I just came out of two weeks of training, tucked into a lush, green, super-sukha pocket of Bali.
As the students left, I told them: “Move slow. The world is happening out there. With a kind of fury.”
And quickly, the world said: yep.
Within hours, I crossed paths with a dog— skin draped over bones, moving like a ghost, I think he was blind. I fed him. I cried & felt helpless.
I drove through the rice fields, my heart wobbling, to one of the most beautiful places I’ve stayed in here, (and that’s saying a lot) nestled in the hills & rice fields.
I opened my phone. There’d been an earthquake in Myanmar. Thousands gone, in a country already on its knees.
My friend got word about her half-sister— young, fading, trapped in the slow loss of ALS.
The birds were singing, proud and beautiful. The sunset was absolutely astonishing.
All at the same time.
It’s an almost unbearable both/and. The world moves— in rage, in sorrow, in its wild unraveling. And also in beauty, in tenderness, in its radiant excess.
Joy and devastation. All of it true. Absurd. Gorgeous. Real
COLE CHANCE YOGA
Wonder isn’t a luxury.
Delight isn’t fluff.
Curiosity isn’t decoration.
They’re survival skills.
Sanctuary tools.
I just came out of two weeks of training, tucked into a lush, green, super-sukha pocket of Bali.
As the students left, I told them:
“Move slow. The world is happening out there. With a kind of fury.”
And quickly, the world said: yep.
Within hours, I crossed paths with a dog—
skin draped over bones, moving like a ghost, I think he was blind.
I fed him. I cried & felt helpless.
I drove through the rice fields, my heart wobbling, to one of the most beautiful places I’ve stayed in here, (and that’s saying a lot) nestled in the hills & rice fields.
I opened my phone.
There’d been an earthquake in Myanmar.
Thousands gone, in a country already on its knees.
My friend got word about her half-sister—
young, fading, trapped in the slow loss of ALS.
The birds were singing, proud and beautiful.
The sunset was absolutely astonishing.
All at the same time.
It’s an almost unbearable both/and.
The world moves— in rage, in sorrow, in its wild unraveling. And also in beauty, in tenderness, in its radiant excess.
Joy and devastation.
All of it true.
Absurd. Gorgeous. Real
2 weeks ago | [YT] | 126