I am in downward facing dog on a mat in the yoga studio at Holsome Holistic Center on Witherspoon Street. The year is 2005. I am not here because I think it will make me feel at one with all living creatures in the universe. I’m here because a friend had given me a gift certificate for two yoga classes, and I had read an article in Conde Nast Traveler written by a woman who pursued yoga all over the world for one specific reason: to get what industry insiders call the yoga butt — sculpted as if by Caravaggio, high and smooth, with curves in all the right places — the kind of ass so beautiful you just want to be alone with it.
Class begins, and Susan Sprecher, the instructor, says, “This is a good time to set your intention for class; you might want to dedicate your practice to someone who needs your good energy,” I say to myself, “Nah. My intention is to get a good yoga butt.” Little did I know that, after six years of practicing yoga, what I would get would be something much more significant, a real game changer.
But for the moment, a great ass seems as good a place as any to start. (I later learn that Lululemon Athletica, 36 Nassau Street, which offers free yoga classes Sunday mornings at 9 a.m., sells an item called the Groove Pant, the yoga equivalent of a Victoria’s Secret Wonderbra; like a miracle straight from the divine, these $98 pants never wear out and will give you a yoga butt instantly.)
Downward facing dog looks like it sounds — hands out flat, head down, back slightly arched, and butt (sitz bones, actually) high in the air. It looks simple but it isn’t. You have to pull your abs up and in, and plant your hands the right distance in front of you, spread your fingers like a starfish, and your place your feet hips’ width apart, toes turned ever so slightly in. As a beginner your heels are unlikely to touch the floor, and that’s OK. In fact, in yoga, as in life (more on that later) the most important thing to remember is that everything is already OK. Like the Buddhist nun Pema Chodron says, start where you are.
The first time you do downward facing dog, the central pose of any yoga practice, you feel, well, ridiculous. It’s just not a position you’re used to, like, hey, here I am taking a nice walk in the park, I think this would be a good time to just drop down and stick my butt in the air. And no matter how strong you think you are from all those free weights and lat pull-downs at the gym, you will be surprised at what a challenge it is on your arms. “Breathe in through your nose, and out through your nose,” says Sprecher. “Focus on your breath. Focus on the present moment, just you on your mat.”
I want to be present, I really do. But I’m so bad at that. I breathe in and secretly think, how many classes will it take, really, before I have a yoga butt? 10? 50? As I feel my feet slipping, and I look at my fingers to see if they look like starfish, my mind spikes into action: did I text my husband to get that kind of cereal at Sam’s, sounds like scrunch crunch but not the kind with raisins? God, that woman two mats in front of me already has a beautiful yoga butt. Why was my mother so weird on the phone last night? That tone. “Well,” she says, “do you want to be angry at your son for the next eight years until he goes to college?”
This is what yogis call monkey mind, and it’s totally normal. (A yogi is anyone who practices yoga.) The goal (or effort, since everything in yoga is about the journey, not the destination) is to consider your mind the sky and your thoughts like clouds passing by: you acknowledge them and then let them go. How to do this is yoga’s million-dollar question. I try to suck my abs in and up and exhale without sticking the abs back. Abs do not obey my orders. Monkey mind goes into overdrive: I know what I can bring to that party on Saturday, that seven layer dip my friend Ginny makes. But what are the seven layers? I start counting: refried beans, salsa, sour cream with taco mix, grated cheese, guacamole, chopped olives.
Guy next to me is breathing way too loudly, like labored breathing. Sounds icky. Out of my peripheral vision I see he looks really out of shape. Heart Attack Guy. Keeps his socks on. What a dork. Eww, what if he really does have a heart attack? I wonder if Wegman’s has ripe avocados. Or if I buy them today will they be ripe by Saturday? Wait, that’s only six layers. Chopped onions. Seven. I am two poses behind everyone else but remarkably no one seems to notice.
As class progresses, I am still plagued by random thoughts, but I hang in there and find that while some poses are very challenging, OK, impossible, others I can do just fine, and I am strong enough to make it all the way through class, though sweating bullets.
