the whole plate. » yoga

dedication.

leslie — Wed, 14 Apr 2010 16:16:49 +0000

I have never been an athletic person. In high school, I was the girl who stood in the back during gym class, chatting with her friends and letting the dodge ball pass her by. If it hadn’t been a requirement, I can guarantee I wouldn’t have even owned a pair of sneakers. I remember specifically having to buy a pair before my post-college-graduation Birthright trip to Israel, where good sneakers were required for desert hiking.

These days though, I think I’m in pretty good shape. I have muscle. I have stamina. And yet, I find myself unable to hold my own in conversations with most “fit” people: I don’t run anymore, I never raced, I don’t take abs classes or spin classes or even belong to a gym. I don’t subscribe to the “get it done” or “burn off those calories” philosophy when it comes to sweating. Sure, this all started due to injury, but that isn’t necessary justification anymore.

Now, I happily say: I’m just a yoga person.

Some people get that, but most don’t. Mulling that reaction over recently, I realized: why does it matter? I’ve never been part of the athlete club. That doesn’t mean I’m not strong. That doesn’t mean I’m not dedicated.

highly unattractive post-yoga breakfast of homemade muesli. a blend of kiwi, dried cherries, pistachios, banana, ginger, oats, soy milk, and yogurt. a big yummy mess.

I’ve never had a problem with dedication. I took twelve years of ballet lessons, and a few other forms of dance along the way. I can remember the day I put on my first pair of pointe shoes, how proud I felt, how excited I was. My ballet teacher didn’t put our entire class on pointe together – you had to be ready for it. You had to have enough strength, enough balance, enough dedication – and that was unique to each one of us.

I still have that first pair of pointe shoes. My mom had burned the edges of the ribbons with a match, to keep them from fraying. I scraped away the shine from the pale pink toes to make the slippery shoes more practical for balancing. I remember pulling the ribbons taut – criss cross, one time around the foot, double knot, hide the edges inside the ankle. I walked, duck-footed as I did back then, into the studio. I stood at the wall, bent into a deep plié, one hand just touching the barre for balance, and I rose up, suddenly growing eight and a half inches taller.

some things do change over the years – my meals being number one on that list.

No one doubted my activity level back then, save for one gym teacher with whom I got into a heated debate about just how sweaty you can get a ballet barre. As an adult though, I find myself often faced with the stigma that if someone isn’t making it to the gym, lifting weights, sweating it out on a machine, getting the heart rate into that perfect range, then that person isn’t fully committed to her health. People look at me and say, “Oh yeah, I do yoga too, sometimes. A vinyasa class is great after an X mile run.”

Back in my dancing days, I had physical proof of my dedication: my toes told the real story. They were crushed, calloused, blistered. Sometimes they bled or even went numb. None of us in those classes cared. Our legs were strong, our bodies centered.

I think, maybe, I was meant to do yoga in my adult life. I no longer need my feet to bleed to prove my dedication. My uniform is no longer a body-hugging leotard and tights. My equipment now rolls into a cylinder, and I go barefoot. But I am still committed.

Just as I slowly mastered triple pirouettes, someday, I believe I’ll be able to stand on my head in yoga class. Someday, I’ll be able to do this. That someday might be years in the future, and so, in the meantime: for a few hours a week, I dedicate myself. I practice.

For me, that is fitness, and it is the only type that I need.

To what are you dedicated?

a piece of a lifestyle [plus a giveaway].

leslie — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 14:25:51 +0000

Yesterday morning, I had planned on an hour of yoga. I got out of bed, filled up my water glass, and sipped for a minute. Then, I climbed back under my covers and reset my alarm for 45 minutes later. [I used the other 15 to fold and put away laundry. Does anyone else hate doing that?]

Why did I blow off the morning sweat? Well, I was sore. Sore enough that on Monday, my quads were still burning while I was sitting at my desk, writing away the afternoon at work. Sore enough that I took the subway on a trip I would normally walk on Monday evening. Sore enough that I seriously considered popping some Advil on Tuesday morning. Sore. Seriously.

I happily took a day of rest on Tuesday, ready to wake up yesterday morning energized and eager to get back on the mat. Standing at my kitchen counter, I felt several muscle groups in my body still screaming, and I quickly changed my mind. My date with my mat would have to wait another day.

I no longer panic about taking extra days of rest. I’ve said before that I try hard not to equate the food I eat with the exercise I do, and that means skipping or shortening a yoga session should not affect how I go about my day.

