My forehead, damp with sweat in Bali’s humid air, was pressed against a stranger’s. We hadn’t even exchanged names. A sob drew my eyes sideways. Two women were crying, their faces crumpled, tears streaming. They’d felt each other’s souls, they explained. “Oh my god,” I thought. “I’ve joined a cult.” We were all dressed in white—30 strangers enrolled in the same yoga teacher training—gathered around a flower mandala. I was desperate to make eye c…
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