I like the way so many of the poses have an animal name: crow, fish, frog, camel, pigeon. I attempt crow, squatting forward with my hands on the floor and pressing my knees against my elbows, which I execute with the grace of the girl who gets picked last in seventh grade gym class. Breathe. I think I really could be in harmony with the universe as long as I don’t smack my forehead on the ground and knock myself out. Other poses are self-explanatory: triangle, warrior, dancer, child’s pose, bridge, happy baby (also known as dead bug). I think they’ve left out some poses: unhappy baby whose parents take him to 10 p.m. R-rated movie; wedgie while you’re giving a presentation.
Despite my monkey mind and my pathological fear of being upside down, there is an aura in here that works its way into me, without my realizing it at all. By the time we reach the end of class, and close with shavasana, or corpse pose, I lie on my mat, with my eyes closed, and I am totally relaxed. It is said that shavasana is actually the most difficult yoga pose, because it requires a quiet mind, something that’s very difficult for most westerners.
Sprecher turns out the lights, and walks lightly in between the mats. I can hear her gentle footsteps, as if walking on grass. I hear the heat come on, a little crackle through the vent. I breathe in the waxy smell from the votive candles Sprecher has arranged along the walls. I actually feel my chest rise and fall as I breathe. I never knew it did that. I drop down into a layer of quiet I have never experienced. I breathe in, and I breathe out, and I hear everyone else breathing in and breathing out too. I’m hardly thinking about the avocado at all.
Then Sprecher begins to read quietly from a commencement address Anna Quindlen has given many times. “Get a life. A real life, not a manic pursuit of the next promotion, the bigger paycheck, the larger house. Do you think you’d care so very much about those things if you blew an aneurysm one afternoon or found a lump in your breast?” All of a sudden, I feel tears pouring out of my closed eyes. Big fat tears, like toddlers have, the kind you can’t blink away or swipe surreptitiously. What is going on here, and what will I do when the lights come on? I will be so embarrassed. The lights come on. I sit up and pretend to look at my toes as if they are outrageously fascinating. Out of my peripheral vision I see everyone rolling up their mats. How am I going to get out of here? I refuse to look up. I just sit there.
Then, I see Sprecher walking towards me. Jeez oh man. I am mortified. The tears just keep spilling out of my eyes. I sit hunched over staring at the floor, hoping, like a teenager, that it will open up, swallow me, and transport me, Star Trek style, straight out of there to Wegman’s. I feel sure they will have ripe avocados.
Sprecher simply sits down next to me and, looking straight ahead, not even at me, says quietly, “You know, I took a yoga class in New York City the day after 9/11. And at the end of that class, I couldn’t stop crying. I just cried and cried. It was crazy.” She put her arm around me and said, “Yoga does that. It just brings all the stuff out. Thank you for coming to my class today. You have a really nice practice.”
Needless to say, I came back. I asked Sprecher — who now has her own studio at 23 Orchard Road in Skillman and also teaches Friday mornings at Yogasphere in Newtown, PA — to describe the intangible dichotomy that is yoga: a great physical workout that also does extraordinary things for the mind and spirit.
“Yoga is an inner journey that takes you along the path of what you have to offer yourself, the world, and the people around you. And not just our world today: yoga is 6,000 years old. Our world is so busy in our heads,” says Sprecher. “We’re so involved with the voice of our ego that tells you what you should have done — every criticism you ever heard from your teachers, parents, friends. We hear all that and keep it in our heads, and it creates a lot of noise, it drives us insane. The other voice is the voice of vanity. It is cruel. Part of our inner journey is to quiet the mind and all this noise.
“The journey is towards knowing ourselves, seeing what we want to do with our lives, and experiencing the beauty around us. We’re so bogged down with the stuff, we miss the beauty of where we are, whether we’re a young mother or at the top of our career,” Sprecher continues. “People come to yoga for all kinds of reasons. People who are strong are really tight, so they might come to yoga to become more flexible. They’ll say, ‘I’m not interested in that spiritual crap.’ But I believe yoga has an element of magic. It doesn’t give you what you were looking for; it gives you what you needed. It seeps in like magic. I left the very first class I ever took, and it confirmed that I wasn’t at all flexible but I felt like an angel, so relaxed. I said, ‘This is who I am.’ It was the spiritual crap that got me in that very first class.
“If you’re a beginner, don’t think that just because you play a mean game of golf or tennis you can take an advanced yoga class. Take a beginner class. It will tell you why you’re there, and you’ll be guaranteed to love it. You have to be in a class that lets you put your ego aside,” Sprecher says. “The key to yoga is not each class but consistency. When I come onto my yoga mat, it’s like someone flipped a switch, and my nervous system calms down. I’ve walked into class plenty of times grappling with a big problem. Part of my challenge is to not let myself get caught up with the irritating things.”
Sprecher explains that a vinyasa class, also called a flow class, can be very cathartic, especially for working professionals. “If you’re living a very active life, you’ve got a job and family, sometimes when you’re more active you need a class to squeeze you like a rag so at the end you can finally relax. We hold everything we ever accepted or rejected in our tissues. Vinyasa wrings it out. It brings up the energy of the body, it burns off whatever it needs to burn off — the tension of the day, anxiety in the body, the stuff we hold in our tissues. The class helps wring that out so you can lie down and be still, and feel really amazing.
“The things you confront on your mat are a microcosm of life and the world outside is the macrocosm. In any yoga class things will come at you that will be challenging to your flexibility, your strength, or your willingness to remain in a pose. We all confront discomfort, that’s part of the practice. Confronting discomfort forces us to change, to grow. There are many things in life that make you uncomfortable, but you breathe and stay. We all need courage on our path. Yoga nurtures courage.”
She refers to taking yoga “off the mat.” “Maybe you’re on the phone with your mom, and she’s really irritating, but maybe she needs to talk to you, and you won’t have her forever. Yoga brings a sweetness into your life when we accept that not everything is about immediate gratification. There are things that scare you in class, and that’s OK; you need to stay a little past that comfort zone. How you deal with that person next to you in class who you might find annoying, or that hard pose — a yoga class is a safe place to practice the harder world outside. It is a sheltered, safe place to practice your life. Hopefully all of us come off our mat, and it makes us a better person.”
In addition to her group classes, Sprecher has several private yoga clients. Twice a week, she goes to the home of Bill Leventon of Princeton, a financial advisor with Oppenheimer & Co. She goes in the afternoon, while the stock market is still open. Leventon steps onto his mat, and one of his goals, says Sprecher, is not to let her know whether he’s having a good day or a bad day in the market. “We just go straight to the practice. He is separate from what’s happening (in the market). He says his yoga practice has helped him maintain the equanimity to work in today’s financial world, and that yoga helps him physically, mentally, and emotionally.”
Other private clients include Jeanne and Stuart Altman, both Princeton biology professors who travel to Kenya for weeks at a time to study baboons. Sprecher started teaching Jeanne, then Stuart, 80, joined in. “Jeanne has a yoga mat she keeps at her office,” says Sprecher. “When possible she does a few poses to stretch her back, shoulders, and neck.”
Once a week Sprecher goes to Hopewell to teach a whole family: Lisa and Mark Tobias own Tobias Design, a cabinetry firm; they have three children, two of whom are in college but come home on vacations. “It’s a time to work on physical things, but also creating that very calm yoga quality into their evening. It’s something they can all do together and end up in the same place.”
Also in Hopewell Sprecher teaches Robin McConaughy, who with her husband Jon, an ex-Wall Street executive, have started Double Brook Farm, a sustainable farm with cattle, chickens, and produce, with the goal of using only energy from the sun and earth, and a minimal carbon footprint. “She’s very busy running the farm, doing the PR,” says Sprecher. “But on Friday mornings we have a private class, and she invites any of her friends who may be available. Like clockwork, at the end of shavasana, there’s a rooster who crows. After class, I get a dozen organic eggs.”
