Man, I wish I still lived in NYC! I would have loved to have taken this class. (Even without Stewart’s apron wear-inspiring presence) Because if you can relax amidst the choas of Grand Central Terminal, then you have surely reached a new height in your yoga practice.
The blogger who wrote about the recent class made some pretty insightful observations, even going so far as to clarify that it was not Stewart who led the class (I almost choked on my wheat grass shot thinking of what it would be like to have the queen of perfection teach yoga), but her long-standing instuctor, James Murphy. No, not this JM (although I’m sure the play list for that yoga class would be sick!):
Don’t get me wrong. I heart Martha, too. She’s an inspiration to women everywhere. But my favorite part about the whole thing? That the blogger (cleverly?) noted that Stewart (via a Freudian slip?) remarked that whoever set the schedule for the day “should be shot.” And when I think about yoga in a crazy setting like NYC’s Grand Central Terminal, I can only think that no one would probably even flinch at the mere happenstance of the execution of such an order. Especially if they were able to get right into the yoga zone on their mat.
Note to the blogger: are you sure those “specks of dirt that kept appearing” on your mat weren’t actually crawling around while you breathed in Down Dog? You might want to burn that mat and start fresh. Just one friendly piece of advice from one (former) New Yorker to another.