This year marks the twentieth anniversary of  my yoga practice.  It is a sacred gift I carry with me wherever I go.  My mother introduced me to the benefits of yoga when I was a senior in high school, and we would go together every week.  We loved the teachers at Jivamukti Yoga in the heart of the East Village, when it was still a small studio.

I was very excited to finally take a class in India, the true birthplace of yoga.  Sadly, Jes’ favorite teacher Vijay left town so it was not the class we were expecting.  Even an average yoga class is better than no practice at all, right? It is a total treat to do yoga outside on a rooftop with gorgeous views of coconut tress and crazy crows spiraling around the sky.  It made me forget about the hustle bustle of motorbikes and tourists and pushy shopkeepers downstairs.

I also rarely get to have a nice long class in New York, this one was over 2 hours!  Most of the deep stretching (my favorite part) happens in the last part of class, and this often left out because of time constraints.  It made me miss practicing with Dharma Mittra, whose 2 1/2 hour master classes helped me survive photo grad school.

After the long flight and the stress that comes before a long voyage it made my body and mind feel heavenly.   I never met a practicing yogi that complained about having trouble falling asleep at night. Somehow I managed to completely avoid getting jet lagged too!

The lovely view from the rooftop of the yoga studio.

The empty studio after class ended.