerve!  It's bad enough to come in so inexcusably late, but then why not take an inconspicuous spot in the back row?  And since she was in the very front, why was it so important to keep adjusting her top, her bottom, her hair ...

About half-way into the 90-minute practice, my attention was drawn to the woman on her left who was also in my direct line of vision.  If I was angry, she was furious.  We caught each other's eye a time or two and signaled our mutual disgust.  It felt good to have a companion in this unfortunate experience and I felt myself relax a little.

 Then, at one point, I noticed the Fidgeting Late Woman checking out her toes.  She continued to check out her toes as though that was the most compelling, fascinating activity ever invented.  I couldn't help it, I started to laugh.  I mean really laugh.  The Teeth-Gritting Woman glanced at me and kept gritting.  I stopped laughing but it was too late:  the anger was completely gone.  And so was my connection to the Teeth-Gritting Woman; we had lost the bond created by our wounds because I wasn't wounded anymore. 

I love yoga.