Truthfully, I don’t think I could have developed this outlook if I hadn’t had to stop traditional cardio. Because though I often wish I didn’t, I know the calorie content of nearly every food in existence, and I also know how many calories I used to burn per mile running, on the elliptical, or on a bike. I was really good at math in school, and numbers stick in my head.

Yoga has helped me see exercise as a piece of a lifestyle, rather than a constant balance of addition and subtraction. Not only do I not have one clue how many calories I burn in a class, but I also don’t believe it matters. Yoga keeps my body going strong both on and off the mat – it forms a major part of what makes my life active, and that is far more important than counting any number. I’m no marathon runner or triathlete, so an obsession with perfecting the fuel equation just doesn’t apply.

I could go on [and often do] about how zen yoga makes me feel. But after this unintentional rest day, I’m excited to share something a bit more tangible.

The mat pictured above, along with the handy sport towel and rosin bag [to prevent slipping], is courtesy of a small company named Aurorae. I love their story: the company was founded by a cancer survivor whose life became enriched by yoga. There is no pretentiousness, no intensity in his tale – only a love for yoga and its effect on his life. He isn’t a yoga instructor or motivational guru – his products are simply meant for the basic, “everyday student.” That would be me.

Anyone who practices any form of exercise will tell you how important good equipment is. Mats that slide across the floor or flake away with every strike of a foot take a lot of joy out of a good yoga practice. So when I was given the opportunity to try out one of Aurorae’s mats, I jumped at the chance to finally enjoy a real, high-quality, yoga-specific tool.

I used it during the three classes that had me crippled earlier this week. I loved its extra-long length and heavier weight, which kept it from sliding whatsoever on the floor. It has great cushioning, and I’m a fan of the soothing pale violet color [each color is associated with a different relaxing meaning, which makes me smile]. My only complaint was that my hands slid a bit when I got very sweaty, and the rosin bag didn’t help too much. However, I laid the towel across the top of the mat, and that worked perfectly.

The generous people at Aurorae would like to extend this same gift to one of my lovely readers. I’m psyched, as I strongly believe everyone, regardless of skill level, gender, strength, or flexibility, can use a little [or a lot] yoga in their life. So, for a chance to win a mat, sport towel, and rosin bag:

Leave a comment telling me a healthy piece of your lifestyle.
If you’re a blogger, link back to this post for another entry [and comment to tell me you did].
If you’re on Twitter, tweet about this post for another entry [and comment to tell me you did].

So if you’re connected through every form of social media, you can get three entries. :)

You have until midnight next Friday, March 19th to enter. I’ll randomly pick a winner on Saturday morning. Good luck!

looking forward.

leslie — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 17:27:24 +0000

I have a tough time keeping my head in the present.

Currently, as an intern, I don’t have much idea of what my professional life will look like past this spring. I know that now it’s going as perfectly as I had hoped. I know that I am learning, observing, and accomplishing each and every day. But I also know that it is short term.

Still, I find that I am always looking ahead: dreaming up possibilities for the months to come, making plans for the weekend or the summer, basically, contemplating every inch of the future. I’ve done this for years. I remember imagining my life at the film school I hoped to attend [I got in; then I transferred out] when I was still five years away from collegiate age. I envisioned my life as a student abroad before I had ever left the country. I pictured myself as a New York working professional while I was still a European assistant.

It’s a bit paradoxical, because I’ve never really known what I actually want my future to be. I don’t mind the unknown; I’ve learned over the years to embrace it. But that hasn’t stopped me from thinking about the future anyway.

“sweet potato hash” topped with poached eggs; side of roasted brussels.

These thoughts all began on my yoga mat [shocker]; I was in the midst of a podcast I return to quite often, and it occurred to me that the next sequence would allow me a short respite in triangle pose. I love triangle pose. Something about that stretch feels designed exactly for my body, and it seems to uncannily arrive precisely when I need a few moments to catch my breath. I always settle into it with such a sense of calm; I always lift out of it with such a sense of strength. Remembering that it was only a minute or so away, the edges of my lips curved just a bit upward. I was looking forward to it.

