I’ve stopped assigning values to the walls and oddly shaped windows and big clanging locks. It is just halls and doors leading to people who want to learn yoga. The class has evolved into a beginner level asana class, with equal parts breath-work and meditation. We have spent the last three classes getting to know each other. It is very gratifying to feed hungry people. Today I taught my fourth Men’s Prison Yoga class.

They are very vocal about what they want: clearing negativity, staying balanced in an escalating environment or “I’ll go anywhere you’ll take me.” They have not shared their stories with me, but I know they are in a 90-day program and will soon leave.

I’m thinking about how can I stay emptier. The class unfolds and delivers, and individually they have whispered to me that after each class they feel clear and quiet. Since I’m traveling Labor Day weekend, and there are no other men teachers yet, there won’t be class next weekend. They are visibly disappointed. I feel a pang of regret and I want to know how I can show up for them even better than today. I could do my sadhana for them. They are pulling it out of me.