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I’ve wanted to be a free spirit for as long as I can remember. It’s taken me the better part of 50 years to figure out what that means and how to live that way.

Back in the 1990s, I listened to Madonna’s “Ray of Light” on repeat, learned about yoga from an interview she did with Oprah (probably something I programmed my VHS to record on a tape – that was life before streaming video) and took my first yoga class. It was at a Gold’s Gym in West Concord, Massachusetts. I really wish I could remember the teacher’s name, simply because it’s where my yoga practice started. I’d love to thank her. Yoga, in various shapes and forms, has been a part of my life since then.

I’ve practiced Ashtanga consistently since 2011, through my 40s. Someday I’ll have a lot to say about what it means to practice through breast cancer treatment and menopause. My perspectives will settle with the time, and I’ll know when I’m ready for that. I’d love to teach yoga but right now I don’t, for one reason: I’m not sure I could teach as well as my teachers have taught me.

I am not authorized, certified, or blessed to teach Ashtanga. I don’t know that the blessing matters, but what it represents does, I think. It’s for those who have really devoted exceptional time and energy to putting their practice first. I went to Mysore, and practiced with Saraswathi Jois, back in 2019. I’m glad I went; the experience taught me things I didn’t expect to learn.

In 2021, my first Ashtanga teacher invited her students to a weekly, online pranayama class. Not long after that I became a regular at Eddie’s pranayama classes. Building a regular pranayama practice and learning more about it has been one of the highlights of the past couple of years for me.


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