FIREFLY POSEI remember in college lying down in the street
for peace, being proud of my protests and civil
disobedience, and thinking it was very important.
I had hoped to be a professor. As an under-
grad, I studied the history of U.S. foreign policy.
This was in the early 2000s, at the time of the
Iraq War, and I became very interested in how
the American people did or didn’t understand
the United States’ involvement in the world. It
was really almost an activist heart that brought
me to the field of diplomatic history: I wanted to
help people know how to ask the right questions.
So I went to graduate school for a PhD. And,
you know, it was hard. It wasn’t a cheery topic,
and it weighed on me. I also found myself won-
dering if my being a history professor was going
to make a difference. I was disheartened by the
state of the nation and doubted whether I could
do anything about it as an academic.
Meanwhile I had gotten very into yoga. I had
begun a daily practice when I was twenty-four.
What initially appealed to me was that it cured
me of the insomnia and depression I had been
grappling with for over a decade. Later, I loved
it for teaching me important life lessons through
the movement of my own body. I learned the
value of having discipline while still remaining
detached from the outcome of my work.
I ended up leaving academia and becoming
a yoga teacher. I don’t think there’s anything
wrong with the fact that I was planning on get-
ting a PhD and now use pretty much none of
my studies. I don’t regret for a single day my
advanced education, not because I’m more inter-
esting at somebody’s cocktail party, but because
it makes me a richer, fuller yoga teacher. I don’t
think that’s lost on my students.
I do feel like I’m making the world more
peaceful. I don’t lie down in the street anymore.
But when fifty people are lying down at the end
of a yoga class, that is lying down for peace. It’s
taking a holy moment. I think that is powerful.