There is nothing like practicing yoga at Solstice in Times Square. Bodies are packed together, each person with his or her own brightly colored mat right on the street. Every race, religion, body type, and walk of life is represented. Spectators line the designated yoga area taking pictures with astonished looks on their faces. Tourists wave and cheer from passing tour buses. Horns are honking. Taxi drivers are yelling. Neon signs flash with light and movement. It is mayhem, yet the practice is calm — an island of stillness in an ocean of clamor and noise.
It is what yoga is all about.