Almost five years ago, I started taking yoga classes, and one of the first classes I enrolled in was an early morning class on Wednesdays taught by Pat Blum. I continued to go to the class, even as I completed teacher training and began to teach - with the added benefit that, as a teacher, I didn't have to pay to take the class. Over time, the relationships with Pat, her husband Charlie, and several other students that were in the class for years, became more important than the yoga poses. After class most weeks, we'd stop by Starbucks and spend some time socializing, sharing about work and family events.
This morning was the last class. Pat and Charlie are moving to Arizona, and the class won't be on the schedule for the summer. Perhaps fittingly, only the core group was at class today. The class itself was entirely normal, there was no reason for it not to be. We all accepted the reality of the transition, and seemed ready to move on. We gave Pat some parting gifts, went to Starbucks one last time, and arranged to get together for one last practice at Pat and Charlie's house in about a month, before they pack up and head west.
I'm glad that I continued to get up early on Wednesday morning and walk over to a 6:30 am yoga class, even when I was tired and, in superficial terms, had moved beyond the level of the class. It was the sense of community, the shared experience and interest in each other as people, that became the real reason to go.
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