On March 31st 1986 my mother jumped out of the 7th floor window of her bedroom. On her way down she crashed onto a glass table that was on the backyard of the owners of the ground floor unit. She died that day. She was depressed and desperate.

To me, that felt like I received two gun-shots, one to the head (an atomic explosion), and one big cannon-ball bullet to the stomach.

I am not writing to tell you that story. This is about how “healing” a daily yoga practice can be.