Global Warming is not a joke.

Meanwhile back at the Yoga Studio...

Every Saturday morning, I hit my snooze button for 1 hour starting at 7:30am- much to Brandon's chagrin-shock myself out of bed- and participate in "workstudy" at my local Yoga Studio. I work for four hours (give or take 20 mins) in exchange for FREE classes. This seems like the best thing- however, the fact that I work almost 45 minutes away from the studio & where I live make it cumbersome, instead of easy, to get to a FREE class.

So I sit here, checking people in, meeting different workstudy students and learning a little bit more about life. Its the best part of my week- and I don't get traditional compensation for it-and I like that, and I am sure that is where some of its appeal lies. I feel that my time is adequately compesated for what I am putting out.

I spend time on Gmail, Facebook and the like..but the times I spend talking to the women that I meet are invaluable. I feel connected to the larger clan of WOMAN, and that, as a childless woman of child bearing age, is comforting to my heart.

So thanks to Heidi & the brave women (& men) at Fresh Yoga, for making this comfort possible. Check them out... www.freshyoga.com

Its interesting how the human body mourns loss. Some consider death the only true loss. But we forget exactly HOW much loss one truly experiences on a day to day basis. Perhaps a shift in our perspective would aide in accepting loss all the time, freeing ourselves from the confinement of "hope" or "belief" that things are different than they really are. Because here's the secret, we are not weighed down by our failings or otherwise.....we are reborn, renamed something that we can claim as our own device. They are not inherently negative, humanity, religion they have prescribed to us that to fail is to be bad. To succeed is to be good.

I don't agree, and will not accept this as truth.

I learn nothing from success, and everything from my failures.

Just something to consider. Maybe I'm wrong...

I can hear the train from where I sit on the floor of my living room. Cold air drifts through the gaps in the turn-of-the-century floor boards as my dog snores quietly behind me on the couch. Dreaming. And I wonder if dogs ever have nightmares- and do they make sense? Are they existential, obtuse & morally askew. Are they just primordial- fight or flight reponses to instinct. Don't know, and now I am bored with that thought. I consider the weight of my eyelids, and blink before I turn in for the night.