In which we outsmart ourselves

It never fails: whenever Bettina and I try to anticipate our places in the yoga bubble or in the posture clinic, we get it wrong. This week Himself is supposed to be teaching the morning classes (although he didn't today), so in anticipation of a slightly sleep deprived and therefore crankier guru, Bettina and I have set our mats down in outermost Bikramia -- i.e., as far to the edge as possible, to stay out of his view. But when Himself is not there, this effort seems pointless. In posture clinics, we try to bag places against the wall, only to have the evaluators come in the room and evaluate that our sitting place is exactly where they should be sitting, or where the demonstrators should set up.
 
There is a lesson in everything, say the enlightened. This lesson? Wherever we are is perfect. Except when it isn't.