By Jennifer GaramI was yoga-less all week. I’d already blown money on a seven-day Bikram yoga pass, but I didn’t want to go back after my first miserable class. Instead I seethed in resentment—pretty much the opposite of yogic behavior.
By Saturday I was a free agent again. So on Sunday evening, a sacred time usually reserved for watching TV in my pajamas, I traveled 45 minutes across New York City to attend one of my favorite Vinyasa classes. I needed to rekindle my love for yoga, so I selected the most un-Bikramlike session I could find, complete with soothing soundtrack and meditation. Read More
No comments:
Post a Comment