I used to experience this sentiment back when I ran as well. I trained myself to start at my slowest, so each run always felt like a journey, building and changing over the course of the miles [though I'm sure I idealize this now - there were bad runs too]. Usually, though, a moment would occur sometime toward the end of the first mile: my momentum would grow, a rhythm would set in, and the freedom of running in fresh air would lay before me. One foot in front of the other: I would look forward to it.

tonight, i’m looking forward to making this dinner again. i mean, just look at that runny yolk.

I am realizing there is a difference between mulling a future largely out of my control and simply contemplating the little things I can choose to do each day. It’s the thought of those small intentions that compose each day: awaiting the arrival of an online purchase, rereading a classic novel and knowing a beloved sentence will come in the next chapter, chopping ingredients in preparation of a dinnertime craving, smiling into a favorite yoga pose.

The future will likely always be a question mark. But I’m grateful for those tiny moments of anticipation – they let my mind wander to the future without ever straying too far from the present. It’s nice to look forward – as long as it’s not too far.

What little moments do you look forward to in your daily life?

vanity on the mat.

leslie — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 18:13:54 +0000

On several occasions in the past few months, my mom has mentioned to me that she admires my discipline when it comes to exercise.

Usually, I tell her that discipline isn’t out of strictness, but because I truly enjoy it. It is mental rather than physical commitment: the time before my day when I get to be the one posing the challenges, making the decisions, choosing to push myself – or let myself take a break. I always feel refreshed after a yoga class, and I always carry that feeling of power with me throughout the day.

Sometimes, however, there is a piece of my brain that comes to the surface, and it expresses different motivations for getting on my mat. In those moments, I am not repeating chaturangas because I want to feel strong, but because I want to look strong. I want to see more muscle tone; or, I have to ensure I maintain that which I already have. If I find myself having one of those bad mirror days we all have, I’ll think that yoga will help.

In a way, it does, as I can tell that small piece of myself that I’ve done everything I can. But deep down, I wish I didn’t feel any obligation to my vanity. I have worked hard to look past that, and I am trying even harder to rid exercise of those associations as well.

leftovers made into lunch: not made for vanity, definitely enjoyed for flavor

For twelve years before college, I took ballet lessons. I went to those classes because I loved them. I wasn’t particularly great by any means, but it didn’t matter – I adored the artistry, the accomplishment of improvement, the sweat that built over the hour warm-up at the barre. I looked in the mirror to check my form, to maintain a calm expression, to see if I was performing with grace. It had nothing to do with my size.

I want to practice yoga for the same reasons, not ninety percent of the time as I do now, but every single time I unroll my mat.

I don’t believe it’s realistic to expect anyone, male or female, to praise their reflection every single day. And though I’ll be the first to support every positive body image mantra, we are all human, and there will be times when we feel down. What matters is how we respond: if we let it consume us, if we dwell, or if we acknowledge that as long as we are making an effort to take care of ourselves, what the mirror displays does not matter.

On Sunday, I had planned for an hour of yoga. But I became distracted by other tasks and other interactions, and I felt like giving myself a break. It was one of those times when the voice popped up, interjecting with words about holiday treats and restaurant meals to come. But I never exercised that day, and you know what? It’s ok.

If I feel like practicing yoga because of a mental craving, as I almost always do, then I will gladly make it a part of my day. But if the motivation comes from another place? I can find another outlet for my energy.

We’re all works in progress, and I am no exception. But I live the way I do because it brings me joy, not due to an obligation to my image. Sometimes, it’s important to remember that.

Why do you exercise? Is vanity a factor?

cannot; will not.

leslie — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 16:24:02 +0000

Warning: I need to complain a little. Apologies in advance.

Yesterday morning, as I was sipping my coffee and thinking about going to yoga class, I found myself not quite in the mood to venture out to the studio. I opened iTunes and began scanning my ever-growing list of podcasts, when I was struck with an impulse I hadn’t had in some time: I felt like going to the gym.

My apartment building is equipped with a small, but very functional gym, so the option was certainly there. I decided I had no reason not to go – I never want to feel as though I have to do yoga simply because it’s what I [gladly] dedicate myself to the majority of the time. Everyone needs to mix it up, on occasion.

positivity: banana oats with cinnamon, ginger, dried figs, cashews, tahini, agave

So I dug out my sneakers, rode the elevator to the roof, and hopped on the elliptical. It was a nice change – zoning out, feeling the beat of louder music from the headphones in my ears. 25 minutes later, I switched over to the treadmill. I took two steps – and I felt a pull behind my right knee. Another step: left knee. It wasn’t pain, but it was enough to know it could get worse. I spent about ten minutes walking with the incline cranked all the way up before I knew I needed to listen to my knees and call it quits.

