(As published on Elephant Journal)
I am not at all what anyone would – or could – call a patient person by nature. At the age of 17, my ego’s desire for speed, intensity, and ultimately, immediate gratification, led me to New York City: the fastest paced city I have ever lived in, visited, or even heard of. A “New York Minute,” after all, is widely known for being the tiniest measurable length of time in the world. Johnny Carson once explained it as ‘the interval between a Manhattan traffic light turning green and the cab driver behind you honking his horn.’ Everything in my life in New York, from traffic to meetings to meals to time with friends and loved ones could best be described by one word: FAST. Even the Yoga classes I used to attend in New York could be most accurately characterized as both quick and intense. The same practice of Yoga, which was originally designed and intended to help one slow down enough to relax and connect with one’s inner Self, was something I, in part and unknowingly, used to fuel my addiction to speed.