Most of life consists in the parts we can’t wait to be done with.
I post this in the middle of a yoga session, that as usual is evoking unwanted but still present emotions. They are bills that are due, and yoga is my bill collector. Still, I don’t want to pay them. So I write.
But, as I noted long ago, in some respects I have learned to make at least a small virtue of my countless retreats.
And of course, I’m going back into the breech. I will finish what I started.