I like to be more uplifting on the blog, but there isn’t much point in sugarcoating. I was fuming. I’ve been dealing with this injury for ten months. It used to upset me to the point of tears, but this time, I was angry.

more positivity: afternoon finds; total cost of $3

There are a literal million people in the world who have to force themselves to go to the gym each day. People who hate exercise, who dread it, who need trainers or numbers to motivate them. People who simply won’t do it.

In the past, I haven’t always had the healthiest relationship with exercise – but I do now. And while I am so, so content to practice yoga most of the time, I do not like the knowledge that I cannot do anything else. Can’t is not a word I want to face at the age of 24. And yet, here it is.

When I returned to my apartment yesterday, rather than wallow in self-pity, I did two things. I unrolled my yoga mat and spent a good twenty minutes stretching my body in all directions [I know a large factor in my knee problems is muscle tightness]. And I made an appointment with an acupuncture clinic to try yet another method of treatment. Yes, I can walk and I can do yoga. But yesterday proved to me that I am only managing the pain, rather than curing it, and I won’t accept that until I’ve exhausted every option.

and more positivity: le beaujolais est arrivé!

In the meantime, today I have yoga and a coffee date, and yesterday I acquired some beautiful finds for a nice $3. And, my sister and I picked up a bottle of Beaujolais, that wonderful late November treat.

I’ve learned to handle things beyond my control by focusing on the positive. What about you? How do you cope when your mind says yes but your body says no?

in it for life.

leslie — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 15:29:00 +0000

About a month ago, I was enjoying a woodsy walk with my mom, when she made a comment that has stuck with me ever since. [Parents seem to have this way of being natural fountains of wise words.] We were strolling through my hometown’s local trail, better known as “the valley,” a place that has been home to moments ranging from marathon training runs to wedding proposals. It is quiet and scenic, though that isn’t a difficult achievement in much of Connecticut.

My mother and I chatted under the trees, keeping up a brisk pace, warming ourselves with light, but still get-your-blood-flowing movement. Of course, I still have to smile when I walk without pain in my knees, and so, the topic came up in conversation. We mused about possible causes for the mostly reduced pain, and though we discussed the many remedies I tried, I kept coming back to one: yoga.

I bet that’s not a surprise. :)

As I commented that my muscles needed yoga’s stretch to keep the strain of tightness off my knees, as I mentioned that they needed the strength it builds to keep my kneecaps moving properly, as I mentioned that I needed something that made me feel awake, alive, humble, and powerful all at once, my mother said:

“So, I guess you’re in it for life.”

i think i’m into these colorful foods for life, too.

I’ve heard those words every day since she spoke them.

Without sounding too new-agey, I really feel that yoga has been they key factor in healing my injury. Last week, when I suddenly, as though it was completely natural, lifted up into an almost full wheel for the first time, I wondered, “When did this happen? Where did this strength come from?” It didn’t come from physical therapy, medical equipment, or the steroids my doctor failed to convince me to take. It came, quite simply, from a few hours a week on a mat.

I’ve realized when I don’t get enough yoga, my body can tell. It isn’t a feeling of want, the way I might desire the sweat of exercise [though that is always a nice craving, and one I feel often]. Instead, it is a necessity. For me, there is no walking without yoga. There is no climbing stairs. There is no running. There is no dancing. There is no movement. And as a city dweller, without movement, there is no life.

So, while I often say my future is uncertain, when it comes to yoga, I believe in my mother’s words. My body needs it; my mind wants it; and if I’ve come this far in six months, I can only imagine where I’ll be in six years. In it for life sounds perfect to me.

Is there an aspect of your lifestyle that you’re “in for life?” A form of exercise? A style of eating? A career? A relationship?

birthday eve and morn.

leslie — Sat, 24 Oct 2009 13:44:39 +0000

Happy birthday to me!

I tend to shy away from the center of attention, so I’ve never subscribed to the “everyone bow down to my birthday” philosophy. I’m happy to celebrate others’ that way; I’ve just never done it for myself. So, I have to admit that writing a me-centric post feels a bit awkward.

In some ways, a lot has changed for me in the past year, and in others, everything is the same. I suppose life is always like that?

