Practicing yoga in Sedona feels like plugging directly into the earth.
There’s a lot of talk about energy vortexes (vortices?) here — magnetic spots said to produce a range of physical, emotional, and spiritual effects. Whether or not you subscribe to the metaphysical, Sedona undeniably carries a charge. In the thin high desert air, among the towering red rock formations and juniper breeze, perspective shifts.
We stayed at the former Orchard Inn, where I unrolled my mat on the balcony facing a panoramic horizon. The air held a crisp, late-spring edge, cooling down just enough to tease sweater weather without fully committing.
My evening practice was inspired by the expanse: open heart, open mind. Reverse Tabletop and Camel to open the front body and counteract the five-hour drive from Las Vegas. Wide-legged forward folds and seated twists followed to support digestion and release tension. I closed with Malasana and Child’s Pose as the breeze shifted and the trees came alive with birdsong. I left the mat with dusty hands and a quiet mind, plus a healthy appetite after a day of hiking, which we satisfied with the best pizza of our lives at Pisa Lisa.
Sedona isn’t easily explained, but it is felt. The place holds gravitas — the kind that widens the corners of your eyes so you can take in more of the periphery. As the sun set behind the ridges, shadows cast a wash of watercolor across the landscape, revealing new edges and a pull of something ancient. Magnetic.
Somewhere near Joshua Tree, David pulled the car over so we could take a photo standing like this. I still have no idea why.
