Dosa oh dosa

In the back of a rickshaw on the way to Laxmipurum, I am reflecting on the last few months in India. I have been busy but with what? What have I been doing? At the moment, my laptop is in my bag with open documents to be edited, revised, torn to pieces, and put together again. It feels like what's happened to me since August. Or maybe before that.

Everyday has been "okay good morning" who are you? what do you want? how do you think? why do you behave the way you do? what are your skills? what are your weaknesses? what are you doing? Every day. I feel edited, revised, torn to pieces, and put together again. I couldn't have planned it better if I tried.

I left New York thinking I knew what I wanted: long-term independent travel. But really I think what I wanted was the space to change. Here I have had the opportunity to really do the work it takes to begin to scratch the surface of what it means to understand myself, the world, and how I fit into it. The journey has brought both pleasure and pain, but the lessons I have learned along the way will stay with me for the rest of my life. Or at least that it is how it feels now.

I am putting all of my energy and focus into this job hunt. I am actually excited about it. I have unconsciously let the Livingmysore fade to the background, and sadly the blogging has faded slightly as well. What can I say? It is what it is. So what Will I do? What will my profession be? Don't know yet. I do know that I don't plan on teaching full-time. I do know that I want to find a position, whatever it is, that values me as me at a company that I feel happy and proud to be a part of. Vague, I know, but ripe with potential.

Yesterday was the moon day (so no practice) and today was led primary series. It was so soft and soothing (or maybe it was just my state of mind) after a week of second to karandavasana. Every time I get a new pose, my body and practice feels it. Poses feel different, I get sore, tired, and achy. Today's practice was just what I needed.

And when I am not crashing onto my butt from karandavasana, winning writing cover letters, or avoiding making my ticket change for December, I am becoming a first-rate connoisseur of the Mysore South Indian set dosa. It is an art really.