It is getting harder and harder to write at the moment. Partly I don't know what to say and partly I feel to self-aware to say it. Looking back at last year's entries during month two, I see a similar pattern. Things start to get very internal where language starts to disappear. Or maybe now I feel differently about the whole thing. I don't really want to share things with everyone, just a few people...
So then, what does one write about when you want to share something personal but can't spare the details? Bugs. I can write about bugs.
We have an ant problem in our house. (Is it really a "problem"?) We followed the ants from the grains shelf to a few different possible entry points. My roommate poured muesli over his pancakes only to be disgusted by the multitude of ants crawling in out and around the oat clusters.
Last night on my way out of the bathroom I spied a second cockroach. I couldn't bring myself to kill it. I looked at it, it looked at me. I wonder where the little guy was headed...
I'm covered in mosquito bites from head to toe. Not even the bottom of my middle toe was spared. I now have maybe the shortest practice in the shala--or so it seemed--as I found myself in the women's dressing room all alone with the breeze and the mosquitoes. There I was in shoulderstand variations waving my arms like a mad person at the mosquitoes that buzzed around my head. I read in National Geographic that 1.) mosquitoes know the target they are heading for from an impressive distance 2.) hot, sweaty, lactic acid infused post-vigorous exercise bodies are their favorite victims.
I tell myself that I am going to withdraw my senses, that everything is God, that if I don't acknowledge them they don't exist. But then I hear the buzzing become louder and louder and I can't hold it in any longer so I swat and swat and swat.
PS-Again, yesterday in conference, Sharath emphasized that part of the practice is reading yogic texts. Specifically, he said it was a good idea to start with the Bhagavad Gita.
