It is via the spiritual path of yoga that I arrived to Paris, albeit indirectly. Hence, it will continue to be an integral part of my journey. But in French? Surely yoga needs no translation. This worried me, as my French was not yet as advanced to include body parts and movements. With much research and a fair amount of good fortune, I discovered a suitable yoga studio several cobbled streets away, the Centre de Yoga du Marais. As though sent by the yoga gods, my teacher is American, from NYC no less. Her energy is warm and welcoming. Immediately I feel well. For ninety minutes I am at home. The clatter of a foreign world ceases to exist. I am momentarily living and very deeply breathing, familiarity.

Upon leaving this sanctuary, I am filled with vigor and an enlightened perspective. The challenges ahead seem much more attainable. I float homewards and smile at the life that has been granted me.