The Yoga of Life

Part of the reason I don't write much is that I am constantly editing myself (and it is a mostly unpleasant experience). That, and the truth---I am a stormy-weather writer. And today is stormy out, and stormy inside. Since my mom died, I've been prone to sudden and unexpected bouts of grief. They manifest as tears that don't really have meaning. Just a deep sadness. As I attempted to drive with Miles out to the lake for a walk with a friend, it became clear that what I thought was fog was really drizzle. After suiting Miles up in his raincoat, loading him up, and getting on the road, I realized it wasn't a good day to walk. Or talk. Traffic was backed-up, so it took me a while to turn around and head home. But in that time, and even now as I write, one of these unexpected bouts of grief/tears has arrived. The difference between now and a few years ago, is that I'm much more tolerant and accepting of my feelings as they are, even though I don't entire