Yoga for me and perhaps many of you, has a way of breaking me down. Sometimes it seems to come from out of the blue. Asana or simple breathing will bring me to tears (of joy or sorrow) unexpectedly and I think, “What am I crying for?”

Our souls are balloons. Mine was filled with yogic air. Stretched and expanded I had space. Consistently growing, I was space.

“Do not look directly at it!” are the shouts you can hear from a gang of warriors attempting to slay the monster Medusa. One look at this dreadful creature in the eyes and you turn to stone. Snake haired and mortal hating, she was a force to reckon with.

I think I may be my soul right now, a bit outside of my limbs.

I’d drown in this water if I wasn’t made of it. My body is a tear on God’s right cheek.

The life you feel warming your solar plexus like butterfly hums. A tingling during brief moments of paused thought and all of a sudden you know you're on the right track.

I’ve loved myself today. In this Paschimottanasana. This Body Hug.