Learning to live with myself...

I've been having a summer fling with Bikram Yoga. My usual ashtanga practice doesn't seem to mind, so it's OK. It's been a love/hate affair. Most days I want to run crying from the 105 degree plus room and call it a good session if I manage to talk myself out of escaping. It's good practice for the possibility that there is an afterlife and I could find myself spending it in a lake of fire and brimstone for not managing to believe in just the right set of dogma. Yesterday was the first session in which I managed to complete all 26 postures  from start to finish in spite of my monkey mind that would look ahead and say things like, "OK, I'll do bhujangasana (cobra), but there's no way in hell you're getting me to do bow." And then, "Fine. Bow. I'll hold on to my feet but I'm only kicking back a little." To finally, "Bow." Giving it 100 % effort in spite of my whining. This was a taste of practicing no aversions, no preferences. What's the Nike slogan? Just Do It? I just did it. As I left the studio I let out a large, audible, contented sigh and the man leaving behind me said, "Now let's go live our lives!" I couldn't have said it better myself.