This year, I’m in the midst of a festive weekend, where last year I didn’t – and didn’t want to – do much celebrating at all. And while as much uncertainty exists as last year, I feel much, much more confident that life is mine for the taking. Every year does make us a bit wiser.

How’s that for ambiguity?

My morning began exactly as I wanted:

Someone needs a new yoga mat. Or cleaner feet.

Last night, my sister took me out for wine and dinner at Counter, a 100% organic and vegetarian wine and martini bar in the East Village.

I’ve been meaning to go to Counter for a long time now, as the restaurant basically sums up my philosophy on life. It has a trendy atmosphere but lets you dine; it has an extensive wine list and creative cocktails; its menu showcases local and organic vegetables, changes seasonally, and is designed for sharing.

Doesn’t this menu just make you so, so happy?

I was presented with champagne immediately after arriving [late, as usual] – my sister knows how to handle special occasions.

Sadly, the lighting was really not conducive to photography, but we did share four delicious small plates, including the likes of broccoli raab, sunchokes, endive, pears, eggplant, pomegranate seeds, sweet potato gnocchi, and chestnuts. [Everything was well-seasoned, flavorful, and delicious, except the gnocchi, which were too dense. Disappointing, as I had not eaten gnocchi in years. Years.]

We also split dessert with a candle:

Please excuse the grainy photo. This was a pear semolina cake with chocolate ganache, oatmeal streusel, and vanilla bean ice cream. All their desserts are vegan, and all the ice creams are nut-based. I love.

I would go back to Counter in a minute. I really, really loved it.

Thanks to each and every one of you for sharing in the end of my 23rd year. I’ve got a weekend of calm festivities planned, exactly as I’d like, and I’ll be back with a recap of it all. Enjoy your weekends!

What is something that has changed in the past year of your life?

cautious steps.

leslie — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 15:00:43 +0000

I did something totally crazy yesterday.

laced up the old shoes…

I went for a run.

Running? Who, me?

If you’re newer to the blog, here’s a little backstory: In January, I had just begun training for my first half marathon, when I started to feel an odd sensation in my right knee. New shoes and extra cross training didn’t help, and by February, I couldn’t walk one block without painful scraping behind both my kneecaps. Thus began an eight month journey through two doctors, two physical therapists, countless hours of internet research, very expensive custom orthotic inserts, and more than a few tears. By the end of April, when my attempts to continue running left me nearly unable to walk down stairs, I knew I had to let go.

A month later, I discovered yoga. I started out with just a couple sessions a week, and as I began to fall in love with the practice, I increased that amount. Still, I continued to sweat it out on the elliptical on off days. After returning from vacation in Maine two months ago, where all I had done was morning yoga and oceanfront walks, I quit the gym. I devoted myself to yoga and nothing else, and I felt such peace with that decision.

Then, my knee pain, which I thought would be with me forever, slowly began to fade.

soft run/walk/bike path

About four weeks ago, I was walking to the grocery store (where else?), and I realized I felt nothing in my knees. The following day – nothing.

I did some tests. I went on longer walks. I tried walking with my orthotics. I tried walking without them. I tried soft surfaces. I tried concrete. I danced in heels at my best friend’s wedding, jumping and spinning to the cheesiest classics, “Shout” and “Cotton-eyed Joe.” I even ran barefoot on the beach for pictures.

Every morning, I expected to wake up in pain. And every morning, I felt nothing.

So yesterday, I chose to do an experiment. I went for a run.

Why am I posting a makeup-less pre-run self portrait? I was excited, I suppose.

It was a short run, and I alternated running and walking to keep it gentle on the knees. But the length, speed, distance, timing – all of it is irrelevant [and I didn't wear a watch or HRM, so I don't even know the details]. Only two things matter: One, I woke up this morning without any pain.

Two, running again felt like coming home. The breeze, the scenery, the movement through the outdoors. The only thing I feel is missing from yoga is fresh air.

I don’t know have any idea where this will take me. Tomorrow morning, I will happily be doing a seventy-five minute Ashtanga podcast. But in a few days, perhaps I’ll go for another run. And we’ll see.

Do you have an injury-recovery story? Are you dealing with one currently? Tell me the details; I can sympathize.

catcalls and cupcakes.

leslie — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 15:02:50 +0000

As I was leaving yoga class this morning, no doubt red-faced, smelly, and in my scrubbiest clothes [am I painting a nice picture?], I passed a man collecting money for the homeless [New Yorkers, you know the ones, with the empty Poland Spring tubs for cash and coins]. Typically, these representatives shout out predictable lines, asking for a penny or a dime, reminding us that no donation is too small. This morning, strolling by in my sneakers, mat on my shoulder, I instead received a catcall of sorts. ”Oh, oh, look: somebody’s staying healthy! Have a nice day!”

