“It is through your body that you realize you are a spark of divinity.” ~ B.K.S. Iyengar
I have (nearly) nothing to say about my practice today. Just a moment of it, captured:
Looking at my toes.
My toes that were broken and battered by ballet.
My toes that I fidget with and flex and play when I’m nervous.
My toes that are, right now, incredibly cold.
My toes that I prefer to be shoeless (even in January).
My toes, painted in my favorite color, which—happy accident—matches my mat.
I wanted today to be a day to harness my creativity and put it to work, but it didn’t want to play because I’ve been working too much and haven’t given it much to eat.
A wise man told me earlier that a good writer with nothing to use the gift on is just as much a problem as a having a great idea with no words to convey it. So, I’ll take the rest of my day and feed my muse and play until I’m filled and feel it—all the way down to my toes.
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