Can we pause to talk about yoga?
My love for yoga started when I was around 9 or 10. My mom and her friends had a wonderful instructor come to our apartment in NYC and teach them. Since at the time I was a gymnast, yoga felt quite natural for me. I was bendy. And, by the way, I can still do a split, but that's another post for another time....
I've continued my yoga practice throughout the years and it has evolved as I have grown, filling different needs at different times (aerobic, spiritual, therapeutic). And I would consider myself able to keep up with most yoga classes in the states, perhaps omitting a few crazy arm balances here or there.
But today I took yoga at a local studio. This was not your New York yoga, friends. I was the youngest girl there and the only Westerner (clearly, this was not Pure Yoga). The women in my class were amazing and most of them were older - in their sixties, at least. (Are you sensing a trend with me and older women?). They outstretched me, out warriorerd me - went deeper, longer, bendier, breathier -than I ever could. While I was sliding on my mat, they barely broke a sweat. Oh yes, I will be going back tomorrow.
I love that I see older generations here doing Tai Chi in the park and stretching and dominating in yoga. And, clearly, they're on to something since Hong Kong tops charts at #8 in global life expectancy (US being number 50!).
I also love that the instructor referred to me as tall! At 5' 4 3/4" I have never, ever, been called tall!
And to that, I say namaste.
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