I didn’t acknowledge the comment – ignoring everyone is a way of life in this city. Yesterday, for instance, I ignored a Hassidic rabbi who asked me to shake a lulav (a Jewish tradition this time of year), a woman in Chinatown asking me to purchase a faux designer purse (horror), and two different people from Children International. It’s a crowded city, and we’re all in a rush.

post-yoga breakfast: oats, hemp milk, cinnamon, two baby plums, almonds, agave brazil nut butter

But while my actions brushed off the comment, the words echoed in my head throughout my journey home. Health is such a habit for me, that I often forget I have a choice. When my alarm rang before the sun came up this morning, I chose to put on my yoga clothes, step out into the darkness, and start my day with some movement. I chose to assemble the wholesome breakfast that awaited me after class. I chose to prep a variety of of vegetables for my lunch. It helps that I enjoy all these things, but nonetheless, it is still a choice.

Yesterday, I met two wonderful bloggers, Katie and Ellie, at Babycakes, a vegan bakery on the Lower East Side. I had a delightful mid-afternoon cupcake, the special of the day. Chatting with the ladies on a bench down the street, I had a sugary afternoon snack, because I know now that health is all about the give and take.

babycakes’ vanilla cupcake with chocolate-fig ganache

Maybe I had dessert before dinner, but as an adult who always eats her vegetables, that was a choice with which I was comfortable. Plus, I walked to and from the bakery, because I’ve had nearly no knee pain in three weeks, and I am relishing in my ability to be an active walker once again.

Sometimes, it’s important to take a step back and remember that living in a healthy manner is something to be proud of. No one forces me to stay active, to eat whole foods, to seek out vegan options, to get enough sleep. I do it because I want to, and because I choose to. Thanks to this morning’s catcaller for the reminder.

Tell me about a healthy choice you’ve made this week. And pat yourself on the back for it.

taking it easy.

leslie — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 15:00:36 +0000

A few days ago, during one of my morning yoga sessions, I was having a lot of trouble staying centered. Who knows the cause – tiredness, early AM tightness, or simply one of those “off” days. Regardless, I was frustrated; I couldn’t seem to balance in half the poses in which I usually can, and my annoyance with myself put quite the damper on one of my favorite hours of the day.

As I showered afterward, I attempted to uncover the reason beneath my shakiness that morning. I hadn’t been overdoing it. I hadn’t been undereating. Those used to be the go-to culprits for less than stellar exercise sessions.

And then it occurred to me: when was the last time I did an easy yoga class? It took some thought to remember, and I realized I might have found the root of the problem.

Back when I ran, I was always guilty of pushing myself too hard. I wanted new distances and new times. If I accomplished one, I could do one better. I rarely went out and just ran – slowly, calmly, with focus on form. And I ended up seriously injured.

As a lifelong perfectionist, I have, and most likely always will, be on a quest for self-improvement. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing – goals certainly keep life from becoming mundane and repetitive. But constantly driving ourselves forward can make it very easy to forget where we came from.

my basics

I try to stress that healthy living is all about balance. That philosophy applies to every aspect of my life – balancing the foods I enjoy with the real world, balancing exercise with what is right for my body, balancing excess with moderation, balancing dreams with reality.

My yoga has slowly been becoming unbalanced, with too much of a focus on intensity and not enough on the fundamentals. But as long as I remember to follow my own advice, returning to the basics always grounds and refocuses me. Maybe that means laying out a classic, balanced meal. Maybe it means forgoing the more complex recipes of the season in favor of a very basic plate. Perhaps it means reading a less intelligent novel after studying a semester of philosophers.

So, learning from experience, I’ve instituted a new guideline for myself: one day a week, I’ll do a gentle, basic yoga class. I’ll take the time on my mat to focus on the foundation of the practice – the breathing, the stretching, the balance – rather than the sweat and the flow. I’ll take it easy, while still achieving the mental and physical rewards of practicing. I have a feeling that many benefits await me.

Do you struggle to take it easy? How do you get back to basics? [Are you as pained by the double use of clichés as I am? :)]