My blog has annoyingly changed to Spanish as the the language for all the details and instructions. I am not impressed. I am still jet lagged, hence in part the lack of posts, the other reason is my arms are so tired it hurts to lift them.

I have been immersed in yoga. Two classes a day. I confront myself, all of myself on my mat, sadly this includes the bits I don't like so much and would rather ignore and pretend they dont exist. At 8.30 am and 6 pm I am on my mat. I sit crossed legged and focus and meditate on my breath. I move to four points and make cat and dog tails. Then, slowly, the flow starts, and the magic starts to happen.

Stand upright, arms above head, open your heart, breath in with a slight backward bend. Fold forward, exhale. Half lift, breath in. Forward fold. Chaturanga. Exhale. Upward dog, inhale. Roll over your toes. Exhale. Downward dog. Breathe.

This is the litany of my life. The chant of my practise. It has become the pulse to my days. The vinyasa.

I am struggling with balance poses at the moment. I can't seem to focus. There is too much personal, unresolved stuff going on in my head. It will come. The yoga is in the practise.

I can feel my body changing. Appreciating that I am spending more time connected to it. I can feel the pull of tendon, the tweak of ligament, the increase in strength, the slimming down of my waist. My body is revelling in the space within it the yoga practise is creating. I am walking differently. Moving differently. Feeling calmer most of the time.

Things are changing, both within me and externally, I am trying, unsucessfully, not to think about it too much. I need to keep on practising. Let the flow of the vinyasa do what it does. Observe. I feel incredible grateful to be here. I wish I had done this years ago.