When I picture yoga, I
picture eternal moments of peaceful zen--me in a bamboo yoga tank
in lotus position, eyes closed while the universe swirls in
breathtaking, heartbreakingly beautiful patterns around me, sliding
into my soul and making me one with everything. When I actually do
yoga, there my ass is, up in the air, my arms are aching and my
knees are trembling and sweat is pouring down my elbows and onto my
hands and the only way I'm going to be one with everything is
when I finally slip, smash face-first into my mat and knock myself
out.
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