by Cyndi Lee An excerpt from May I be Happy: A Memoir of Love, Yoga, and Changing My Mind. Every day I meet a woman who tells me how much she loves my gray hair and how much she wants to let her own hair go gray. She says that she thinks I am so [...]
Often a guest will land in my office at Kripalu for a nutrition consult and say, “When I’m bad, I eat…” and rattle off his dietary “sins” in great detail. He’ll say, “And when I’m good, I eat…” and report a reasoned—even enlightened—diet in union with his ideals and body. For decades, willpower was thought [...]
by Carly Sachs, guest blogger
I remember shyly asking my classmates to take off their shoes, the school linoleum cold on our feet as we teetered and crashed into our desks and each other. The assignment for Ms. Rotar’s seventh-grade English class was to give a how-to speech. I had decided I wanted to teach my class to do yoga, despite the fact that I had never actually done yoga. So armed with my books from the public library, I taught my fellow students how to do Tree pose, Vrksasana.
Why I was so determined to do yoga still confounds me. I’d heard about yoga for the first time in the course catalog of my local Jewish Community Center under the classes for seniors, and soon after my seventh-grade speech, I asked my mom to sign me up.