early morning

Yoga Practice.

I am told that the benefit of early morning practice is that, while the body is stiff, the mind is most clear.  Oh, the things the experts say.
  I generally have some sort of crude autopilot mind so early.
Anyway, here's the stage...

It's dark in little Italy. There is a cafe that opens at 5, and some relaxed folks are gathered around tables on the sidewalk drinking coffee.  There is an old man, who moves at one pace, which could best be described as a crazy shuffle jog...he is wearing large gum boots that jangle with every step, and he wanders about the sidewalks, into the street, like a fly in late autumn zigzagging around.  He does not wait for traffic lights to cross busy intersections, instead he unbuttons his shirt and waves it over his head as he shuffle jogs across the road.  People approach cautiously in vehicles and always stop.
  I  make my way down the sidewalk past language schools and bookstores and cafes and doctor's offices and massage/pilates/yoga/physio clinics, cafes, bridal shops, chemists, fat loss centers, cafes.....and I reach my destination.
  A smallish studio populated by only my teacher, usually.
She sets things up while I take off shoes and set down bags and find my money.  I pay her, I go upstairs to pee, and I return to grab a couple blankets and mat to keep handy for relaxation at the end of practice.
  Then I start.
Facing the wall, I silently begin warm ups.  No problem, these are etched into my body.
  But when the sequence begins that I have decided to work with that day, I am suddenly in a new reality.
I am naked.  On most levels.  I have not built up the usual mask I wear maybe, or intellectual memory is still sleeping or something like that.
  My teacher is silent, watching me, and I try to keep in myself focus to the practice.  Another student or two might appear after a little while and start themselves.
  Maybe I am so sensitive in the morning so early, as this is generally the vivid dream time, moments before my alarm wakes me....
  In a way, I am dreaming there facing the wall.

At some stage, always a different one, she comes to adjust me, to correct me, to interrupt a flow I may have been on.  In this sensitive dream state, it is like I am a spinning top on the ice.
  Sometimes I am cheerful about it, sometimes I nearly burst into tears, often I am bewildered.
Naked.
I begin Wednesdays standing exposed in a way only the body can be revealing.  In ways I can sense, but not fully appreciate.
  When it is over, I walk 10 minutes to Raggamuffin to listen to sweet music, eat a home steam-baked delicious muffin and have a flat white.
  Much has changed in me since I first began these sessions.  And nearly all of it is hidden to my conscious mind.  
  Much has not changed that I consciously keep tabs of.  This is the way of this delicate dancing art.  It is called Chaya Shadow for a reason.
  Only by observing the shadow can we come to light.