The yoga conference in Wolverhampton on the future of yoga was wonderful.
Still processing this delight and a video to follow!
The Corpse, without the theatre of explanation.
In the deeper recesses of the savasana, the entirety of experience seems to flatline and then pronounce itself as a gorged landscape without equivocation or relationship.
When a dog dreams a new universe is born.
teaching so forlorn,
marionettes dancing in an electric storm.
The complexion of IS.
An asana as a whispered palliative morsel,
A body who polish their frame.
A club with clothes and mores
shadowy marionettes dancing in an eclectic dorm
Bath daze. Alcohol and caffeine. Thermal spas and the Paras landing on the pitch. Timeless streets. Yoga “meet in reception”. Aggressive man in suit and tie shouts at appalled woman dreaming fitfully in the doorway before he switches to an ingratiating slur. A “Turn down service” for contrived incapacity. The obsequious arts to lull us into purchasing products.
Dizzy wandering in forgotten thoughts. A cloying damaging fog. A fictional landscape scaffolded and walled some centuries ago. We drive away.