I realize the purpose of yoga is to quiet the mind and soul, but I own one of those spider webbed minds of anxiety that lacks the dexterity to let thoughts be. Instead of focusing on my downward dog, my thoughts ping around like a pigeon stuck in a subway station. After climbing five flights of stairs in a maze like stack of slender corridors that inspire feelings of despair in never seeing daylight again, I arrived at a light-filled loft overlooking San Francisco. These are the thoughts loitering in
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