"That's not a job," he said, "that's a lifestyle."
OK fine, then I want that lifestyle.
This week I went back to my mat, for the first time in weeks. I had class with one of my favorite teachers, who always astonishes me with her ability to know what's inside your head. She rarely gives assists, but when I've dragged myself to class because I'm sad, it feels like she's always there next to me. She put a block under my head in pigeon pose. She read us this Rumi poem:
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don't open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.