David Campeas, president and CEO of PrincetonOne, a recruitment services provider, has offices at 23 Orchard Road, where Sprecher’s studio is located (though once you’re in the studio it feels like you’re in a totally separate space), and takes private classes with her there. “He travels all the time so for him to get a practice it has to be on his schedule,” says Sprecher. “He’s a golfer and is using yoga to address his back issues. He has been doing a few yoga shoulder openers before a golf game and says it helps his game and the way he feels after.”
Tatiana Popova, director of operations at Advance Funding, a payroll funding services firm at One Palmer Square, takes Sprecher’s weekend class in Skillman and can walk to lunchtime classes at Yoga Above at 80 Nassau Street and Holsome. Her teachers include Linda Domino, Andrea Mecquel (who just goes by Mecquel), and Michele Mosner. “Physically yoga has taught me that you can be stronger and more flexible in your 30s and 40s than in your 20s,” says Popova. “Emotionally I get the benefit of being able to breathe through tough moments in my life, just as I breathe through challenging moments in my yoga practice, knowing it will end, sooner or later. Mentally yoga makes me more balanced as I go through the ups and downs of life. Spiritually my mat is the place for me to send good wishes out into the universe for people who need them that particular day.”
Sprecher can relate to working professionals. She used to be one. The daughter of artists who are still painting and exhibiting their work, she grew up in Cheltenham, a suburb of Philadelphia. Her father owned an advertising agency in Jenkintown, which Sprecher joined as a graphic artist and associate creative director after graduating from Tyler Art School in Philadelphia in 1984. When her husband, a project manager in the pharmaceutical industry, got a job at Schering Plough near Edison, they moved to Hunterdon County.
Sprecher continued to commute to an agency in Horsham, PA, and started freelancing in the Princeton area. She says she worked as hard as her husband and that her two daughters “were the first to be dropped off at preschool and the last ones picked up from aftercare. I didn’t have a housekeeper. I did all the cooking. I have a lot of energy but I was exhausted. I devoted my entire weekend on house stuff and the garden. I never went to school parties. It really caught up with me.
“I hit a turning point where I felt my life had gotten away from who I was, and I wanted to be more authentic.” Sprecher, who is now divorced, started taking yoga classes and in 1999 attended a yoga conference in Florida with world-renowned yoga educator and author Baron Baptiste.
“He talked about letting down the mask of who you are. He said what I needed to hear when I needed to hear it.” She trained with Baptiste in Mexico and with Joanne Carter at Simply Yoga in Kingston. She continues to train at least three times a year. “I feel like you never stop growing until you die, but sometimes the way you grow is relearning what you already know.”
Gemma Farrell, who teaches at Holsome, also came to yoga after a corporate career. An only child who grew up in Flemington, the daughter of a J&J executive and a nurse, Farrell graduated from Dartmouth in 1986 with a major in political science. She moved to Manhattan, joined Goldman Sachs, and dove straight into leveraged buyouts. She segued into marketing and joined Foote Cone and Belding, then hatched her own magazine startup. After a hiatus during which she traveled for a few years through China and Southeast Asia and became fluent in Chinese, she returned to New York and joined McGraw Hill, where she met her husband, Jack, who worked in the medical publishing division. They married in 1996.
Eager to start a family, the couple, who are Catholic, moved to Plainsboro, where Jack started his own recruiting firm, Jack Farrell Associates, and Gemma had five children — now 9, 10, 11, 13, and 15, three boys and two girls — and home-schooled all of them until last year. Four of them now attend the Wilberforce School.
Farrell says she started taking yoga in New York, but here she mostly practiced at home and then began taking classes at Yoga Above and Simply Yoga in Kingston. “When I do yoga it’s not to be stronger or look better, it’s being able to turn inward and get to know yourself. Like a shortcut to self-discovery, you can go in pretty deep pretty fast.”
