What Is At The Back Of Your Palm?
I was accused of being dysfunctional,
And I stood no chance for defense, because sometimes even the mirror in your house can be delusional, giving you imaginary interpretations and mixed images of what you are.
And so every morning you leave your house with a false ego of what you really are. Just because your mirror made you believe you HAVE.
Time passes by deeply rooting and grounding your character, emanating from that false image of what you have built within.
And though you still stand tall in defense of your ego which you should anyway, you draw lines, demarcating yourself made space and that other one, that other one full of possibilities to wake you up from sleeplessness, enlighten and free the prisoner who for years have barricaded themselves behind freedom bars.
Vinyassa power Yoga is and least a practice I can defend, least because everything should be approached with relativity. Though I can’t shout to the rooftop in its advocacy, I can trace years back before I met my mat and I know I am different because I can feel it, I am now convinced that though I might know my palm very well and the lines on it, which would probably help the fortune teller presume my future, yoga has helped me think about the back of my palm, which I hardly ever acknowledged.
If what is I see is what’s mistaken for dysfunction, I still stand no chance for defense but at least I can defend the fact that the backside of my palm might be darker in complexion but it’s still part of my hand and I love it equally,
I have learned to look at my hand, and listen to your opinion with an open heart because my mind is now transformed and disciplined not to use it use too much but to let it be, and yoga did it.
I wouldn’t blame anyone or get too hard on myself, but let no one do themselves the injustice of judging me with yesterday when I am moving on with my vinyasa flow, and carrying my practice like a crucifix .
I am flow.