Leralara

When I lived in New York City, one of the best experiences played out in an apartment in Manhattan lower east side, where a beautiful and charismatic yogi, by the name of Dina, instructed a small gathering friends on the finer points of Ashtanga Yoga.

These stolen moments were a refuge from the madness, which is living in New York City. Without summoning, the memory comes to me. The quiet, dimly lit apartment, with its candlelight, its aroma of nag champa, and the elusive cat who co-owned the place alongside my friend Dina. 

Not only did my experience result in a fitter, more energetic manifestation of myself, it perfectly insulated the mental refuge I had been building over a lifetime— such as mentioned in “Desiderata”, by Max Erman.

A life time of ups and downs, high volleys, high fiveable moments, followed by perilous terror inducing scenarios of varying degree, had reinforced the value of inner solitude- of crafting such a shelter for such times of sudden misfortune.

It was a class that produced the kind of sweat so profuse it ceased having any odor. I emerged cleansed, renewed, reborn and equipped with the fortitude to exist in the beloved urban chaos which surrounded me at all times. What an unequivocal gift given by a talented yogi- star of New York City, my friend, Dina Dillon Castagnini.