Under the Banyan Tree

At 9, I wanted to be a painter, and at 10, an actress. By 16, my aspirations had shifted and I believed I could best contribute to my community by becoming a communist. Just kidding -- I wanted to be a social worker. At 16 1/2, after a conversation with my then brother-in-law during which he counseled me against the profession and did, honestly, cause me to reflect on what I truly wanted, that goal changed as well: I would study law -- fascinating, logical, respected -- and focus on family law, children's welfare. Through the judicial system, I would assist those in need. Then I went to college. And while not everything changed, everything changed. I entered studying English because succeeding in high school English classes hadn't required much effort and English seemed a solid major for a pre-law student. I had earlier disavowed math (a long, unfortunate story) so chose to study foreign language at BYU as a way of bypassing college mathematics and fulfilling a GE requirement

I recently discovered the greatest activity in Silicon Valley, which is neither spin class at a boutique gym or happy hour after a strenuous day of programming or analyzing or otherwise engaging in technology-centric activities; it’s chill yoga, no joke. Chill yoga inspires, relaxes, and stretches adherents physically and metaphorically. No stationary bicycle or cocktail of the month can do that. I've been drawn to yoga for years. My down dog I now consider above average, and my warrior one appears simultaneously powerful and sleek. But I'm not adept at spending 60 minutes beautifully flowing from asana to asana because yoga, let's face it, is tough. I've tried to practice regularly but have easily found excuses to postpone the workout -- I'm a mom with a nearly full time job and so many essays to evaluate that even God feels sorry for me and wonders if He made a mistake when creating the desire to be an underpaid English professor. So I buy yoga mats in multiple