scenes from a couch

Sick. Holy cow, so sick. Listening to 'Great Lake Swimmers' to remind me of my lake, wearing my brightest pink pants to make me happy, cuddled under my favourite blue blanket to keep me cozy, drinking the wonder drink because it's wonderful, reading books old and new to keep me company and ignoring the outside world from my cozy nest of sickness.













I'd planned to go out and take pictures of christmas lights tonight. I'm headed south soon and I'll miss the crazy chaos of twinkling lights against the snow but even pretty lights couldn't tempt me outside today. I'm willing myself to get better for tomorrow so I can practice with the teachers teacher before we both leave for our various trips, it will be months before I'll have the opportunity to learn from him again.

I've been thinking a lot about my practice. About dogma, about rigidity, about respecting tradition in a way that supports the beautiful, transformative experience the practice could be instead of the disempowering practice it also could be, about authorization, about teachers trusting their students and supporting students to trust themselves but I can't figure out how to do it in the most diplomatic way. I'm not interested in getting caught up in yoga politics. I am interested in getting on my mat and practicing.

Yoga politics aside, to be this happy, this content, this fully present is something amazing. This has been a transformative year in the most awesome way imaginable.