Gilead

I'm sitting here with no makeup on, my hair stuck back in a ponytail, in my batman pajama pants drinking a glass of wine and I feel this burning desire in my chest for honesty. I wish we were sitting face to face in my living room, watching the twinkling lights of my Christmas tree (that I once hated because they are coloured lights and I had a big meltdown in Canadian tire because I wanted the white lights but now I secretly love the coloured ones). I would hand you a glass of wine and I would talk in a way that isn't always possible on a public platform. I just recently celebrated my birthday and for the first year in a while there was no big deal about my birthday. it was another day, a Monday. I had to work, I went to yoga, I went to the recovery group we're a part of at the local church. I celebrated with my husband on Sunday but was too stuck in my head about making everything work that it didn't feel like my birthday. I celebrated with my family on Tuesday but ...

I've hesitated even writing this now because I want to savour the magic, to process it fully, to try and begin understanding the events of this past weekend. But my heart is also bursting with excitement and I want to tell anyone and everyone who will listen. Maybe this will be the first post of many, the first stage of the unpacking, or maybe this will be the only post I write on this particular event. But its a story and its burning in my chest and I need to write it. This past weekend was buti training. I've talked about buti before but for those of you who don't know anything about it you can get a quick intro here . I've written and rewritten this post trying to find the right words but I don't know if there are any. I don't know where to start, where to begin with this story. I wrote before about my buti beginnings, how my first class took my breath away (literally and figuratively) and I knew there was something in this practice for me. Since pract...