“Keep your eyes ha-ha . . . Keep your eyes hee-hee . . . Keep your eyes on something that’s not moving.” Thom, the new yoga instructor, stood in the middle of the circle on one leg, with his other heel wedged high into his crotch, his knee bent like a hairpin, both his arms straight up in the air like he was helping to land a plane, yucking it up like he always did. Keep your eyes on me, he meant, standing there like a cactus in a national park, like a rock formation in . . . another