Changes.


It is perfect out today, internet. It is startling beautiful. It is on of those days that makes me want to write poetic things about how scintillatingly blue the crystalline waters of the lake are. I’ve been sitting like a lump in the sunshine for the past three hours, curled up on the hot earth like a lizard trying to absorb the last precious hours of sunlight.

mmmmmmmmmmm

mmmmmmmmmmm

Which, in perfect essence, is exactly what I was trying to do, because I totally could smell fall in the air this morning, which is a weird thing to say but if you tell me you don’t know what I mean by that you are either very unintuitive or a dirty liar. 

When the seasons are changing to change, I always feel… something. I don’t really know how to explain it. It’s like a stirring in my blood. It’s the urgent need to do something productive clashing heads with the urgent need to not do anything at all. It’s most importantly the deep rooted feeling that life is changing, even if those changes are so incandescently, intangibly small they’re not changes at all.

Maybe it’s an evolutionary holdover from when our great-great-great-many-other-greats-great ancestors used to migrate or whatever. It probably has a lot more to do with the students coming back from summer break and me still feeling like I’m one of them and that I should be doing productive school type things. Still I feel restless and itchy and weirdly emotional. Like, I could probably cry over a particularly beautiful cloud or something.

Probably not, but you get the point.

Anyways, the yogic side of me is invested in change. Life changes, constantly.

Duh.

Change is unpredictable, and sometimes caustic and terrible and blah blah blah. Embrace the stirring in your blood. Clean your room. Go do yoga. Take the garbage out. Write a novel. Walk in nature. Smell a flower. Smell many.

Is this yogic enough yet?

Oh, wait here we go.

So yogic.

So yogic.

Right now, the moment is a glass of wine on my porch.

You go be in your own damn moment.

 

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