Yam overwhelmed at the moment with awe and gratitude towards everything that yoga and its gurus have given me over the past two decades.* The people, the practices, the purpose, the meaning - everything.
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*I was a little lost when my mother passed in April of 1997. Then an idea crept into my head from the back of my mind; why not try that yoga? It was on my list of things to try (which also included playing bass in a band and learning to surf) and a fellow waitress friend (another Amy) encouraged me to give it a shot, giving me my first sticky mat (in those days they came in a single color - royal blue). I ignored my first experience with yoga -- watching a friend do sun salutations in Central Park in 1990 *really* turned me off to the whole thing -- and signed up for my first, life-changing session at the Lincoln-Belmont YMCA. During the first class I forgot all of my problems - clearing out my mother's house and serving as executor of her estate, fighting with my sibling, losing my best friend and cheerleader [my mother], watching my two closest remaining friends go AWOL, and dealing with all of the accompanying emotions -- and felt peaceful for the first time in my life. I was in - hook, line and sinker. There was no question that I had found what I was looking for. I was home.