There is a moment whilst writing when pen and paper or fingers and keyboard become one; when nothing else matters; when the writer is totally absorbed in the present moment and the line between writer and written word disappears completely.
These moments to me are the yoga of writing. If yoga means ‘yoke’ or ‘union’ and yoga is the union of breath and movement, of body and mind, then this moment is the union of me as the writer and the writing itself. There is nothing else but the sound of my heart, my breath and the words forming in my mind and reforming on the paper or screen. There is no monkey mind. There is just writing.
I wish these moments came more often. But as with meditation and asana practice, the moments come and the moments go. We cannot force these moments, we can just allow ourselves to be.
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Which brings me to a question, dear readers. I have read many, many books on yoga over the years; from the ancient texts to modern travelogues of yoga ashrams; from anatomical text books to the poetry of Shiva.
But is the yoga book market saturated? Or do you think there are so many more stories to be told?
(Naturally I am in the second camp. Otherwise I could be wasting my time!)
