And then there are the other teachers in my yoga class. The woman who comes in late and plops her dirty mat down next to mine. The woman who sighs and heaves through every pose (which is often a different one than the rest of us are doing.) The other woman who comes to class doused in Jean Nate' perfume.
I thought about whether I should try to learn something from these people. Tolerance. Acceptance. Whatever. They should respect the practice of yoga enough to get to class on time, not wear perfume, clean their mat and shut the eff up while they are breathing.