#yoga people

[ekamyogashala]

Embrace the global spirit of unity and peace on International Yoga Day. Let's celebrate the journey of mindfulness, health, and inner harmony together. 🌍🧘‍♂️✨ 

[ranjith11]

Celebrating the Graduates of the Class of 2023 Yoga Teacher Training | Akram Yoga & Training

Congratulations to the graduates of the Class of 2022-23 Yoga Teacher Training! This remarkable group of individuals has completed an intensive program, delving into the art and science of yoga. Through dedicated practice, deep study, and self-reflection, you have honed your skills and gained a profound understanding of this ancient discipline. As yoga teachers, you now possess the knowledge and expertise to guide others on their own transformative journeys. Your dedication, discipline, and passion have brought you to this momentous milestone, and you are now equipped to share the profound benefits of yoga with the world. May your graduation mark the beginning of a fulfilling and meaningful career, as you inspire others to find balance, peace, and well-being through the practice of yoga. Congratulations once again, and may you continue to deepen your own practice while spreading the light of yoga to all those you encounter.

[tinakp]

Celebrating the Graduates of the Class of 2023 Yoga Teacher Training | Akram Yoga & Training

Congratulations to the graduates of the Class of 2022-23 Yoga Teacher Training! This remarkable group of individuals has completed an intensive program, delving into the art and science of yoga. Through dedicated practice, deep study, and self-reflection, you have honed your skills and gained a profound understanding of this ancient discipline. As yoga teachers, you now possess the knowledge and expertise to guide others on their own transformative journeys. Your dedication, discipline, and passion have brought you to this momentous milestone, and you are now equipped to share the profound benefits of yoga with the world. May your graduation mark the beginning of a fulfilling and meaningful career, as you inspire others to find balance, peace, and well-being through the practice of yoga. Congratulations once again, and may you continue to deepen your own practice while spreading the light of yoga to all those you encounter.

[sreehari28]

Congratulations to the graduates of the Class of 2022-23 Yoga Teacher Training! This remarkable group of individuals has completed an intensive program, delving into the art and science of yoga. Through dedicated practice, deep study, and self-reflection, you have honed your skills and gained a profound understanding of this ancient discipline. As yoga teachers, you now possess the knowledge and expertise to guide others on their own transformative journeys. Your dedication, discipline, and passion have brought you to this momentous milestone, and you are now equipped to share the profound benefits of yoga with the world. May your graduation mark the beginning of a fulfilling and meaningful career, as you inspire others to find balance, peace, and well-being through the practice of yoga. Congratulations once again, and may you continue to deepen your own practice while spreading the light of yoga to all those you encounter.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... J'onn broke the news that Danny thinks he's going to be forced into combat in exchange for his medical care. Everyone disliked that™.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

COME GET YOUR NEW ART HERE 💥🍳!!💥 IT'S FIBERCRAFT!!Shoutout to @rainbowbeansprout for crocheting a fic accurate injured ghost Danny!! That's outstanding!!

💚👻👽👻💚

So, Wally broke all of the bones in his legs yesterday.

Which is…not ideal. Still. He’s pretty used to it at this point, though, and he’s already mostly healed.

It’s just that. Well.

…The rest of healing is kind of…time-consuming.

So Wally’s in basketball shorts and a mask and a t-shirt he’d started using as pajamas when he was in college and he’s on the med floor of the Watchtower, and yet another physical therapist is helping him bend his leg back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, because he’d tripped in the middle of the Speedforce and busted everything hip-down.

So. (Back, and forth. Back, and forth. Back…) This sucks.

“Do we have to do this every time?” Wally asks, as if there isn’t a team of medical professionals kept on hand to deal with Superpower-wrought Super Medical Problems.

“Do you have to shatter your legs every time?” the PT asks back wryly, which, hey! The pressure pressing up against his bare foot is an additional stressor to the sass. “Bend this more for me, Flash. You can do it.”

Wally grumbles, and pretends the angle his leg is bending at doesn’t make him wince. Wow is he going to have to build his flexibility back up again.

The physical therapy room looks just like any other gym, basically; a lot of squishy mats in playful colors, a lot of grippy tape; a LOT of wipeable vinyl surfaces that can be sanitized at a moment’s notice. It smells kind of weird and plasticky and kind of like alcohol cleaner.

