Tapas and Red Wine

My new teacher inspired me so much, I would try to make 3 classes a week. I wasn’t the only one enamored with her teaching, several others would also make all three classes she taught in a week. Those of us who were her devoted students developed a deep kinship. We looked forward to her yoga classes and the commradery that came along with it. We often sat around and joked before and after class and sometimes one of us would make a good quip during class. She had a way of integrating philosophy with the asana that resonated with me. She didn’t rattle off a yoga sutra and translate it, rather she used the asana to get us to pay attention and stop the monkey mind. She used the asana to hone our powers of discernment and discrimination and yet feel our conncectedness to the whole. The sanskrit word TAPAS is often translated as burning zeal, and I felt some serious TAPAS toward my weekly yoga classes. I felt that she had tailored each yoga class to personally attend to me. I also felt an attraction toward her though I am straight. I realize now how much transference goes on in a yoga class.

She often gave credit to her teacher: Manouso Manos. I remember asking her, “Is that really his name?” I thought the name sounded like a porn star.

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