Monkeys in my heart
Last Sunday a friend invited me to a yoga class. After two weeks spent exclusively in my car, at a desk, or on the couch I was in serious need of a body reconnection. I have done yoga, in a not very disciplined manner, off and on for the last 6 years, but what I have learned could not have prepared me for this class. My understanding of yoga is not very historical and not very sophisticated. I took it up pretty diligently for a year or so after my brother committed suicide. It was a way for me to process the ocean of that experience and I am almost certain that without it I would have...well, I wouldn't have been able to face the reality of that death in quite the same way. The class started late and the wooden floor was filled by the time the yogi, a be-turbaned, 67 year old woman, joyfully made her way to the front of the long room. She was late and she spoke for some time about a yoga conference she had just returned from. She had attended the conference as the lead rep...