by Hilary Lindsay | Mar 28, 2022 | Asana, nashville yoga, Social Commentary, Yoga, yoga class, yoga teacher, yoga teaching
I have less than an hour to get through to a group of college students. They are not consistent here at Vanderbilt. There’s no way to deepen a practice when every yoga class has to be an experience for new beginners. A journalist checklist creates a strong foundation...
by Hilary Lindsay | Jun 26, 2018 | Healthy Living, medical yoga, Meditation, nashville yoga, Nature, Physiology, Pranayama, Social Commentary, society, therapeutic yoga, Tradition, Yoga, yoga class, Yoga Philosophy, Yoga psychology, yoga teacher, yoga teaching
You are human and you think about the future. The future is a mystery that is scary. We are wired for danger. We are born for stress. It’s how we survived as a species. Now it seems to be killing some of us. People tell you to live in the moment. What does that...
by Hilary Lindsay | Jul 21, 2015 | nashville yoga, Tradition, Yoga, yoga class, yoga community, Yoga History, Yoga Philosophy, Yoga psychology, yoga teacher, yoga teaching
Before you take those hands to your heart…… Namaste is the yoga student’s salutation that allows our similarity below the surface. We feel beneath our skin and say we recognize you beneath yours. Here we share DNA that makes us kin. It is a...
by Hilary Lindsay | Jan 15, 2015 | Asana, Meditation, nashville yoga, Nature, Poetry, Prose, society, Tradition, Yoga, yoga class, Yoga History, Yoga Philosophy, yoga teacher, yoga teaching
It exploded from comets To begin as the oceans, And borders of seas, Becoming the vapor, the clouds and the rain, And one with the earth, Becoming the rivers, the lakes, and the streams, To become most of me, I breathed it out to become part of...
by Hilary Lindsay | Nov 13, 2008 | Ethics, Family, nashville yoga, Nature, Prose, Religion, society, Tradition, Yoga, Yoga and Religion, yoga class, yoga community, Yoga psychology, yoga teacher, yoga teaching
We Are Our Stories “Oh the hands of my mother watch and keep over me And the hands of my grandmother are the hands you see on me From the house of great grandfather rivers run down to the sea And my sister’s mother’s husband’s father’s grandchild is me Don’t...
