Binging on mindfulness

My goal upon returning to New York from a two-week trip to Mexico was to keep the full beard that had sprouted as I unwound in a Oaxacan beach town. A low bar, you may be thinking, but I suffer from a condition WebMD is calling “trichotillomania,” which causes me to pull out my own facial hair as a self-soothing mechanism. Removed from expectations of the everyday and the chaos of the city that wear away at my fragile psyche, I no longer needed to self-soothe because I was mollified by everything around me—sun, surf, sand. (Yes, I invented the concept of a beach vacation.)

I had gone to yoga twice in Oaxaca, and I thought attending some sessions in the city could help maintain my serenity-pilled spirit. My high-vibrational friend Kento suggested I try a new studio he heard was good that offered a $35 unlimited week. To make sure I got the most out of the deal, I started going multiple times a day. Searching for new student specials, I hopped around from studio to studio, instructor to instructor, practice to practice—Bikram, Hatha, Ashtanga, Qi Gong, Vinyasa, Yin, Ya…

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