Tibetan painting at Bayalakuppe, India
The students I love the most are the ones who are broken and beaten yet unbowed. The survivors and the addicts. The humbled and hurting, the kind that sometimes laugh at death and always laugh at life.
Old young fit fat doesn't matter. I like the one's with the devil on their tail and their ego in a bucket somewhere back in whoknowswhere. I love my wounded warriors. Give me 10,000 more so we can help each other, clean it up bit by bit, breath by breath, one day at a time.
This yoga is daily trial by fire type of sadhana. Spirit world ancient undeniable. Keep on burning for that third eye fire.
Awakening that which is not. Unfettered by the fear, the eternity. In awe, in gratitude we actively and consciously surrender. Imagination opens Opening another drop of sweat. One more. One more. One more. a subtle smile as we enjoy the maturated taste of bitter sweet.
Cheers to all of you who face your fears even in tears continuously through years and years...
What an amazing post from PJ Heffernan - all heart and soul. It gets to the true passion at the core of Ashtanga and all things—of life. It makes me want to jump and shout. Pure poetry—pure truth!
It is so easy for me, all or us—I would guess—to avoid fears in the comfortable familiarity and safety of our nicely arranged lives here. In a little over a week I will discard most or all of (my) usual ways of avoiding the uncomfortable as I experience a culture both bitter and sweet (as they all are) made intensely more so because it is not my own.
So thank you Mother India, though you are neither more wonderful nor horrible than my own culture—I will land in your midst and see you and myself with new eyes that will not and cannot turn away....
...with my ego in a bucket
breath by breath
metta metta metta