It has been almost 15 years since I took my first yoga certification. And it has been probably 14 years since I became a full-time yoga instructor. My life between the ages of 25 and 39 has centered around the practice and teaching and study and business of yoga. My practice has morphed so many times, like one of those beautiful cephalopods that change color based on the environment they are in. I could definitely say that my practice has always been a reflection of my life's

I stood staring at the tiny white pill in my hand. I was supposed to believe that this pill would alleviate my pain, my fears, my inability to function, my sadness and disconnection from the things I loved, my extreme and disturbing thoughts about life and death. It took me a few minutes to swallow my pride before I could swallow the pill. I knew I was moving into unknown territory. On paper, it didn’t make any sense for me to be experiencing a “major depressive episode,” as

One of the great things about teaching many yoga classes every week in a city like New York is that you get to meet a diverse and wide range of professionals—doctors, lawyers, CEOs, celebrities, Ph.D.’s, scientists, teachers and professors. I've been blessed to have in my classes professionals of every possible field. One of my favorites to have in class are teachers. Because they know the importance of learning, and they understand and appreciate the role of the teacher. And

Over the last few months I’ve been puzzling over this.... What is the best way to handle it when other yoga teachers come to your class and decide to put extra scoops of protein and spirulina into every single posture or flow you offer? They go for the large size fries even if you offer only the small. They go for Venti even if you offer only Tall. They add extra shrimp even when the plate only comes with veggies. What's the highest road to take? Should you say something when