Since this is a personal log, a place where I can write and post photos, to remember what is going on in any given circumstance.
I can also choose the style to write in to a personal poetic meandering of words.
So, here it goes...every time I want to "write" the flow from the heart stops and a cold, calculating wind blows across my inner vision.
All kinds of thoughts are flying through my brain scape..."you don't know anything...why do you think this is important...when has anything important happened in your life?"...so belittling, so discouraging...so untrue.
In order to be undisturbed by these lie-bites, I need to close the windows and the door to my inner sanctum.
Enter the Heart of writing...and document what is alive.
I see seeds of passion, a passion so uplifting and inspiring to people who come to seek a lift.
In form of yoga and movement sessions...indoor or outdoor...with music or in silence...incense or fresh meadow country air...simultaneoulsy soothing and invigorating.
I see a large space, with filtered light,
bright...clear and clean...the floor wide open...smudged with dhoop.
Good audio system with I.pod dock.
Golden orange mango light.
Mirrors surrounding us on three sides.
Plants flourishing in a corner.
An altar to the Divine. Candle lit.
We begin by sitting in silence, we breathe, we move slowly and deliberatly.
We merge into alignment with purpose and intention.
This is my classroom, this is my gift, this is what I want to exprience.
This is what I want to give to those who come.
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