Yep. Even The Oatmeal.
My yoga practice feels like training for motherhood.
How to bend, not break. How to be gentle. How to not throw things. How to laugh instead of freak out. How to not mind oatmeal in my hair. How to take a deep breath and start over. Again. And again.
Atha yoga anusasanam.
The yoga begins. Here. As we are.
Unshowered. Tired. Loving. Loved.