On more then one occasion, I have been at a social gathering where, upon learning that I am a yoga teacher, someone says, "Oh, I do yoga. Have you ever heard of P90X?" An appropriate response always seems to elude me…

A couple weeks back, I ran into someone who attended my class regularly in the past but discontinued coming after moving to a new apartment. She told me how much she missed the practice we were doing, that she still goes to yoga classes but they are not the same. She felt compelled to admit to me that there is often injurious things happening in these classes and she has sometimes hurt herself inadvertently. She quickly added, "...but I really like the challenge." The statement struck me because it implied that a simple and more deliberate practice is somehow not a challenge. Actually, being consistently careful and attentive with my breath and body is no small task.

In 1998, I had the rare pleasure of spending some time in the foothills of the Himalayan Mountains. One of the days I was there, we took a day trek to Amayangri Stupa (Amayangri means "the top,") an ancient site dedicated to contemplation and reflection, marked by a modest configuration of stones and tattered prayer flags. This was the highest elevation possible given that I was not a climber and to go any further requires equipment and training.

Those who frequent my class have probably never heard me mention energy or chakras. The reason being that these concepts have been so superficially disseminated into our pop culture as to render them almost entirely cliche. Catch phrases like "feel the energy" or "open your third eye" often make new-age fluff of subtle ancient truths.

Sometimes I question the merits of Yoga Journal Magazine. There are good ideas and inspirational sentiments to be found in this publication but it's difficult to separate from the not always so subtle inclination of effective advertising to exploit low self-esteem. Magazines depicting idealized notions of beauty that make us feel worse about ourselves is nothing new but, in the context of yoga, feels inappropriate…

My mother died of leukemia when I was sixteen years old. In the months leading up to her death, I didn't visit her in the hospital. I went once but after sitting in my car in the parking lot for thirty minutes, I left without going in. I just couldn't. I was not capable of dealing with what was happening. Eventually, I'd be hurried to her bedside regardless: for fear she was not going to make it through the night. I remember the nurse coming into the waiting room quickly and saying, "She's awake!"

The center has been open almost two months now and so far, so good. I met my sales goal in less then two weeks, and at the end of the first month, I was able to cover my operating costs and start paying down the debt. I attribute this entirely to the friendship of long-time students who expressed their support with dollars…

One month away from my official opening day, I oscillate between fear and excitement. On the practical side, I am taking on considerable debt, but if all goes well, I stand to double or triple my income in the next two years. On a heart level, I feel myself on the precipice of an uncharted course...

Becoming a yoga teacher was quite unintentional. Prior to getting married, I was content to earn a modest but adequate living. Now that I have a life partnership and we are considering our future, I find myself compelled to honestly examine the limitations of my profession.

Mary had decided to give Yoga one more chance, and seemed pleasantly surprised to be greeted before class. I believe this was the reason Mary felt comfortable approaching me after class to ask, "Why are Yoga teachers so different, and what kind of Yoga is this?" ...