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Every time I go to class I notice the girl in front of me. Some days she’s wearing a t-shirt because facing me is too much to do in a tank top. Other times she has the confidence I could only dream of, and it has nothing to do with what she ate or didn’t.   There are windy yoga classes where her tree is spent swaying, her half moon crumbling, and her butterfly looking more like a flying squirrel. There are days she has the grace of the ballerina that she used to be, and a mind as grounded as all four corners of her feet to our mats.

 

Two years ago she didn’t know a foot had four corners. She went through life without ever self-reflecting. Only looking in the mirror that stays between us to paint a face on- who ever she needed to be that day. Now here we are- she faces me bravely, knowing the only way to be proud of a better version of me is to be a better version of her. She will never truly see herself- when the first light of the day hits her face, when she laughs uncontrollably, how wonderful other people can find her… she only sees me to see her.

 

We are identical. When she moves to the right, I am moving to the left. Her long blonde hair in the same sloppy bun. Same name, same face, same intention. She is all that matters. All I strive to be and all I strive to be better than. I vow to never be concerned with what’s going on beside me, but rather within me. Within all of us.

 

Namaste, Angela.

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