This was a yoga-school weekend. Which makes it a BIG weekend. The retreat I went to a few weeks ago was actually part of a much broader teacher-training course I am doing. A six month foundation course to get me a little closer to the heart of things. I don't know that I actually want to teach yoga, to be honest, but I am finding the study so interesting and challenging and - as I had hoped when I signed up a few months ago - very much just what I need. Body and mind. It helps that the team I am studying with are so lovely - 26 amazing people to grow with and stretch with.
The weekends of study are pretty intense, though. A few hours on Friday night, then 7 AM - 5 PM on Saturday and Sunday. Early morning practice, a lot of theory and a lot of teaching. It's nice wearing stretchy pants 24/7, drinking endless cups of tea, and using words like ujjayi and mulabandha in general conversation, but riding my bike home in the rain on Sunday night, my backpack heavy with books and my thighs aching / dying, it all felt enough. These are big weekends, and here on Monday night after a hearty dinner and my washing folded, it feels good to be crawling into bed early.
The picture is from one of my lovely new friends' house - she lives just a block away from the studio and was kind enough to invite a few of us for lunch and a break from all the reading. It's an amazing space that she shares with about five others, though there are hundreds in the old building, some squatting, some renting, some running businesses, some getting in out of the cold. Her kitchen and sunroom were a haven in the middle of the city and warehouses of Surry Hills. Full to the brim of the most interesting art and collections and all that detail that comes from sharing an old space.