For once I want to draw and I don't want it to be about symmetry or shape. I want it to be blurred and foggy and mildly reminiscent of intangible, unidentifiable memories. I want to paint, not with a brush, but with my fingers and a knife, and I want to not care about the outcome. Once, again, I wish to be a word stuck at the back of the head that becomes a whole story, and then a whole new life, a whole new existence, a whole new me.
Inhale. Exhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaale. Inhale. Exhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaale. Inhale deeeeeeply. Hold your breath.
*And never ever let go.*
"Life starts with a deep inhalation which triggers the baby's first cry, and ends with a long exhalation at the time of death. So life is just the space between a deep inhalation and a long exhalation. And when we do Pranayam, we try to bring in this life, this prana." Such an astoundingly beautiful analogy!
I have brought some discipline to my life. Long walks, Yoga classes(finally), visiting and teaching in a school on the weekends, and right diet. Yet, something is amiss. Something elementary.
I am unable to write, or frame sentences. I will have to wait. It will come back. It always does.