It’s not his favorite room in the Watchtower, but, eh. It could be way worse. What’s unusual is the whirrr of the door opening and closing in one of the private care rooms for another patient, since, you know...HIPAA and all that. Wally assumes. Or is it costume confidentiality once you leave Earth's atmosphere...?

Usually everyone knows who’s stopping in for PE through the sheer power of the Justice League gossip groupchats. (There’s at least nine. Wally’s in four of them. He aspires to be in two more by April.) There hasn’t been a big fight that requires long-term medical care in a while, and there’s no one Wally can think of who’d need this kind of recovery.

Something’s buzzing at the outside of his awareness, though. It sounds kind of…

Wally perks up. “Hey, the alien kid’s here!”

The PT holding Wally up at the waist hums. Her name is Cindy, and judging from their previous conversations, she thinks that Wally is the dumbest man alive. “There’s a million of those, Flash. Which one?”

“The one who bit Superman,” Wally adds.

Judging by the face Cindy makes, this clarifies nothing.

“Most recently,” Wally stresses, carefully not wincing as his leg gets stretched out again, only to be pulled back into position as tightly as before. “OW. Cindy, you’re killing me.”

Cindy makes a strangled noise. She asks: “What, again?” which is how Wally remembers that he got torn back out of the time stream not all that long ago, and it may be a big gauche to joke about your own death with the people who care about it.

Whoops. Wally winces. “…Nevermind?”

The other PTs make various fussy and annoyed noises, but the alien kid is wheeled onto the other side of the medical floor’s only gym. (The actual training floors are on another level. Wally wishes he was there. Alone.)

(Without four PTs clinging to his legs at all times.)

Wally waves. It’s a nice enough gesture, and now that the alien-phantasm-turned-flesh-and-blood-boy is more physically embodied than he used to be, the boy even deigns to carefully wave back.

The kid’s PTs—Wally thinks at least one of them is from the team that supervises Bart and his super-powered-leg-problems—end up encouraging the alien kid’s chair round to the soft mats where the kid can lay down. He ends up in the exact same position Wally is—horizontal on the floor, legs forcibly pinwheeled by enthusiastic but firm PTs.

Wally can physically feel the kid’s astonishment and discontentment buzzing in the air as he figures out what’s being done to him. Wally can’t help but laugh.

The kid angles his head towards the speedster. His face still looks—well, it looks…bad. It looks bad, unhealed and still threatening to weep neon green body fluids; there’s a wet, living crack running up and down his face that makes eye contact kind of hard. His hands are all spidery—this kid can probably hold and grip things, but the previous breakage have left his hands a little too easy to splay, a little too oddly-angled. He’s too thin to keep himself fully upright for long. When he looks at you, his eyes shake like a poorly lined-up television signal.

Martian Manhunter had said that he’d once looked like a healthy, happy human child. His current form is a reflection of the injuries he’d experienced since.

...What a thing for a kid to go through. Wally wouldn’t wish this sort of injury on anyone.

“­Alright, up you go,” the PT above him—Rhys, Wally remembers at the very last second—orders, and Wally is prompted to let the man help him back upright. “Over to the bars for you. You think your legs are up to bearing that kind of weight as you try out walking?”

“…Sure,” Wally lies to Rhys. It’ll be fine. Probably. By the time he gets over there, his legs might have already speed-healed by then. “Hand me the—?”

“Yeah, yeah, here’s the crutches. Don’t destroy yourself trying to make this happen, okay?”

So Wally gets set up at the glorified playground equipment in his least restrictive gym clothes, one long iron bar under one arm, and one long iron bar under the other. Two full-size physical therapists spot him as the speedster completes the most strenuous task available to him at the moment: walking across a very short distance without putting his full weight on his legs.

Wally puts one shaking leg in front of the other. The steps are slow. The urge to zoom to the end of the little bowling lane he’s stuck in—and therefore shatter his legs under the speedforce, again—is irresistibly temping.

Healing sucks. And Wally’s even got the longer end of the stick.

In the end, Wally sticks the landing. He is unreasonably sweaty. He is miserable. But he makes it to the end. Every one of the witnessing PTs applauds as if this is a great success. It’s literally not. It’s the inevitable result of pushing himself too far for the third time this year.

A question buzzes through the air, fluffing through Wally’s hair and the little fine hairs up and down his body. It’s nothing but inquisitive—whatareyoudoing whatareyoudoing?

