1:48PM

I’m sitting in Starbucks (don’t judge me) and there are two kids in the corner having a fit. I just finished taking a class and teaching two and am on a break now until three more this evening. Yoga Life is Real on Wednesdays. (Ha, “Yoga Life” – what does that even mean? The practice of Yoga IS the practice of Life — )

So here I am, on Yoga Life Wednesdays and that whole noise thing I was talking about in yesterday’s post is real. As the kid in the corner screams and the frappuccino machine goes off I take the first sip of my Mystic Mint tea and ground into my center / seat (sidenote – hello peppermint-spearmint deliciousness in my mouth, you’re incredible). I taste it and remember Japan, the peppermint phase the staff went through, the large glass jars we’d (I’d?) carry around the lodge with lemon and double tea bags, boxes stashed in the back that would accidentally never get put out for guests…

10:01PM

Six classes down and that’s a wrap for my Wednesday. Unexpected and soft tears on the phone to my sister lead to having to get off the phone to write to confusion on who I’m writing this all for anyways in pondering the content to share. Figuring out how to express yourself via word / via social media / via blogging is a really interesting process, especially when you’re expansively multifaceted, genuinely open and surprisingly private. I’m just a quiet person sometimes (a lot of the times), a hermit, a lone wolf, a snail, a caterpillar. I dwell within. I’ve spent most of my life inhabiting my shell and seeing just how damn cozy I could get being alone in it. And this confuses some people who don’t see it, some people who only catch me when I’m Up and Out and Hello World. I had a prana healing session recently and she told me when I’m feeling okay I have enough energy to be Out and with people, but when I’m feeling low I struggle to show up Out There because I’m using all of my energy suppressing my emotions, specifically, she said, a memory. I’ve had a few people allude to there being a certain memory I need to release / heal but to be honest I have yet to figure out what moment from my past they’re talking about.

The thing about food is that it’s impermanent. It doesn’t last. It’s impermanent and I wonder if my anger at it is really just misdirected emotion from my inner child wanting Forever to exist, wanting permanence to be real and for Fantasy and Perfection to build their walls around me in (false) protection. I’m still angry that it’s false. I’m still angry that in the end we’re alone, that things have to be hard, that there are no assurances, ever, that Nothing Gold Can Stay. And I know this is actually part of where so much magic happens, and so much healing and power and freedom occurs, and that if I could just get on board with non-attachment I’d actually find the fullness I’ve been thirsting for, etc etc etc – except, I’m sometimes still dealing with the sticky stuff and that’s just the truth of it.

(Instant gratification is a real downfall too you guys. It’s ridiculous! It’s real and ridiculous.)