Day twenty-nine. And these words, by Walt Whitman, come to me:
“This is what you shall do: love the earth and the sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning god, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful and uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air in every season of every year of your life, re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body…”
Each moment throughout the past twenty-nine days has been a great gift. I am so keenly aware of the blessing my life is. Through the busy and the stress, through the fluctuations of my mind and heart, I know that each moment is one to give thanks for. My practice and I have come together in such a loving way. I understand now, what my practice means to me, and how it serves my higher self. My mat has become a place of sacred. It is a place to work it out. To sit and breath. To both move and be still. This is where I come to find balance, when it all feels too much.
My practice is an expression of my devotion.