Sitting at central station in the morning dark, watching everyone else going home, I thought I was committing myself to a disciplined yoga practice and that it would define me as a good yoga teacher. I should get up early and ‘do’ yoga every day, the longer I dedicated to it the better…
My beautiful yoga teacher pointed out, if I really wanted to know how my yoga was going I should take a look at my relationships, that’s where yoga plays out. Yoga is the relationship between things, the parts of our self and our environment.
My yoga isn’t contained inside the right angled boundaries of a blue (or pink!) yoga mat; it spills off into my life. Yoga happens at the cliff’s edge after my run in the bush, in my busy kitchen, frustrated at my desk and inside the rhythm of my breath and the pauses in between.
This is a little space (like a yoga mat), where I write curious ramblings. In letting the words and ideas behind them percolate, I hope they will strengthen like a rich marinade and seep into the rest of my day as my yoga does.