my yoga journey
Someone asked me recently if I had been writing during lockdown, for myself at least even if not for sharing. The answer’s pretty much a no, though I’ve thought about it often, and rather wish I had captured the fluctuating tide of thoughts day by day, week by week. Despite rarely venturing more than a... Continue Reading →
That metaphor about the teacher holding a mirror to your practice? I always dread that he'll do it literally one day, knowing my reluctance towards seeing myself practice. Ever since I heard Kathryn Budig talk about her teacher making her practise in shorts rather than leggings as a way of challenging her body issues, I fear... Continue Reading →
The fall? Not the season, transatlantic friends. I'm waiting for the fall that follows pride. Because I'm feeling unusually proud of myself at the moment -- in the balancing acts I'm currently managing, small steps in flowing a little more gracefully along with life, floating over some old obstacles that would have tripped me up... Continue Reading →
I saw an old friend in London this weekend (in between a yoga class and the final day of the Paul Nash exhibition at the Tate -- what a great day!). We had lots of wonderful conversation. One thing that struck me was her comments about her ageing body. She's just about to turn 40 and is... Continue Reading →
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