She’s some kind of Waxwing I think – the angel that sings to me every day. I like to imagine that she’s singing for me of course knowing full well that her song belongs to no one. Her sweet melody seems to appear at the most critical moment – I’m grumbling about homework or housework, I’m sad about the rain or feeling isolated at home with a bored toddler. Her songs shock me into presence, into a new cadence that renews the moment. I am astounded by her ability to shift my outlook, I’m astounded, equally, by the fact that I let her. This is an angelic moment: the interface between an outside force and.
Countless people have remarked how if only they had discipline they would practice yoga more regularly. Discipline can be good, sometimes. And sometimes it can be ego’s way of promising guilt, self-flagellation and a spiritual life that is controlled by will – which is no spiritual life at all.It’s hard not to think about discipline as a sought after quality of the most successful people in the world. We respect the discipline of athletes, soldiers, business people and fitness gurus. And in the name of producing a well-oiled human machine, discipline in this sense is really a formidable feat. The question is: can we come to know our spiritual self through the same means.