For as long as I could remember, I thought of yoga as something that belonged to people of incredible spirituality who also had the gift of being as flexible as Gumby. I pictured Harry Krishma types - beads, robes, silence interspersed with chanting. Non-bug-squashing, yogurt eating people who live on a higher ground than I.

Since yoga found me, I have seen myself changing from the inside out. I have equated it with how a microwave cooks a potato - the way it softens from the inside out. I don't wear robes, I squash disgusting bugs with the exception of an occasional spider, I do eat yogurt sometimes, and I certainly don't live on a higher ground...it's more like a 1st floor apartment!

I am one of the many who finds the stress of day to day routine enough to push me over the edge, depending on the day and the forces I encounter on my journey. I have come to look at my yoga mat as my 6' of territory that no one can mess with. It is my salvation at the end of my day, since most of my practice is in the evening.