Going Om: Shrines, Shamans, and the Lack of Sarcasm in Bali
I finally caved and started reading Eat, Pray, Love. I had just been to the best yoga class of my life in a jungle-themed studio with rice fields views. We chanted incantations to Ganesh for 20 minutes before bending into pretzel-like poses while breathing in self-acceptance. Before class, four girls to my right hugged each other hello with such intensity, for a second, I thought they might be on Molly. Each had practiced with a string of japamala (Indian prayer beads) laid on the floor in front of her mat. After class, I chugged an entire coconut, had a gluten-free cookie and bought a book entitled I Am Amazing. Normally, coconut water makes me want to puke, so I’m taking this as a sign that my transformation is now complete.