A Bird in the Hand

It's wet and warm today, but the leaves are turning. Slowly.

 My gift to myself this fall is the yoga class, and instructor, that I've been looking for. I did several years of hatha yoga, but then my teacher left. She was excellent and I never found a class to equal hers. For a while, I practised yoga at home, but my discipline would slip, and before I knew it, years had gone by. About a year ago, I looked around, tried a few classes in different studios, but every class diverged from hatha, being tweaked and added to by the teachers for reasons I cannot fathom. There was no hatha to be found. And the straw that broke the camel's back was a class with music so loud that I couldn't hear the teacher's instructions. To say nothing of the discomfort of all the "new" moves. I left with my nerves jangled and raw. So I stopped looking, until recently I walked past a studio that actually had hatha on its sign. I went in, and the rest is history.

 

Simplicity is the removal of the useless and the unnecessary--source unknown