So here goes my first musing. I’d like to dedicate it to the first time I realized yoga was for me.

Picture me, in 2017. I was living in Xi’an, China, teaching English to kids. I was stressed and overworked. With Asia right at my back door, I decided to spend my holiday exploring the mystical Angkor Watt, followed by a 10 day yoga retreat at a center called Hariharalaya (many blessings to Joel Altman and the rest of the family there!).

Angkor Watt and Cambodia as a whole is beautiful, a reminder of what really matters:

Happiness, no matter what you have, or don’t.

From the ruins of temples that were once covered in rubies, emeralds and diamonds, to the outpouring of generosity and kindness shown to me by people who had very little, I came to a realization that my outlook needed to change. What I cared about was just superficial.

10 days of reflections, yoga, meditation and no phone showed me just that. What does really matter?

Well, the first thing that hit me like a ton of bricks was that ANYBODY CAN PRACTICE YOGA.

Yes! ANY BODY.

Images of skinny, white women doing one-handed handstands in front of an idyllic view suddenly were irrelevant and my whitewashed opinion of what yoga is turned out to be a big fat lie.

Cue the Hallelujah chorus, complete with cherubs emerging from the sky holding banners and playing trumpets.