Confession of a Yoga Teacher
During a class one day, suddenly and without any warning, the idea of “conversation” with the room became so tangible that I stopped talking in my head while teaching! Instead of pondering inside… Continue reading
During a class one day, suddenly and without any warning, the idea of “conversation” with the room became so tangible that I stopped talking in my head while teaching! Instead of pondering inside… Continue reading
I pour my coffee to a certain color this is how I measure a lot of things. Not one part this and one part that, just a little more here and how does… Continue reading
I don’t know why I love the silence so like touching the space between your fingers it calms me. Like the space between notes in a song it strings together a melody… Continue reading
You have to be present in certain things. Like scaling a treacherous rock face or tight rope walking across Niagara Falls. Teaching yoga. Though not nearly so fatal if your consciousness slips, it’s… Continue reading
It’s when my front thigh burns like the Boston Harbor on the Fourth of July. I could possibly suffer. Or make up chittings and chattings that lead me to suffer. Or comment on… Continue reading