Just because I don’t write about asana often, doesn’t mean I am not practicing. The storm was just beginning. Longtime student and friend A came over to practice. We did hot water bottle restoratives, inviting ourselves to return our attention to the warmth whenever our minds got too busy.
I’m cleaning out a drawer that had held an odd collection of pieces of paper with writing on them. Most of them I am tearing up into little pieces to feed the worms (who last night arrived alive, though dehydrated and groggy and are now set up as directed).