Wally lets the PT maneuver a chair underneath him. It gives him enough breathing room to turn his upper torso, and he ends up catching the eye of the little alien kid in the corner. He’s sat on a yoga ball, two members of his medical team and one of the kids’ PTs trying to get his attention back to his exercises.

“Hey,” Wally realizes suddenly. “Your casts are gone!”

The kids’ legs are actually bare, which Wally’s never seen before. They’re twiggy, sure, stretched taut over a bone frame, and discolored and pale, but they’re legs. Wally hadn’t even known the alien had possessed legs until he’d formed a physical body months and months ago.

“Dude, that’s great!”

Happy/smug/proud vibrates through the room, making Wally’s teeth buzz. The kid smiles through a half-split lip, and bounces on the yoga ball ever so slightly.

“Good,” the kid says, surprising Wally, his PTs, and the kid’s usual medical team. He was talking already?! He thought J’onn had said—

“Hurt?” the boy asks, concern/concern flooding through the air. Oh. Right. He’s probably here for his busted legs; it would make sense that by virtue of the setting, Wally would be injured too.

And, sure, Wally busted his legs, but he at least heals with all the swiftness of the speedforce. “Meh.” Wally waves off the question. “I’m fine. It’ll be quick for me; some rehab and some lunch and a few days off, and I’ll be in shipshape.”

Wait. Wally’s eyes scrunches up. Is using wordplay appropriate with this kid…?

“Pain?” the kid asks, and turned his attention to the closest member of his medical team. “He pain?”

The medical professional sighs, which finally clues Wally in that the man is no longer masked. Hey, the kid is out of medical isolation! “The Flash has his own medication, thankfully. His doctors know what to do.”

The kid frowns. He doesn’t get it. He looks at Wally, and he looks at the staffer, who shrugs. “It’s the usual indicator word he uses for pain medication. He’s wondering if you’re hurt enough to need some.”

Wally hums. On one hand, it’s sweet that the alien kid is worried about him. It’s a huge step upwards from the alien who spent all his time hiding in abandoned meeting rooms and occasionally biting Superheroes.

On the other hand, the kid doesn’t just look worried that Wally might not be getting care; he looks scared.

Something happened to this kid. Something he can't shake off.

Wally breathes in, and breathes out.

—And breathes in sharply when Cindy starts wiggling his feet. She doesn’t respond at all to his glare, because she is a professional, and he is not a big baby of a superhero.

Mean.

“I’m fine,” Wally finally responds, trying to alleviate the kid’s concerns through sheer vibes-telepathy alone. Who knows if it’s working, but it makes Wally feel better about trying at the very least. “I’ve got my own team to fix me up, and they do a good job of taking care of me. Even if they’re bullying me at my most vulnerable.”

“Anything for you, boss,” Cindy volleys back cheerfully. “Gimme your other leg.”

The tension in the air slowly dissipates. The kid doesn’t stop shooting occasional looks at the unadorned, half-out-of-uniform Flash, but he does let Bart’s little PT team get to working on stretching out his previously-bound now-physical legs and getting him upright—if only for a few seconds at a time, balanced precariously by humans who actually touch his back and arms and hips and legs.

Wally’s session wraps up before the kid’s does. He’s not in any rush. He gets onto the walking crutches Rhys leaves out for his temporary use and lopes over to watch, occasionally hooting and applauding when the kid pulls off something no one’d been sure he could do.

The double handed high-five Wally offers him at the end is punctuated with shaky eye contact, two working hands, and a green-threaded beaming grin.

*

Diana cheerfully digs into her kebab lunch, plastic cutlery pushed to their maximum limit before threatening to break under her prodigious strength. “You know, Batman,” she starts, beaming, “My charge gave me his name the other day.”

Bruce sets down his muenster-ham-and-whole-wheat sandwich mid-bite. “I’ll need to hear everything,” he says immediately, to which Diana tuts.

“Oh, Batman, I could never break his trust like that,” she says, sweet as anything. She finesses a bite of lamb from the skewer and takes a neat bite.

“…Wonder Woman,” Batman says.

“Hm?”

“Diana.”

“Is there something you needed, Bruce?” Diana asks, pleased with herself. There genuinely is very little that could be done with a vague description of a now-altered human form and a first name alone; besides, she genuinely does feel that hearing the boy’s name come from others’ lips would be upsetting for him. Danny offered his name to Diana alone, and so it shall remain until hers alone he offers it to others.

Still, she is not above bragging.

“I need information.” Bruce’s face underneath his mask is stone.

