Even now, when I’m broke, stuck, depressed, I still manage to hold my head up high, thoroughly maintaining my hard-earned level of resistance. This dark pervert part in me has the lead, still. It is crazy, mad, irresponsible, but so fucking strong and powerful; it’s holding the reins of my life ...
Savasana is where appropriate reasons to be on the floor meet the gut-wrenching ones. It’s such a skillful, shocking, relevant, underestimated Yoga pose, don’t you think? The most regulated way of being a body on a floor flirting with death.
My list started small and kept growing and will continue to grow. This space of calm is like the wingspan of a great blue heron, gliding across the stillness of a channel. It expands and releases and touches, creating ripples to the four corners of a universal web. Our effort to keep pushing ...
It is because of our mistakes that we grow and travel away from the pigeonholed demise of what we’ve been told. We acknowledge our sad and painful stories then step aside from defending, clinging and holding onto an endless swirl of reconciliation.
As the nights grow crisp and the air is a splash of freshness, something inside of me wants to savor the art of folding inwards. The intrigue of this alluring state is incredibly stirring. To check my reality, I blink to make sure I can find a way to match the pause and rhapsody.
There is no definitive timeline. Love is timeless and never-ending, and so are the remains of friendships and love. It is truly the only thing that remains from our lives, our connections and how we impacted people. It is never a grand definition of character but all the small moments that remain.