More concerning is the contempt from within the Yoga community. I am always dismayed when I read a blog post or an article (and, sadly, there are many) that sneers out at the world. “Suburban housewives in health clubs and community centers,” they say, “that’s not REAL yoga.” (Because, I suppose, for these people, nothing says “Authentic Yoga” like passing judgment on another person’s practice. Curious.)

Oh, stop, people. We middle-aged suburban women who have kids are just as relevant as the rest of you. And, I can tell you, my classes at the local Y are a true Kula. We make use of the gym’s childcare center, we join together, and for a precious hour or two we center our minds and spirits, grounded in our physical being. (And, if I’m a good girl and don’t whine too much about core-centric asanas, our teacher treats me with the mad euphoria of a long-held pigeon pose!)

It doesn’t matter what you think of us, you New York Times, you “authentic” yogis. We enter our studio, our Activity Room, our Community Center as bits of glass. But, our silly chatter blends and melds into one breath, one voice. We move as one through our practices, lifting each other with a like energy. By the end, Yoga becomes the light that shines though our sad piece of glass, sending rainbows across the room, across our communities. And, together, our “inauthentic” kula of women shines together like a glorious chandelier lit from within by the light of our prana. Laugh at our minivans and playgroups if you must, but, remember that we are the fuel in your community machine. We volunteer in your schools, your shelters. We raise funds for suffering people nearby and around the world. We nurture young ones, and teach them the loving kindness we seek to build in yoga.

Wow. Too serious, too long for me. In short: Suck it, bitches. I’m an old bag who loves her practice. Haters, shut it. But, please….stop calling me a “Yoga Mom.”

I find “Prana Mama” to be a far more appealing phrase.

That said, count me in

“If my heart can become pure and simple like that of a child, I think there can be no happiness greater than this.”

-Kitaro Nishida