I was cursing myself last Sunday when my alarm went off at 7:30 in the morning. What the hell was I thinking signing up for a 9am yoga class? I could still feel last night's pomegranate mojitos swilling around my veins. Ugh. But I committed to writing about the event for On the Radar, so I pried my fingers off my duvet and climbed into my leggings and Uggs.
When I walked into the 2nd floor atrium of the MoMa however, all exhaustion evaporated. I couldn't help but get bowled over by the 25-foot-projections of lush colors and hypnotic images on the walls, created by Pipilotti Rist. I unrolled my mat and took a spot by the wall and marvelled at how many people of varying inclinations had turned up. There were serious aficionados warming up with headstands, and there was also a guy near me who was so clueless about yoga that he didn't even have a mat. There was a husband and wife with a child of maybe 3 who they prodded through the downward dogs and warrior poses. New Yorkers of all shapes and sizes, all here for a moment of peace in this crazy city we call home.
It was an amazing experience to have these beautiful images wash over me as I did the asanas and finally stopped to breathe. Virayoga founder Elena Brower gave a wonderful class, made even better by her legion of assistants who wandered the floor and gave corrections to the students. This inner peace, this feeling of being one with the world was priceless. And hey, it actually was. It was free! But wow, I would've paid to be there if I had to.
When I walked out of the MoMa after the class, I was so at peace that even a jackhammer's pounding sounded hypnotic. (I'm not even talking figuratively here. I literally passed a construction crew pounding with a jackhammer and thought, "Oh. How nice.") This was the first time in 2 years that I walked through the streets of New York without rushing, without anxiety. It was amazing. I need more yoga and art in my life, for sure.
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