The year is 1998. I’m taking a day off from work to take a yoga class at Crunch gym, with a teacher whom I’ve never met. Her class differs from any I’ve taken previously; full of friendliness, wit, humor; she’s even offering individual cues using our names—the mirrored workout room is transformed into a proper shala within minutes.
At the end of the class, the teacher, Cyndi Lee, tells me that she’s starting a new studio, and taking applications for a teacher training. Within a few days I craft a collection of tiny art pieces—drawn, painted, collaged and sewn—to answer the application questions; she accepts me as student. I’ve no idea what’s to happen. My mom isn’t super encouraging, but I’m paying for it and it feels true to my heart.
During that era, 14th Street in New York City is dicey after sundown, but I become a student in Cyndi’s teacher training, her first in her new studio, Om Yoga, so I learn to navigate the neighborhood with alertness. My first time teaching, I’m staring out the window of the studio, too nervous to look at my fellow students, just calling out instructions. Cyndi is kind but firm in her feedback, and I’ll learn to look, to listen, to attune to myself and those in the room, under her tutelage.
Soon I’ll meet some of my most treasured friends there, Christy, Athena, Pati, countless future colleagues. I’ll never be the same once I start teaching in earnest, bringing in poetry and whatever my early-thirties heart needed to keep healing.
Cyndi’s new book, published by Chronicle Books, Long Life Yoga, is now a key resource in my own practice; honored to share her work with you here.
Cyndi writes DRIP, DRIP, DRIP here on Substack.
Find more from Cyndi at https://www.cyndilee.com/
Cyndi’s teaching schedule: https://www.cyndilee.com/classes-trainings
Books: https://www.cyndilee.com/books-by-cyndi
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/cyndisphere/
And thank you Florence Acosta, Jackie Hutchings, Suzanne Dokes, and many others for tuning into our live. Join me for my next live video in the app.
