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