Yoga and The Angry Black Man

In the fall of 2002, I was 220 pounds, starting a new career as a performer, freshly dumped by my upwardly mobile girlfriend, and kinda homeless. It was a confusing, disappointing time in which I was either regretful or worried at any given moment.

Oh, and angry. Constantly angry. So very, very angry. Life after college was not going as well as the commercials and most sitcoms told me it would. There were no cool…