I skipped yoga all last week; exhaustion was more important than my spiritual and physical uplifting.  Today, I could very well practice yoga.  Physically, anyway.  The thought of actually going and performing makes me tired.  Much more pleasant to go home, have a beer, sit quietly, and … sit quietly.

Apparently I am faced with the choice of burning away my torpor or the slower flame of the Pint Glass Asana.


Crossposted from Epinepherine & Sophistry