OM

I took my first yoga class in the late '80s at my neighborhood health club in NYC.  Why I chose to take this class in place of my habitual step aerobics escapes me, but I do recall the teacher's bohemian leotard and watching the clock tick during an endless hour of breathwork.  I diverged from my routine and quickly concluded sighing like a lion and puffing my stomach out with each exhale wasn't for me.  My next attempt at yoga was in LA in the mid '90s.  Power Yoga was taking the city by storm and my fellow spinners were all praising the new trend.  There was a cult like energy in the hot, packed room and a hush greeted the instructor as he strode to the platform.  I'm certain I rolled my eyes.  The pace was chaotic and guidance limited.  I left frustrated and concluded, once again, yoga is not for me.  In the following years I witnessed many friends benefit from the practice.  I envied the body and mind rewards they reaped.   I wanted to partake, but my prior experiences kept me away.  Slowly, I opened myself up to trying again.  I started with basic classes, subscribed to YOGA JOURNAL and went on weekend retreats.  My experiences were inconsistent as was my commitment, but I did begin to understand the allure.  In the past year I have made yoga a priority.  The changes in my body and mind are both subtle and significant.  I'm grateful I've been able to work through my ego and commit to a practice I've been seeking for decades.