Description
My story with yoga began unexpectedly in the basement of a worn down church. The building was partially abandoned and surely condemned. I was driven there 10% out of curiosity and 90% to make my devout Christian mother uncomfortable.
Ten minutes later I found myself surrounded by people dressed in white, feeling light headed as the room panted, chanted, and rolled around like animals writhing in pain. My delicate adolescent psyche could barely withstand the “uncoolness” of it all. I began to ask myself if the pale look of terror I would receive from my mother when I told her I had joined a religious cult was worth it.
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