I listened to some old Madonna from the Ray of Light days today while running (and never fear, those of you tracking my terrible taste in music: Supertramp, Tina Turner, and Jesus Christ Superstar were rocking my world too). Reminded me of the years-ago yoga trip to Feathered Pipe Ranch in August 2000. It was an extraordinary week – the photo above didn’t survive very well but I still recall in my mind the view from the studio as I held pose after pose. We were a small group, and Baron and Rolf were pre-celebrity (at least what they are now) and were very much a part of the week. There were hours and hours of yoga – incredible sweat – long holds and lots of tears. We walked in the Montana hills every morning and ate surpisingly wonderful food. I stayed in a yurt and frequently walked out in the morning to see quiet deer wandering around. I’ve not had success with meditation, generally, but I felt closer to stillness this week than I have at almost any other time. I also felt like my body had been run over by a truck – I remember on day 3 that every single inch of me ached; even child’s pose hurt like hell.