Thirty days of yoga. Complete. Thirty days of writing a daily blog about it. Complete. Once I committed to the challenge and created a routine, I realized this experience was really for me. As hard as I was working, I was the one receiving the benefits. What did it matter to anyone else? Why would anyone be interested in my daily reactions to a self-serving experience? I hope my writing is interesting or inspiring or entertaining, but writing, or more accurately, reading someone’s writing is a fickle thing these days. There are sooooooooooooooooooo many words written in sooooooooooooooo many capacities that no one has the time to read it all. And experiential writing is at the top of this list. We are a world of talking heads, whether we do it on a platform shouting into the wind or we do it in the anonymous realm of the written world. My wish for the future is that we learn to listen more and talk (and write) less. I can count on one hand the truly good listeners that I know. I want to be one of them. I think getting onto our mats in an introspective communal yoga class is a good start. It helps us slow down enough to listen, to notice, and to pay attention with our mouths shut. Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night. Namaste.