This collection of eclectic anecdotes charts my reluctant evolution from Type A cynic to Type Y (yoga) optimist. Inspired by bits of random dialogue with fellow yogis, confessional phone calls from friends, loud-talkers in coffee shops, a stare down with a winter-skinny deer and salient nuggets from yoga instructors in various locales—including the Hamptons, Palm Springs, Upstate New York, Los Angeles, Nantucket, and Martha’s Vineyard—the sharp-edged wisdom found in these pages is the ultimate DIY therapy. Rather than explore the spiritual core or physical practice of yoga, these stories capture how yoga can lighten the rest of your day by quieting the crazy squirrels that live in your head.

In the context of our social, political and cultural oddities, these essays surf the edge between OMG and “OM.” As a wisewoman said, “Yoga really begins when class ends.” Michael’s theory: if everyone was required to practice yoga, we’d have a lot less s@#t to deal with in the world. Whether you’re 20, 30, or 60, if you’re stuck—if you’re trying to navigate a shift in your personal, professional or romantic identity—S@#t I’ve Heard at Yoga may help you go from “Now what?” to “What’s next!”

During the yogis’ philosophical monologues that typically open each class, my internal mantra was a persistent and impatient question, “What is this s@#t?” One day, out of the corner of my ear, I heard this bit about “squirrels” in my head. Boom. She’s talking about me. It was then that I started listening to the s@#t I heard at yoga. Over time, and after over-coming my cynicism, I found even greater value in the philosophical and spiritual tidbits peppered throughout class that ultimately shifted my energy from perpetually preoccupied to consistently and dependably calm.

Not surprisingly, this Los Angeles yogi offers up a little cosmetic philosophy. But there’s something to her outside-in advice.

Your face telegraphs exactly what you’re thinking and feeling at any given moment. Similar to how you can flip the orientation on your phone’s camera, you can use your face to be the boss of what you’re feeling.

If I were on death row, my final meal would definitely include a cheese plate.

“Get out of advertising. Go be a freshman in any other business. Do-or-die energy will give you edge. Edge gives you relevance. Relevance is youthful power.”

That guy is a dick, but he gives good advice.

Living in the Hamptons, the price of everything is crazy. But, the bread at Carissa’s is worth every penny and every carb.

Did I hear that correctly?

I had a strong plank pose, but I couldn’t compete with Cher.

A five-minute plank became a new goal.

I needed to work at it. Had to work up to it.

There’s no glory in a pose that incites panic in the body.

When I finally matched Cher on the clock, I slowly lowered myself to the ground and drifted back into wide-legged child’s pose. Breathe in to the count of eight. Hold. Breathe out to the count of eight. Repeat. On the next breath, I said to myself, I’m never doing that again.

And I never have.