there i was twisted up breathing into every sensation my straining limbs had to offer one hand rooted on the mat, the other flying high above when i spied it- a white crescent scar outlined on my foot. vaguely i could remember pain it must have bled, stopping me in my tracks but the story [...]
Winter in Ohio. A wash of dull green, steel gray, lifeless browns and whites. The sky hangs close and I struggle to remember the version of myself who ran before work and grabbed drinks at sunset. The sun isn’t that big of a deal, I think, until it comes back for a few hours here [...]
I write the way I practice yoga. To write, to finally sit down and put myself before the blank paper or the flashing cursor, is half the battle. Just as the road to sitting down on a mat is lined with signs telling me to turn back. I swat away excuses circling me like flies [...]
Bridget Cook 