But a series of moments

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What is this thing called life? The existence we walked through day by day hour by hour minute by minute? And is it really the second by second that counts?

I often begin a yoga class, scanning myself to become aware of who I am right at that moment. Who I am emotionally spiritually and physically. But what does that really mean? I am not my goals I am not my career. Am I as transient as my emotions? As scattered as my thoughts?

I am energy. Creative and destructive.

That is so abstract I’m not sure what that means. I understand creating and destroying… But I may not understand the reason behind it. But I love where my imagination takes me. Creating and destroying, That dichotomy is infinite… And then so am I.

What is this thing called reality? Is my reality the same as your reality,

Every time I walk onto a yoga mat I’m reminded that I’m in a moment. And that moment is the only moment I will ever have like that moment. It is unique. It is an experience and an expression of who I am at that moment. I am the conglomerate of all of my experiences thoughts emotions up to that point.

I am but a series of moments.

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