Fran Smith has written about precision medicine
and the science of addiction for the magazine.
Andy Richter, a yoga devotee, photographed the
discipline for his book, Serpent in the Wilderness.reconciling the yoga scene with the potential of
a serious practice. “I would get feedback that my
playlist wasn’t cool enough,” said teacher Olivia
Mead. “I thought, I cannot handle this anymore.
I didn’t become a yoga instructor to wear cute
shorts. I actually wanted to make a difference.”
Mead founded Yoga for First Responders. The
nonprofit has brought yoga to police depart-
ments, fire stations, and training academies
from Los Angeles to Thunder Bay, Ontario.
Classes tailor the traditional yoga elements—
physical postures, breath regulation, deep relax-
ation, and meditation—to help people endure
the challenges of putting their lives on the line.
“The whole goal is to harness the mind,” she
said, “not to touch your toes.”NINETEEN WOMEN WEARING identical inmate
T-shirts and pants took their spots on mis-
matched yoga mats arranged in a U-shape in a
cramped room at Jacksonville’s Montgomery
Correctional Center. Two uniformed officers
stood watch over me; one of them, Sgt. Rhonda
Warren, held an iPad and videoed my interviews.
It seemed an unlikely setting to release stress,
not to mention harness the mind. Kathryn
Thomas, a former Navy aviator who founded
the nonprofit Yoga 4 Change, led the women
through deep inhales and exhales, and then the
fluid series of poses known as the sun salutation.
Gradually, a sense of calm became palpable.
Most inmates weren’t required to come. Some
signed up, as Melissa Bruce told me, “basically
to have something to do.” Many wanted a break
from the tension and clamor of living among
inmates, an hour to sink into oneself. If they
hadn’t all achieved enlightenment or transforma-
tion, at least a dozen told me they’d learned skills
to help them survive another day. Philieza Lopano
said she used the breathing exercises and gentle
stretches during lockdowns to relieve anxiety.
Watching each woman stretch and fold and
blow out her breath in loud, unembarrassed
whooshes, it occurred to me that I might have
fared better in yoga if I’d focused less on other
people and more on myself, without judgment.
After the women filed out of the room, I men-
tioned to Warren that I would try yoga again.
“I know,” she said, nodding slowly. “Me too.” jhe spoke, I dutifully listened. In the 2.4-square-
mile New York City suburb where I live, yoga
is abundantly available in storefront studios,
community recreation rooms, the continuing
education program, and the chain health club.
I started there, accompanied by my husband.
Classes were packed. People jostled for space
like subway commuters. Supple spandex-clad
bodies bent, curled, and twisted in ways that
defied me. It felt like one more competitive
arena where I didn’t measure up. I took refuge
in restorative yoga, where I seemed as adept as
anyone at splaying across comfortable bolsters
and trying not to snore. Meanwhile, my husband
learned to stand on his head.
I’m not the only one to have a hard time
On a tower over
the sacred Yamuna
River in Vrindavan,
a man meditates at
Keshi Ghat, a Hindu
holy site. In India yoga
retains more of its
origins as a harmony
between body and
mind. The spiritual
and physical practice
is believed to help
yogis overcome worldly
suffering and attain
a state of liberation.FINDING CALM 135