Starstruck. What does it feel like to sign a decade-long project of vision, journeys, gritty art—finally bound, polished, gleaming? On an icy winter night, two of my favorite yogi communities, Pure Yoga East and Tanya-B, co-hosted a full-body fêtê celebrating the launch of Michael O'neill's stop you in your tracks, sense riot of a book 'Yoga: The Architecture of Peace.' Can't buy that light in the eyes. Or the truth bomb his teacher Siri Sat Kaur dropped mid-vinyasa: guru means 'the heavy one.' The woman, the man of great weight. Yes, please.
I am a hedonist when it comes to fitness, food, and my city. I work out because I love the feeling: power, endorphins, productive pain. I see movement as celebration and therapy, and food as art and love. New York City chants along generously to this kind of hedonism. There’s an energy on this island that unites body, mind, and spirit at a brilliant pulse. Here are some stories from that rhythm.