Farrell says she has always had a meditation practice and that adding in yoga is “a powerful combination. I wanted to understand myself better but also I wanted to cultivate qualities that are important — compassion, generosity, patience, understanding, gratitude. It doesn’t just happen; you need to apply yourself.” In fact, learning to cultivate gratitude is so central to Farrell’s practice, her website is www.gratitudeyoga.org
When Simply Yoga owner Joanne Carter announced she was going to move out west, she encouraged Farrell to take the last teacher training she was going to offer. “I felt like it was a time in my life when I could fit in more yoga, a chance to be a little more committed. Joanne said, ‘I think you’re called to do this.’”
The training was manageable for Farrell: one Saturday a month for four hours for a year. “People say to me all the time, ‘oh, five children, good luck with that, hope you keep your sanity.’ But that’s not how it is. I have a beautiful, amazing life. My children are the source of so much joy. I never ever see them as a burden.”
She says yoga is not only a great workout for your body — “everything you do is a combination of strength and flexibility, it’s a lot of core strength, and it’s great for circulation and the lymphatic system” — it’s a great choice for people with careers and families.
“Maybe you belong to a gym or maybe you play tennis; that’s a lot of arranging. The nice thing about yoga is you can do it at home or show up for a class. You don’t have to belong to the whole scene at the gym. And there’s so much variety. As you evolve in your practice it can meet you where you are, you can find more challenging classes. If you want to back off there are gentle yoga classes. It’s very convenient to our lifestyle without a lot of financial outlay.” Farrell’s classes are by donation only, a tradition Yoga Above owner Michael Cremone started a few years ago.
She began to teach at Yoga Above in April, 2010, and had two people in her 6 a.m. class. Then she added a few classes and within a month her classes were pulling in 45 to 50 people.
Dan Bauer, director of public and community relations at McCarter Theater, was one of those two people in her first class, and continues to study with her. “Yoga is a ritual like my morning coffee at Small World,” he says. “It’s where I let go of everything but the present moment; where I find inspiration. Yoga allows me to push myself and laugh when I fall; halt the aging process; and share in a common experience with a room full of like-minded individuals as we breathe together, sweat together, and collectively find serenity and peace.” In addition to Farrell, he takes class with Michael Cremone, Annie Isaacson, and John Frank at Yoga Above.
Something started to happen in Farrell’s classes that she swears has nothing to do with her, though her students, like Bauer, beg to differ. “I teach a level of yoga that is in between — not power yoga, not gentle yoga — it embraces a lot of different levels,” says Farrell. “What started to happen is that people connected with one another in the class. There was a sense of compassion in the room that doesn’t have to do with me but comes from the students.”
She started teaching at Holsome on Wednesday, February 23, of this year. She remembers the date for a reason. “I walked into Holsome, a block away from Yoga Above, and asked owner Paul Shu if I could teach there. He said yes and, remarkably, asked if I could start that same night. I made some calls and sent out an E-mail to my students. Thirty-nine people showed up to that first class. It’s beyond me. What is the likelihood of that happening, at that exact time, just a block down the street? I believe everything happens for a reason.” She now teaches five classes a week at Holsome, and they are packed.
Danielle Coppola, 44, director and clinical leader with J&J in Titusville, takes yoga three times a week at a class offered at work and takes Farrell’s classes on weekends. “Yoga is as much a spiritual practice as it can be an intensely physical practice. I used to be a die-hard for step aerobics. What I realized is that the physical aspect of yoga is maximized by the spiritual aspect and vice versa. The intensity of the practice is entirely yours for the choosing and can be extremely rigorous or wonderfully relaxing. Either way it engages and energizes the mind and the body all at once. It improves posture, balance, muscle tone, flexibility, and a sense of well-being. It also teaches self-awareness, patience, and perseverance — all of critical importance in the workplace.”
Sherenne Simon, a Princeton resident who commutes to Manhattan as a public health consultant at Rabin Martin at Rabin Martin, a global management consultancy in the health field, has practiced yoga for seven years and takes Farrell’s class twice a week. “Born and bred as a traditional east coaster, productivity is my best friend and worst enemy. It is easy to get caught up doing, succeeding, and achieving — until you get to a point where you realize you have achieved everything, and left yourself behind. Yoga forces me to pause, and the physical, personal, and spiritual elements in my life have the opportunity to begin to sort themselves out. You may be surprised what you learn about yourself in a 60-minute yoga class where your only task is to be present, breathe, and press pause on your life.”
