Raw, adjective: 6. ignorant, inexperienced, or untrained: a raw recruit.

Life these days feels like one big 3-D movie, everything super-sized, leaping from studio to studio, train to trolley car, planning baby showers and bhakti sequences, eating an apple on the run and grabbing a kombucha here and there along the way.

As I prep to leave for Southeast Asia in just over a week, it's funny how very much yoga I've been doing, and not on my mat — rather, the yoga that is training the mind, the choosing how to react, the being still and keeping cool when circumstances might encourage otherwise. Bangkok's under water, you know, so our carefully-laid plans and lovingly-shaped itineraries and long-ago booked flights will need to be rearranged, and soon.

Rivers swell, a city shuts down, so you adjust your tickets, and choose a new destination, and get on the plane. No drama.

Your leg wobbles and your knee buckles and you fall out of Natarajasana smack onto your face, so you stand up, take a deep breath, grab your ankle, and get back in. No drama.

Same thing.

There's your yoga.

That said, all this Thailand prep has meant not as much time as I'd like for books and yoga mats and beloveds and music and, yes, sleep. I'm getting skilled at applying mascara on the moving cable car in the pre-dawn dark. All good. But I find I get a little itchy (ok, crabby) if I'm not able to sweat and scribble for at least a few minutes a day. So I squeeze in the asana here and there (today, a luxurious 2 hour practice and chant session in our living room), and tote a simple Walgreens notebook along in my bag so that I can steal a few minutes to write when inspiration strikes.

The other day, waiting for the train to Oakland, I scribbled this one down. I think it wants to be the first line of a future book.

Then I noticed his perfect nose, and I knew
I could never love him.


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