The undermining line between love and hate, addicted and break of yoga.

Personally speaking, I go through addictions of yoga as well as the annoyance of it. Could one be so harsh or eccentric with the qualms of yoga? Yes, because sadly as much as I can twist and turn my arm convincing otherwise, yoga is to yoke, to union. It doesn't matter how you yoke your life, or create a union of 'feeling blissful', it's a universal concept working it's magic for each individual. 

I'm an extreme person, it's a flaw and blessing, my yin and yang. The drive starts slow and takes trials and tribulations to kick in, and once it does, I go full throttle at the pace I find comfortable to manifest. This year I taught, and I really taught. I taught and learned tremendously of the challenges I was willing to face, the feelings I felt, sacrifice I made, the knowledge I  gained, disappointment, rain, or shine, one or none, austerities and achievements, I really understand yoga in many different avenues versus just the poses I was able to conquer. 

The manifesto of yoga for me some how breaks my writers block by simply just being, and so now where do I begin? I am able to express now, so that's a first, but where to start? The beginning, the kick start of the journey, the recap? I guess I will write my life as it is, random and collectively a smashing array of whatever I feel at that moment to express. The beauty I found of yoga is randomness, it's beauty in it's deviant right to which we accept of what is here and now. What we do with the here and said now, defines you....yes you? Who me? You said you from me to me... Your thoughts are ok to be random and so is your practice. Make sense? But then again what does right? Aaaaaaaah, yoga. Welcome to the blog of a traveling yoginista.