It was the third day of studying with my late teacher, Michael, and before I asked him to officially be my teacher. At the end of practice, he guided us into savasana, and, to let go of control of our breath. After a few moments, in which I thought I had set aside any shaping of my breath, Michael quietly walked over, sat down next to me, and placed his hand on my abdomen. He asked me if I could let go of my breath. My belly began to shake and warm tears streamed down my cheeks and flowed over my ear lobes. I didn’t know why I was crying. But, I did know that this was an important teaching. I asked him to be my teacher later that afternoon. An ask that had only happened once before in my life, and one that hasn’t happened since.