Awkward Moments

I plopped my mat beside a woman-black capris, black tank top, purple mat. We start our vinyasa practice and slide into twisted crescent lunge. The woman wobbles, grunts, and makes uncomfortable rumblings to herself. We ascend back to crescent lunge and then flow into Warrior III. Again, she stumbles, grunts around, and then look at me, her eyes pleading, “Help! I feel like an idiot.” Her eyes had the same expression that my traumatic brain injury patient looked at me with as my patient laid in bed, projectile vomiting, unable to communicate her problem. I simply smiled at the woman who was flailing around on her mat. The class, in unison, turned to face the sidewall and we bowed down into wide-legged forward bend. As gravity pulled this same woman down toward her mat, her feet teetered and slid back closer to the back edge of her mat-with each stumble her spandexed ass crept closer to my face. I looked between my legs, closed my eyes and thought of a happy place. At the close of our practice, we laid back in a reclining twist. The class was full, mats were tight, and her arms hovered directly over my body. Her arms shook as she held them suspended above my torso, oblivious to the rest of the class positioning their arms above their heads on the ground, in order to avoid hitting the person next to them. I am wondering now, should I have said something to this woman so she would not violate the person beside her in her next yoga class? I am glad to have had the opportunity to practice yoga next to this woman, but displeased with myself for not having found some way to make her feel more welcomed and understand the practice.