Tag Archives: imported

Gratitude

My son is snuggled up in bed, snoozing while cuddling up with his dad under our warm down duvet. Little guy turned ten months yesterday. We spent a couple hours with friends at the park by the river, watching the sun set behind the New Orleans skyline, passing around the frisbee, and dancing to electronica…. Read More

Don’t Call Me A Yogi

In my line of work (teaching yoga), it isn’t politically correct to want to make any significant kind of money. It’s difficult to have honest and open conversations about the subject because there is an air of nobility around poverty (or close to it). Just like nuns or monks, a “real” yogi (can’t believe I… Read More