Can I Be of Service?

On one of the last Fridays of October, as I was fixing the lights and setting the temperature in the studio to teach my last class of the day, she walked in. I’d seen her many times before. We hadn’t talked or formally introduced ourselves, although I did assist her in class a few times in the past. She seemed to be rushing to get to the studio in time, but then, so are most other people at the 5.30pm class after a long week.

She always sets her mat at the same spot. She rarely takes a break. She is really into the practice. Her attention is there, she moves with ease, she explores some of the variations I offer, but she takes her time to enter the postures. She is present for her practice. It seems to me that she has been practicing for quite a while. Sometimes a teacher can sense a student’s particular approach to the practice, what kind of connection they have to the teachings. I’m always interested to see what I can learn about my students’ lives simply by observing how they move and express themselves through the postures. This woman really enjoys her time on the mat. And that, for me, is like catnip. It inspires me to become a better teacher every day.


Perhaps I should mention, at this point, that she is blind.

For some strange reason, it had never crossed my mind before to approach her and see if she needed anything. Maybe it was because she looks so independent and strong as she walks in with her cane to make sure she doesn’t bump into any of the columns in the studio. Maybe I just felt too awkward and embarrassed to cross that boundary and reach out to her. What if she got offended when I ask if she needs help? Would it put her on the spot and make her feel that she is different from the rest of the students in the class?

I don’t know why, but this time was different. Maybe it was the effect of meditating more consistently during the previous few weeks, or something from all these self-help books I’d been devouring. Maybe it was something from the Buddhist teachings on compassion and loving-kindness that were circulating in my brain, or my morning mantra, “Can I be of Service?” Maybe it was the recurrent thought of my mom and dad being far away and not getting any younger. Who knows? But at that particular moment, amidst the few unimportant things my mind was trying to accomplish before class, a strong current pulled me towards her. From deep inside me emerged the most shy, “Can I help you?”

Although she didn’t need me to, she was glad I walked her to her favorite spot. I set her mat, blocks, and blankets. I made sure she knew how far was she from the columns and from the wall behind her. The younger generations in front rows were staring speechless as they understood why I was helping her.

This is the kind of opportunity that can take you out of your comfort zone while reminding you of your values — of what is really important, meaningful and human. For those of us who have the gift of vision, it encourages us to see with more openness, not to get so isolated in our comfort zone and instead to reach out and offer service. After all, it is outside our comfort zone where the most important qualities that make us human are trained and put to the test: our compassion, our tenderness, our caring for others. Isn’t that what life is about after all?

Can you be of service?