At the beginning of a recent class Farrell said, “You come to the mat with what I call the Three Arrivals. You arrive with your body — you have gotten yourself here. You arrive with your breath — and you start to focus on your breath. And you arrive with your mind — you say, ‘I have arrived. I have stopped running.’” Giving someone permission and a place to “stop running” is a very powerful concept to the typical working person who does nothing but run all the time. She then said, “For your intention for class today, think of someone else’s happiness. That’s how we build compassion.”
Think that’s a little woo-woo or just a woman thing? Think again. A quarter to a third of Farrell’s students are men, and that number is growing. “Every man who comes to yoga says that it’s so much harder than they expected it to be, that it’s more challenging than anything they have done. That’s partly what keeps them coming back,” says Farrell. “Professional men may come with their wife or they heard about yoga from a friend. (Some of these men) can’t play basketball, for example, anymore; this is a form of exercise they can do. They worry they’re not flexible but I tell them there’s a lot they can get out of the class before their flexibility increases. The improvement is so rapid, especially with men. They tell me, after five classes, they can already feel themselves able to stretch more.”
In May Farrell taught an outdoor yoga class in Palmer Square for Sustainable Princeton to create awareness of its BYOBAG campaign, organized by Bainy Suri, a lawyer and director of strategic alliances for BNA in its Princeton office and Arlington, VA, headquarters. Suri writes in an E-mail: “I am a professional, single working mom so I’m always juggling a lot of things and getting pulled in a million directions. Yoga has taught me the importance of balance and how to breathe through difficult situations. It leaves me energized and refreshed and ultimately makes me more productive and creative at work.”
Liz Conner, owner of Prancing Peacock Yoga Studio, a transformed farmhouse on 12 acres in Newtown, PA, found yoga at age 42. “It is never too late to do yoga,” she says. “Yoga is a practice that will meet you wherever you are in life. I continually see good people who are stressed by work or life circumstances, or they are uncomfortable in their body. Many people come to the studio for physical reasons but continue with their practice because they discover how wonderful they feel at the end of class.
“Yoga has truly hit the mainstream; 25 million people practice yoga in the U.S., and there have been over 100 scientific studies that have found yoga to be an effective treatment for a broad range of medical problems from heart diseases to carpal tunnel syndrome,” Conner continues. “Those who practice yoga are not just here for the exercise but to let go of the list of things they need to do. I want my students to leave in a state of relaxation that I call Yoga Bliss.”
It has taken me six years of practicing yoga to feel that I am beginning to take my yoga off the mat. I focus on the future and the what-if’s of life far too much; for most people it happens a lot faster. But I’m getting better at putting on the brakes. For years, for example, I used to come home from work and immediately go to the kitchen to start dinner, before even changing my clothes. Once I had something going I would throw a load of laundry in the wash, then go pay a bill online, then open my mail, then empty the dishwasher, until before I knew it, it was 11 p.m. and I had literally not stopped moving. Now I come home, take my contacts out, and lie on the couch with my eyes closed for 20 minutes. I force myself not to move. It is really hard. If you are a working mother or were raised in a certain kind of family you will understand why.
And I have discovered that yoga is very helpful in my relationship with my son. “Children need your presence; they don’t need stuff,” says Gemma Farrell. “They need your genuine authentic presence. They need it a lot. When you’re growing, figuring out how things work in the world and how to handle your feelings, you need a parent who can really listen and who doesn’t have their own stuff getting in the way. This actually goes for all relationships — someone whose happiness you care about. We have this life to walk through. I think we’re here to learn, and if you’re just distracted and preoccupied and not even here for a lot of it, you’ve missed the moment. We need to do our best to show up for our lives. In your day-to-day life, if you’re more aware, you’re more grateful, and you’re more available to the people who need you.”
