Category Archives: wellness & vitality

meatless monday: new food rules, runaway, and jon snow

Sara little yoga blog nyc salt
From the NYT: The Upshot: “Simple Rules for Healthy Eating.” Science-based and honest. Particularly thrilling: #3 (salt so good) and #7 (eat with your loves). Also: avoid treating any food like the devil.

Sara little yoga blog nyc aurora
Aurora’sRunaway.” Pretty, ethereal vocals from an 18-year-old Norwegian.


Seth Meyers brings Jon Snow to a dinner party. No brainer.

meatless monday: 3 meatless things for the week ahead

sara little yoga blog nyc odessa
“Grow” by Odessa. Sweet voice, sweet song, especially in the context of spring’s floral awakening.
Listen here.

sara little yoga blog nyc reverse warrior
Reverse Warrior
. Studio-to-street yogawear with peaceful undertones and 20% of its proceeds going to the Prison Yoga Project and the Veteran’s Yoga Project.
Buy here.

sara little yoga blog nyc super soft heroes
Super Soft Heroes.” A Norwegian cartoonist creates a coloring book for her young son after he says he won’t cry because Spiderman doesn’t cry:

“Boys learn from their role models… [w]hen my three year old son stopped crying because none of his heroes do, I had to take action because I think this is (excuse me) bullshit. I decided to draw ten soft super heroes and then strong princesses, just to give the kids some alternatives.”

Humanizing heroes. Download here.

Image

wednesday wisdom: work to idle

sara little yoga blog nyc jerome work

meatless monday: food sharing

via lucurates.com

via lucurates.com

No time for recipe-ing. Only time for image (and food) sharing.

(Lovely photo via Lu Curates; visit for more goodness).

but first, coffee: how do you handle mornings?

what does it mean, though?

what does it mean, though?

From the exhausting, sleep-deprived teen years to the most recent stretch of challenging life transitions, mornings have always been a great struggle and not much of a great joy for me.

“I am not at my best self right now.”

Simply recognizing this was the first step to reconciling the morning struggle. The second step: building into this realization a sense of self-acceptance. For me, this was learning (through trial and error) an AM routine that is both gentle and soothing, yet encourages just enough pluck to make it out the door with an acceptable attitude (notice I say “acceptable” here. Some mornings that’s all we can hope for).

Anne Lamott said that as we’re moving through life, we should try go “slowly, and majestically.” I try to remind myself when I can, when the iPhone alarm goes off 3-7 times and my eyes begin to open. Go slowly, go majestically. Also, these things help:

Start with self-care: coffee and puttering.
These are the non-negotiables. Coffee with a splash of almond milk, and built-in time to shuffle about and get my bearings.

A moment to yourself.
Many wise, calm people I respect have a “no technology in bed” rule. This simply does not work for me. Mornings are made better with a glance at my Google calendar, my email, the Weather Channel app, and a quick swipe-swipe-swipe through Instagram.

Strrrrretch.
I don’t typically have time for a full-on yoga practice, but a few breaths set aside to stretch shoulders, hamstrings and back (even while waiting for the coffee to brew) is enough to give a little energetic boost.

Make the bed.
I live and work in New York City, and chaos awaits from the moment the front door swings open. Just through its simplicity and solitude, making the bed brings routine and a sense of order to your world.

Green smoothies in the summer…
Summer’s longer days make it easier to rise with the sun more naturally, as well as gravitate towards the fresh, local produce that’s in season. A green smoothie—like the Triple Green Superfood—is utter perfection in its balance of spinach, pear and lime. (In fact, Aloha is chalk full of great, healthy recipes: nice-looking smoothies, snacks and breakies. Sweet food photography, too).

…and miso soup in the winter.
I feel like I don’t shut up about miso. In the traditional Japanese breakfast, fermented foods like miso are revered for aiding digestion, preventing illness and keeping intestinal flora healthy. I like that it’s a major AM accomplishment: I made some soup today. It’s 7am.

Add a finishing touch, and own it.
Right before stepping out into the world and into your day, add a signature accent: a slick of red lipstick, a floraly, spicy spritz, a pair of obnoxiously oversized sunglasses. This final gesture of self-care—no matter how modest—can set the tone for the rest of the day.

Then, go: majestically, of course.

meatless monday: a new miso

photo by tina leigh, via aloha.com

photo by tina leigh, via aloha.com

Miso soup has been a big deal around here these days (remember: it’s not so much “cooking” as it is stirring a glob of miso paste into hot water), so when I stumbled upon this very pretty and alluring take on an old favorite, I was instantly intrigued. It looks like cream of broccoli, but with a miso base instead of a cream one!

The recipe (over at Aloha.com) calls for chickpea miso, which I’ve never tried but sounds nice. I would be curious to try it with my paste of choice, Miso Master Organic Brown Rice Miso (so salty, so satisfying).

Who wants to try it? And then deliver it to me?

farewell, yoga high: a little valentine’s day ode and lovefest

via YH's instagram.

via YH’s instagram.

I first started teaching in 2008 and immediately threw myself into the New York yoga scene. I came out of my 200-hour certification with that same kind of overconfidence you see in anyone young enough to have energy and ambition, without the tempering wisdom that only comes from experience.

I knew anatomy and had the muscles and bones and their functions and planes of movement memorized. I knew all the poses and their Sanskrit names and how to modify them with props. I knew how to sequence a smart class and could recite the Sutras, the 8 Limbs and a handful of verses from the Gita.

And yet: I knew nothing about yoga.

I didn’t know shit about anything. And then: I found Yoga High. (Mel and Liz: sorry, maybe you didn’t realize this when you hired me. Or maybe you did? Immense gratitude, regardless.)

I walked past Yoga High daily in its old heyday on Clinton Street, barely three blocks from my apartment. Its co-owners were two women who worked in this beautifully balanced way: the strength and conviction of Mel was impressive, the quiet flexibility and gentleness of Liz was inspiring.

The space they created drew together a mishmash of New Yorkers: artists, entrepreneurs, college students, hedge funders, designers, performers, doctors and bartenders. A true cross-section of this weird, wild city, and for an hour or so we were all equals, quietly working on our breathing and our neuroses and our hamstrings.

As a student, it was a place where I could show up in any state of despair or joy, to cry or laugh, and drag myself through a practice that always seemed to give me exactly what I needed. It saw me through my best and worst moments.

As a teacher, the gift was in seeing the faces of students and friends, watching the unfolding of practices as this collective ebbed and flowed and grew and changed with each season.

It was a place where Kanye and Beck lived in miraculous harmony on my playlists, alongside Thom Yorke and Karen O. and Lana and Thurston and all the dudes from The National.

It was a place where you could show up, do the practice (“Or: don’t do it! I don’t care!”) and leave with a fullness of heart and head and maybe be just a teeny tiny bit more patience for all the weirdos awaiting us out in the world.

Because yoga is only kind of about poses and breathing. It’s mainly about community.

Yoga High held its final classes last month in the LES. But it’s taking on new life in other places where community is wanted and needed.

Here’s to the next reincarnation.