Its a hot night in Mexico. I should be studying some asanas and reading about heart opening, instead I am posting. I wonder why I am resisting?
Its hard to find my writing groove here too. I see so many things on a daily basis that I could write about, but its all so diverse and different its hard to know where to start. Perhaps its a sign I need to go internal to some degree and try to write about what's going on with me, but the truth is I hardly know myself. The yoga practise picks me up, stretches me out, turns me upside down and spins me around my centre so much I find myself barely able to walk let alone be able to string together a coherent thought process.
It has struck me today that for the first time in my life there is no real plan. I am not sure how I feel about this.
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