Now when my 15-year-old son talks to me, I listen more and talk less. A lot less. I curb the battery of questions I used to pump out like bullets. When he hugs me good night, which I’m proud to say he still does every night, I stay right there in that hug and attune all my senses to it: I even breathe in deeply his locker room scent and close my eyes so I don’t see the astonishing amount of boy clutter on the floor. That’s called being in the present moment — being aware of and grateful for something as it’s happening, that very moment, and shutting off the what’s-going-to-happen-five-minutes-or-five-years-from-now valve.
Yet, despite all the Post-Its stuck to my computer monitor that say, “Remember to breathe” and “Be here now,” I continue to struggle deeply to live in the present moment, to find gratitude in each day. That’s why they call yoga a practice.
In a Facebook world where people think what they ate for dinner is of interest to others and the threat of Sarah Palin running for president remains constant, it can be, well, tricky, just to breathe, let alone feel gratitude. Which is why I keep coming back to my yoga mat.
I’m still an imperfect yogi. I still occasionally think wicked thoughts about certain people in yoga classes who believe they are legends in their own mind; I still have a fear of being upside down and thus may never do a headstand, as much as I would love to be able to (Sprecher graciously told me once that you can actually go through your whole life and never do a headstand — and still have a good life); and I still think random thoughts during downward facing dog like, will I get home in time to raise my bid on that vintage wicker purse on eBay. But what I can say is that, without a doubt, now, after six years of practicing yoga, I have a pretty good yoga butt.
Four Winds Yoga, 114 Straube Center Boulevard, Pennington, 609-818-9888, www.fourwindsyoga.com.
Holsome Holistic Center, 27 Witherspoon Street, 609-279-1926, www.holsome.com.
Integral Yoga Institute, 613 Ridge Road, Suite 110, Monmouth Junction, 732-274-2410, www.iyiprinceton.com.
Linda Domino, E-mail email@example.com, teaches at Yoga Above (see below) and West Windsor Arts Council, 952 Alexander Road, Princeton Junction, 609-716-1931, www.westwindsorartscenter.org, open to the public.
Gemma Farrell, teaches privately and at Holsome Holistic Center, 732-642-9721, www.gratitudeyoga.org, E-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org.
Lululemon Athletica, 36 Nassau Street, 609-921-2035, www.lululemon/princeton, free classes Sundays, 9 to 10 a.m. Sponsors yoga events throughout the year and keeps a community bulletin board of yoga studios and events.
Mecquel, 609-240-2846, www.kalidanceandyoga.com. Teaches at Yoga Above and Princeton Academy of Martial Arts, at 14 Farber Road, Princeton.
Prancing Peacock, 524 Stony Hill Road, Yardley, PA, 267-679-0791, www.prancingpeacock.com.
Princeton Center for Yoga and Health, 50 Vreeland Drive, Skillman, 609-924-7294, www.princetonyoga.com.
Romy Yoga, 26 Tamar Court, Lawrenceville, www.romyoga.com
Simply Yoga, 4437 Route 27, Kingston Mall Shopping Center, Kingston, 609-924-7751, www.simplyyogakingston.com.
Susan Sprecher Yoga, 23 Orchard Road, lower level entrance, Skillman, 609-306-6682, www.yogasusan.com.
Vanessa Kudrat, www.bodymindgifts.com. Teaches privately and some classes open to non-members at Can Do Fitness, Forrestal Village, 609-514-0500, www.candofitness.com; offers some yoga classes for non-members.
Yoga Above, 80 Nassau Street, second floor, 609-613-1378, www.yogaabove.com.
Yoga Love, Yardley Grist Mill, 10 North main Street, Yardley, PA, 215-493-4446, www.liveyogalovelife.com.
Yogaphoria, 540 Union Square Drive, New Hope, PA, 215-862-4041, www.yogaphoria.com.
Yogasphere, 18 Swamp Road, Newtown, PA, 215-579-6130, www.yogasphere.net.