Marmalade French Toast

It’s fun to dine out with friends visiting from out of town, but I think I prefer cooking for them. It’s one thing to be able to share your city’s fine gustatory offerings, but it’s another thing to carefully, lovingly prepare a menu, then the meal, then to bring that food to your own table, to feed and honor your guest. I love it; it is very heart-expanding, this action of providing something for another person. This is the essence of service. Especially when it’s Mother’s Day and you haven’t made brunch reservations, anywhere.

Over the weekend, I took the next step in my yoga teacher-training journey: I attended a hands-on assistance/adjustment clinic. In the form of yoga that I’m practicing and learning to teach, an instructor (or guide) often moves around the class and helps each student with their practice by putting his/her hands on the student, in various specific ways. This assistance is given in order to keep the student from getting hurt, or to help them get the most benefit from the pose or transition. Sometimes it will deepen a stretch, sometimes it will relieve tension in a muscle group and help the student relax.

I have to admit, I feel very new to the field of providing such service to others. I posted earlier, about my stupefaction when someone told me that the yoga class I led her through made her feel good. I will not say that the feeling is intoxicating, but it does have an allure from which I can’t turn away. This is partly because in general I’m drawn to challenges, but it’s also partly because I believe that one thing we need to do in this life is help each other. With each passing year, that truth becomes more apparent to me. And, almost suddenly, I am able to help people. I have something to share.