On the fourth of July I used to dress up in a bespoke, multi-layered dress that really belonged on an immigrant from early 1800s-era America. I’d then jump in a car and head down to Historic Fort Snelling, in Saint Paul, Minnesota, where my parents were historical re-enactors-and so was I.
Now that I’ve left the home front, I don’t quite know how to relate to the 4th. There aren’t exactly a whole lot of obvious tie-ins when you write for a yoga website. And at the Himalayan Institute, where I live, I can definitely say that there are no patriotic speeches, no two-day pig roasts, and no third-rate farces. No re-enactor will shout at me about Great Britain while pork fat drips down his face and small pieces of meat fly to the ground as he jabs at the air with a pig’s head on a sword.