...the style of yoga i practice is unbeknownst to me... it's me... a hodgepodge... a wrinkle in time... a splatter of paint that reflects the fragmented ball of glass shard that the impacts of migration and community-less-ness can construct...
...no guru other than the Guru... although i've accepted my mom as my guru... recognizing through life experience that Realness is in selfless action... in those who live Truth instead of intellectualizing it... those Connected to ancient Ways with contiguity...
...gurus are essential... the modern frequency keeps everyone in a state of iblis... of the refusal to bow... i namaste several times a day... my head in Surrender... and yoga will teach you to do this to one another... to keep it humble... only in humility can you receive a guru and grow from the teachings...
...i do love intellecturals... those who do wit their thoughts... chris hedges... noam chomsky... cornell west... arundhati roy...
...i love writers in how they push our boundaries... require us to reimagine what any of this means...
...i love You... even if it doesn't always seem that way...
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