"Yoga"? Delusion VII. Part 2
I once heard from a yoga instructor that nettles are home to mosquitoes.
And I understood this to mean that the mosquitoes in the last birth were nettles. I have built my own Theory of Evolution on this basis.
Once, I proudly shared my thoughts with society.
"Let's look at a nettle thorn. Does it look like anything?" So I began my presentation with a question.
"Of course! Like a mosquito's nose!" I answered myself.
................
Sometimes a mosquito home is just a home...
Apparently it meant that mosquitoes live in nettles.
I would need to pay attention to the attitude towards me in the yoga group
II
The next morning I woke up, oddly enough on time. In the sense that there was only time left to roll the mattress and run to the audience. So I did.
The day passed unnoticed. I participated in the classes on an equal basis with the students, with the difference that I had to write everything down from the teacher's point of view. Let me remind you that I was actually a student. This duality did not bother me in the least, on the contrary, I thought that this method of teaching was more progressive.
At lunchtime, I dropped into "my" room. She was unrecognizable ... No mattresses, full of people - teachers of the Department of Medicine. There was a meeting going on, which puzzled me a little - in the midst of a class.
Then many amazing things happened in this institute. A new technique was being introduced (into which I joined without hesitation). But I will remind you that I was a student and received the status of a teacher as well. But there were teachers who were asked to become students from the beginning of the school year, that is, of the type of lowering their status. Not everyone accepted it. The institute split into two factions. On the one hand, stubborn teachers did not want to become students either. On the other hand, there are students who want to become teachers as well. There were actually two educational processes.
Having gone up to "my room", I witnessed this very "second educational process". There were "teachers" who ignored the classes and played the play "department meeting". However, they supplied the "alternative" educational process with study programs, and my task was just to collect this information as well. Which is what I did. I waited until the end of the meeting of the department, knocked about among the dispersed teachers, picked up scraps of paper with their notes. I even talked to someone. It is done. It's time for classes.
A snack? I took advantage of the empty room, brought food from the large hall, where I arranged my things between the seats. I settled down on the table, laid out the food.
And suddenly I felt that I was not alone.
Or rather, it was not quite so. Or rather, not at all.
That is, at first I really "felt" that I was not alone.
And then a lady entered the room ...
Let me remind you that I was not in the room, but in fact in the corridor, which led to the rooms proper (which were "occupied" with eyes burning in the darkness). The corridor was not a corridor either, but a square landing after the stairs. The area is partitioned off with curtains, so a corridor was formed, leading further into the rooms. And a room formed on the side, where I sat. That is, if you go up the stairs, you can immediately see me sitting on the table, since the curtains were pulled apart during the day.
Which is what happened. The lady climbed the stairs and found herself with me "face to face".
"Good afternoon!" I tried to be very, even extremely polite, as I knew this lady. I will not mention her status out of politeness.
Silence.
"I'm from ..." - I named my city. "I came for an internship."
Silence.
Then I realized how I looked. Sports suit, house slippers. I'm sitting on the table. Food is spread out. That is, it is clearly not a teacher by sight. And the lady was not dressed in sportswear. And obviously she had breakfast at home.
But I was struck by her face ... Stone mask ... And empty, expressionless eyes aimed straight at me...
Although I expected at least contempt or indignation at my appearance and inappropriate occupation in the lectern. There was nothing like that ...
Then she turned around and walked away. Just as silently.
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to be continued
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