I spent the first ten years of my life in Buffalo, New York. These years included the Blizzard of ’77, which buried our AMC Pacer so much that not even a hump of the car was visible in the snow. While these years calibrated my snow tolerance meter, I was not old...
Tuesdays and Thursdays, I arrive at Carrboro Yoga midday to sign in and enjoy Ruth’s noon Power Flow class. One of my first chores, and my most favorite, is cleaning the floor. I slowly push the wide dust mop back and forth over the century-old wood. When...
I was honored to teach a lovely group of yogis and yoginis for an all-levels, all-ages holiday practice today. In honor of the season, we enjoyed tree pose in a number of orientations: on our backs, standing, on our sides, and on our bellies. With 26 bodies and...
One of my regular private yoga lessons is to a couple in their home. I see the wife more often; the husband travels a lot for his busy job, and when he’s in town, he joins. This morning during practice, he remarked on the sounds of the house: an imbalanced...
My dog, Manta Ray, accompanies me on my twice-daily walk taking the girls to and from the elementary school down the street. Morning departure is hectic and broadly telegraphed, with increasingly insistent instructions about the packing of snacks and donning of coats...
It’s Wednesday evening and getting dark, and I’m feeling nostalgic for the class I’ve just retired from: a Yoga for Athletes class at the UNC Wellness Center. I taught the class for the last six years (and also taught indoor cycling there for four)....
