Yoga. Does elephant talk about yoga because it’s a prime, affluent demographic in the eyes of our natural/eco/yoga advertisers (the folks who pay for our magazine to get to you)? Do we talk about it because elephant, in our first incarnation, was a local yoga magazine called Yoga in the Rockies? Or do we talk about it because it’s an ancient tradition that has, in the past 20 years, doubled in size again and again, transforming the daily lives of Americans everywhere? Or do we talk about it because, personally speaking, it eases open stressed hearts and kicks our collective butt? Guilty as charged.

I grew up Buddhist, and in Tibetan Buddhism you do various practices that are intended to break down your resistance to waking up (among them, 108,000 “prostrations”). Yoga, for me, is more than a little like those practices. It’s hard. It makes me breathe into those tight closed places (like my brain) that haven’t seen the light of day in…ever. And so it was that, having slacked lately, I was grateful to get my butt kicked the other day by Ashley. The class was long and hard and my five friends and I limped out of class, glad it was over and gladder we’d gone.

I wasn’t so psyched, however, to walk out and find my good old black Bianchi Milano…poof. Gone. Funny thing: the thief had taken out the two packs of 20 elephant magazines stowed in each saddlebag and set them carefully on the grass before stealing away. So my friend and I walked to her huge S.U.V., and I got a ride home to “Hotelephant.”

I’ve had things stolen from me before, and been pleasantly surprised not to mind so much. I usually shrug, and say, “what’s happened, happened.” In this case, however, I got a little bitter. But as I cooled off, I decided that while I may be broke right now, this was a good opportunity to check out getting a new, faster, lighter ride at University Bikes. I’ve bought five bikes there, now, if you count bikes we’ve bought for staff members, not to mention countless parts. And all told, the cost of owning a bike is miniscule compared with even the most reliable car.

So if you see me riding my lovely, if weighty Electra Amsterdam around for a week or so (normally it’s the guest bike at Hotelephant) you don’t need to feel sorry for me. Feel happy that you live in a community who really cares, and supports our silly entrepreneurs without any money who want to start an independent magazine that does its best to be mindful, raw, open, and real. And as always, if you want to write an article about your passion or an editor’s letter about how we can be better, please do so.
~ ele Editor-in-chief, Waylon Lewis