As the Earth spins on its axis, birds chirp in one part of the world and waves crash onto the shore in another. Somewhere there, people are fighting, and somewhere else, people are dancing. 

Somewhere else, the sun is shining, and somewhere else, it's nighttime, and you are asleep. 

The average person has three to five dreams per night. 

What are you dreaming of? What was your happiest dream tonight? What were you manifesting?

But sometimes, you don't have time to answer these questions. Especially at 7:52 in the morning, with your chemistry class starting in eight minutes and you still in bed. 

So you run. From an 8AM chemistry class, to a 9AM shift at the Global Citizenship office, to a Politics class - when you suddenly remember that today is the day to submit your taxes! - to a library shift to a social justice class (and you wish you had more time to dedicate to that fascinating reading about pansexuality), to an ISA event and your dance class, and hopefully dinner, and your fellowship application and the piano homework that you really need to work on and so on and so on...

                     And you run 

                                 and run 

                                         and run

What keeps you up at night? 

Your government murdering people - Ukraine has now been bombed for sixty seven days. 

The uncertainty of my summer - my next year - my life. 

My family.  When can I see them again? How is my grandmother doing? Where is home?

Visa struggles. Can I finish my undergraduate degree here?

Burnout, and loneliness, at times, and that environmental economics class, and that graduate school interview and uncertainty.  So much uncertainty. 

But in the midst of this hectic race to finish the spring semester, I found time to organise a yoga class this afternoon. 

I wanted to organize the class to support the mental health of the Centre community during a time of stress and burnout. 

But I ended up organising it to support myself. 

It's windy and cloudy, and I don't know if anyone will come. Did the payment to the instructor go through? Did I advertise it enough? What if it starts raining? What if no-one shows up?  

Take a deep breath.

Ten people came. 

Abi, who can do cool yoga handstands, and Ibrahim, who hasn't done yoga in two years. Ezzat, who tries it for the first time and Anahit, who has been doing yoga for a while now.

Together, we sit on our yoga mats in the garden. 

We listen to the wind above us, moving clouds and leaves. We listen to ourselves.

Take a deep breath. 

Do you see that bug crawling on your hand? I wonder where they are going. They look determined, intentional, going on with their life.

After a few sun salutations, our instructor guides us into the child's pose. For some reason, I feel tears falling from my eyes as I hug myself gently, still breathing. 

I don't really know why I'm crying, but I acknowledge, accept, welcome my tears. 

This semester I am learning to accept all my emotions.

For the next pose, our instructor guides us to  Warrior Three, asking us to balance on one leg.  

My knee keeps shaking, and I am wobbling, side to side, frantically trying to find my balance. 

Our instructor says, "Sometimes involuntary trembling is your body releasing stored stress."

She says, "Don't be afraid to fall. Your body and your mat will catch you. You are supported by the earth beneath you. Do you feel this support?"