Diana dips a second chunk of lamb into a little container of tzatziki sauce. “Well, then,” she points out, “Shouldn’t you spend some time building rapport with my charge, then?”

The feared Batman of Gotham, father of a half-dozen highly trained heroes, bristles like a wet cat. The demeanor is almost comical. He knows what he looks like to non-Gothamite children. He knows his suit will make this fight for common familiarity an uphill battle.

Diana smugly works through her lunch and ignores Bruce’s silent brooding as he does the same.

[serial-unaliver]

sometimes i'm like omg I should go to a gym! then I remember I frequently struggle to pick up products at the gocey store I work at to an embarrassing extent and get scared

[jeanambrojo]

[talkingattumble]

Chronic pain is. Such an unfathomable concept to people. I’ll be like “hey I’m gonna rest for an hour or two because I reached my limit on walking/exercise and I’m in a lot of pain right now” and then a family member or friend will say”actually this article says that’s really bad for you” and the article in question is always something like “Health Tips for the Average Normal Healthy Person by Mike Ablebodied”

Not to mention finding resources like. I’ll find resources by disabled people and it’ll be like “hey exercise is important, but find a way to workout that uses less spoons, and if you’re having a high pain day then take a break, and here’s some exercises you can do from bed”. And then I’ll find some able bodied persons fibromyalgia tips and it’s like “if you don’t walk sixteen miles every day your muscles will atrophy and you’ll die also your mobility aid makes you weak”. Guess which one of those sources I trust more. And now guess which sources the people around me always seem to find and listen to. Are these kinds of things common or am I just unlucky? Does anyone else have this problem?

[gasstationpopcorn]

i'm still laughing at the DIFFERENCE in vibes i can't

[fangirl-k8ee-ladyknight]

Is there/could there be a fic where

1) Roy takes the yoga mums to the charity gala after he’s been promoted to gaffer and just tells them it’s a work thing that he thinks they’ll have fun at and he buys them all glorious outfits and gets them a limo, the whole nine, and all they have to do is bid on Jamie for him.

2) Roy asks Jamie “do you trust me? Then have fun. Peacock. Pull an audible and tell the bidder they can pick the date. Enjoy your prick self.”

3) the mums buy his date and tell him he needs to wear clothes he can be *flexible* in and roy just tells Jamie to go with it.

4) date is just regular yoga night with Roy and the mums with wine (that Roy lets Jamie have TWO glasses of) and reality tv show watching and boy problem bitching and he has an absolute blast.

5) the mums “misunderstand” and make comments about how cute a couple they’d make all night.

Either pre-relationship or getting together.

[vermwerm]

KILL.

[ekamyogashala]

We began our November batch with a beautiful fire ceremony to welcome our new trainees and set positive intentions for the weeks ahead.

The sacred fire symbolize purification, intention, and renewal — a reminder to let go of what no longer serves us and open our hearts to growth and learning.

Here’s to a month of deep connection, self-discovery, and shared wisdom. Welcome to the Ekam family ✨❤️ . . . . . . . . . . . .

[ranjith11]

Celebrating the Graduates of the Class of 2023 Yoga Teacher Training | Akram Yoga & Training

Congratulations to the graduates of the Class of 2022-23 Yoga Teacher Training! This remarkable group of individuals has completed an intensive program, delving into the art and science of yoga. Through dedicated practice, deep study, and self-reflection, you have honed your skills and gained a profound understanding of this ancient discipline. As yoga teachers, you now possess the knowledge and expertise to guide others on their own transformative journeys. Your dedication, discipline, and passion have brought you to this momentous milestone, and you are now equipped to share the profound benefits of yoga with the world. May your graduation mark the beginning of a fulfilling and meaningful career, as you inspire others to find balance, peace, and well-being through the practice of yoga. Congratulations once again, and may you continue to deepen your own practice while spreading the light of yoga to all those you encounter.

[stopandimagineloveforever]

"And the only one who was really adept at yoga was McCartney. He would do a handstand or a headstand and he had the most lithe body you've ever seen — and back then he was in his late '60s — and he was so fit."

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

how come I love leading class and reading groups and small groups and lectures and conference papers and book clubs

and I HATE leading Women's Bible Study

[sophiethewitch1]

You mentioned that all the Wayne's post thirst traps. And that Damian's are like Victorian women showing some racy ankle. What does he consider a thirst trap then.

Have you ever seen a man in a dark turtle neck sweater.