As a student of tennis, my expectation of progress has been highly biased. From lesson to lesson with a racquet in my hand, the progress is discernible, not just from session to session, but even throughout a session itself. It’s a continuous ego boost; a potent drug with no harmful side effects. Yoga is the opposite.
With Abla wordlessly by my side, and me by hers, we’re both moving with a new kind of energy. An energy that represents time we have generously given ourselves without conditions or guilt. Few things feel better.