Everywhere you look in Yogaterra, people are excited. About today being the last day of class and lectures. About tomorrow being graduation, the day that would never come. About going home. About teaching Class Number One OH MY GOD. Everywhere you look there are cameras and hugs and camaraderie.
This time next Friday I'll be digesting myself as the minutes tick away to 3:45 p.m., my first class. By then the magnificent Bettina will already have taught two. Note to self: now would be a good time to rehearse them thar postures.
Yesterday we had the legendary Emmy Cleaves back to teach us class, and she came by and adjusted my stance in Triangle Posture, pushing my hip down a half-inch, that made a huge difference, especially in muscle contraction. I don't think, ultimately, that I lost any weight during training, because I've been building muscle fibres by the cartload. I'll always be a cement-bodied sweaty head, but by god a *toned* cement body after all these classes.
Last night one of the Fab Five, Chrissy, came by and surprised me with a thank-you gift ["The Daily Intellectual Devotional," a hardcover book that is heroin to know-it-alls] and a card. Thanks for driving her and the other Fabs to the laundromat, grocery store, etc. Chrissy, let me say it here: the thanks are all mine for you and the others being such good friends. I was overcome with surprise and touched by Chrissy's thoughtful generosity, and after we'd chatted for awhile, she took herself off to get ready for evening lecture, and I sat down and had a good, short wail. I've turned into quite the emotional diva as Teacher Training ends, I tell you. I can just see it now, I'll walk into the studio next Friday, climb onto the podium, and announce "My name is Jane, and I am your yoga-waaaaaaaa. . ." And all this time people have assumed my yoga towels were drenched with sweat. Nope: tears.
But since they've screwed up my billing a second time, I won't shed a drop for the hotel accounting staff, I tell you now.