I love the uncomfortable place I am in. I love the mystery of not knowing how I’ll get to the next pose. I love that I could choose to neglect the garden of movement but that I choose to inhabit the uncomfortable mystery of watering seeds, flexing with the weeds, and waiting to see what wonders flourish. I love the sounds of nearby gardeners working on their own mysteries. Their movement nourishes my own. Their occasional glances over at my garden scatter sunlight on my pursuit.
Read MoreOne light, two lights
Two bright
Oh light, how bright
Makes light more light