I wonder why it is that I continue to do my yoga practice even when my life is a cut apart black ribbon in the waste can.I wonder why I continue to do yoga when the seams of my existence are angels wih a vengence. I wonder why I continue to do yoga when my heart thinks it will never move again, when my toenails smell like vodka without the alcohol, when the avalance guns at the ski area single another season and reverberate advance echos of my death.

I wonder why it is that I continue to do my yoga practice no matter the sting of the wasp, the smell of Venice, the mundane cup of Earl Grey tea without sage honey or the cramped moment in each waking hour.

I wonder…