Public confession goes in and out of favor. I'm not sure if it's exactly popular at this moment, but I am going to confess something to you now.
I do yoga.
I have my own mat and everything. I like yoga. I look forward to going to class. I like how I feel when class is over. It's hard work — really. It's nothing to be ashamed of — honest.
But, yesterday, as I sat on the floor with my legs crossed, with my hands in a prayer position, and we all started to ohm, I thought this is a little nutty.
I had one of those out of body experiences where the old me, that grew up working on a farm, the old me with the creaky bones from all those years playing football, the old me who breaks ribs falling off of horses was thinking, this new me, the ohm me, looked kind of silly.
So the two of us had a conversation, and the old me agreed with the ohm me that this yoga stuff is really going to extend the life of the old me — keep me limber enough to get hurt doing something else.
Harry's daily commentary can be heard on many across the country.
By Harry Smith