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Nearly lost it on the way home from my yoga studio today. No, not falling off my bike… instead, deep sobs of gratitude welling from the pit of my stomach.

Had a little temp work in the last week, from Friday to Friday, four hours a day. Crazy little job really. Sitting on a reception desk where the phone hardly rings, and being told Oh, just look up whatever you like online… They worried if I’d be bored, without realising what an internet addict they had on their hands. Being paid to read blogs/Twitter/Facebook for four hours a day really isn’t bad, considering I’d be doing just that anyway…

Due to this surge of gainful employment, I wasn’t able to do all my hours at the yoga studio this week. Which kinda freaked me out, as I don’t like to disappoint once I’ve made an agreement.

But my yoga teacher said not to worry, and that it was better for me to be out there earning money. Actually, she’s been apologising for only being able to offer me cleaning work – can you imagine? Several times I’ve explained how damn grateful I am to be offered anything at all.

And it’s not that I’m superstitious or anything, but sometimes the space for a change of any kind requires a realignment. If you can’t make it happen yourself, a warm hearted and caring person can perhaps do it for you.

But certainly, I’ve seen more work in this last week than I have in three months. And none of it happened until after my teacher went out of her way to help me. I’m just sayin’.

So anyway, I arrived two hours early today to catch up on my hours for the week. Cleaning I find, is service work of a sort. It brings me joy to help maintain a place that’s becoming like a second home for me.

Then five hours of class, and as I’m leaving my teacher asked me if I’d like to be paid for my work thus far – literally half of the time I’d agreed to. Given it was that or withdrawing more money out of my dangerously depleted bank account, I said sure.

And get this – she pays me as if I’d worked 100% of the hours. Tells me it’s for good luck when I suggested she didn’t have to do that.

So I’m leaving with cash in my pocket, only half of which I’d actually earned and my eyes stinging madly. They’ve been stinging on and off all night.

Tried to think about the last time I did something for someone like that – just gave them money or goods or food – directly benefitting them in a way they really need.

Sure, I donate clothes and belongings to charities on a regular basis. But it’s not quite the same, is it?

Not that it was a lot of money but it wasn’t nothing either, and it’s gonna keep me afloat in the coming week.

It means a great deal more to me than that, though. Such a powerful act of kindness is a teaching in itself, isn’t it?