As Tuesdays go, this one might be unusual, says\u00a0Nicole Hellthaler \u201914 (CLAS).\u00a0She offers that gentle disclaimer, though, not because we\u2019re walking into the county jail in Little Rock, Arkansas, and not because she\u2019s about to lead a clutch of incarcerated men to an unbound plane of stillness and calm.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s because today\u2019s yoga session \u2014 offered by the global nonprofit she leads, Prison Yoga Project \u2014 marks a return to the jail after a few weeks\u2019 yuletide hiatus. Six days into the new year, Hellthaler is thinking about emotional bruises that might linger from the holidays. She\u2019s wondering how the men are adjusting to the return to routine. Some will be joining her class today for the first time, as much of a question mark to her as she \u2014 and maybe yoga itself \u2014 is to them.<\/p>\n
At a raised security station that still wears a wreath, we surrender IDs, lock up everything that\u2019s not a yoga mat \u2014 except my pens, notebook, and voice recorder \u2014 and pass through metal detection.<\/p>\n
After going up in an elevator and down a long series of hallways, we\u2019re let into the outer entrance of a compact two-story housing unit. Hellthaler chirps a good morning to one of the guards in the security roost, and he sends us through a gate into the unit, where the walls stand in a wide V-shape with a staircase down the middle.<\/p>\n
Instantly, a few dozen heads turn, and their eyes seem to lock on to us. Hellthaler, 33, looks at ease under the scrutiny, a sunbeam in loose black workout clothes and color-splashed, guitar-pick-shaped earrings. Trailing behind, I probably look like the shadow of her composure, a bit overwhelmed and sporting a nervous smile.<\/p>\n