Comfort

Last night I took the 5pm class.  The owner of the studio was teaching.  She has a nice voice, it really puts me into a good frame of mind.  She also kept the room perfect.  I wanted to melt into my practice and wash away in a tide of good warm feelings.  I wasn't all that strong for some reason, but I did not get out of breath either.  So I sailed through a mediocre practice, happy just to be in the room.
Two very good yogi friends were present.  One had just returned from Peru, in fact he just landed two hours earlier and came straight to yoga!  The three of us practiced together, in a row, feeding off each other.  The guy in the middle is a good friend of mine.  We know each other from other places outside of yoga and find such joy in practicing next to each other.  During final savasana he reached over and hooked his pinky around my finger.  We lay there, breathing and resting as one yogi.  At the end of class he remarked happily "I had my slap buddy (they like to swat at each other during full locust) on one side and my comfort on the other."  I just smiled, because I knew I was the comfort and it made me feel good.