It was crazy hot.
The only remotely “zen” thing about the class was that we had a five- or six-month-old baby, G., watching us from his basket, next to his mom at the barre. Two or three of us, but especially U., would occasionally waft over to him and coo at him, trying to get a response. U. was able to make him laugh really hard.
So this is the zen thing: why is a five-month-old baby laughing so hard? What’s so funny, G.?