Yoga class story

This a true story
         but not for the faint hearted.


      Early morning yoga class was coming to it's close. 
Students were sitting lotus legged in Siddhasana pose,
their deep intonations hanging onto the last "Om" vibration.
They allowed their practice to draw from the well being and
good will toward all living things.

      "...with mindful concentration comes harmony," the
      yoga teacher was saying, "Now, thank yourselves for
      being here."

      Eyelids fluttered open as she went on, faces
returning their thoughts from the journey within.

      "Everyone was so focused on their postures that no
      one noticed the little grasshopper," she commented.

      Sure enough, the cricket hopped, oblivious to the
rows of legs and torsos, between two seated ladies at the
front of the classroom. The one woman, flush with energy
yet calm from the lack of involvement in her surroundings,
twisted her upper body around in Ardha Matsyendrasana,
looking behind her. Everyone gradually gazed at the little
critter.

      Somewhere else that morning, kids were dozing off in
school and adults were going about their business. And perhaps
it is possible to change to the outcome of future events.
Where was the harbinger of doom when you needed him, anyway?
      If only a small thing had been different. Maybe, had
the yoga teacher not been a former dancer, she would not have
moved so deceptively or so gracefully. She stretched to the
side wall in a deep lunge and scooped up a sneaker.

      "Hold still," she said, moving into a balance pose.
      She continued forward, bending thru her knees and
      passing the shoe from right to left hand, pressed down
      along the floor while squishing and sweeping the cricket
      to the side with one purposeful gesture.

      As if punched in our collective spiritual solar plexus,
we gagged on our breath. Unable to move, stones in sand pose,
we were disoriented. Was she our mentor or an aerobic imposter?

      The yoga instructor returned back to the seated position.
      "Namaste", she chanted.



      Later, I remembered the story of a modern day zen master
who while walking with a young student, asked for explanation of
the contemporary zen koan:

      "There is not enough time to work as little as possible".

      "Well", the aspirant began, "if time is given without
selfish..."

Whack! The monk batted the neophyte over the head with a
walking stick. And again, and again.