Right now, the struggle is not what interests me. What has caught my attention is a "Strange Brew," a mix of moments of creativity and energy and questions which the teacher training has brought back to my life. For years, I've immersed myself in art and craft; besides my fibre work, I loved to draw and paint and play with various media. I lost that a while back, partly due to circumstances beyond my control, but mostly through neglect. "Use it or lose it," holds true with almost anything we encounter and it was certainly true of my creative skills. I could hear that small voice calling, "Come back. Take a look. Just a peek." but I've been ignoring it as best I could.
No more. In the past months, I've stopped my usual habitual practice of copious note-taking in favour of drawing stick figures in my yoga journals. Our assignment to study the Bhagavad Gita has lead to a couple of doodled books for my (grown) children. While I'm making an effort to learn the muscles and bones involved in particular poses, something keeps telling me to look beyond the structure, to discover, well, what that is, I'm not sure.
I may not ever be a "real" yoga teacher. I don't know what that would mean. I do know that I've swallowed a concoction that's bringing me back to what I've been missing for a long time.
This morning, I started a tapestry diary. The light keeps changing: