The place that I call Ohm.
Reaching back into my memory bin of a time before my shirt was stained with spit up and my breasts rested higher upon my sternum, I pull out collections of various times that have become unfamiliar. I enjoy reliving some of them, and others get tossed into the depths with hope that they will never return to me. I have a fond attachment to the times when I would take three yoga classes scattered around my work day. The lifestyle had started changing me for the better. I was developing a sense of awareness and gratitude for the things most people take for granted. I had acquired a sense of community within myself, even if nobody else was around. And when others were near, we were fully brought together with the opening and closing sound of Ohm surrounding our joint practice and experience. Fast forward to my life today, a little over a year later. My community is no longer petite girls in tight spandex pants with prayer beads wrapped delicately around their wrists. Instead, I ...