It’s teaching. Nothing really new or different about it. Aside from the distinct lack of office supplies which totally doesn’t feed my need to periodically wander the aisles of Staples. I will have to find other excuses and I am sure I am up to the task.
But it didn’t feel like work. Not that teaching ever really felt like actual work. I’ve had jobs that were work in the sense that they didn’t matter, contributed nothing that wouldn’t be missed and basically contributed to the atrophy of my intellect.
So, I know what “work” is.
Teaching yoga? Not work.
I feel like I’ve discovered some great scam and yet, I am doing something for people and furthering my own journey.
The class went well. My timing bites, but it’s a learned thing and I will learn.
Interesting aside. After I locked up for the morning, I headed to the parking lot via the back stairs and as I approached the bottom, I stepped into a thick residual haze of pot vapors.
The young fella minding the skater shop across the way had just returned from a snack run up those stairs. Now there is the perfect teen job, eh?
But it was a good morning.