Summer is lovely.  I have been awash in other things and writing for a time has been on the backburner, but I miss it.  I can definitely say that I miss it.

In a way it is good, this time of allowing my practice to be nonverbal, to practice before writing.  Sometimes it’s very difficult to choose what to weed and what to water.

When I can get out of my own way enough, the practice flows.  A sequence of postures, memorized and practiced uncounted times, a teacher who assists and corrects.  No Deborah, not correct.  Yes Deborah, that is correct.  I find gratitude at the end of such a practice, a quality that has been sorely lacking in my life.

It is hard to explain.  David Garrigues wrote an article about pain recently, and I can see why.  It’s controversial, his attitude, because obviously pain is real and it is not wise to mindlessly practice through pain that is damaging to the body.

But his point is real too.  Here we are in this cave of wonders, and all we see is the dark and the damp.  We complain to anyone who will listen about our pain.  I do it too.  But there is a time and a place to see pain without identifying with it, to move through the pain and into the cave of wonders.  There are diamonds sparkling there.

I wish I could have met Guruji.


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