Three events over the last few weeks have helped me to re-consider my approach to telling the truth. You know that moment when your wife comes out in a new dress, as you are getting ready to go out for a celebration dinner. The moment you see it you think it is hideous and she asks you if she looks good in it. You stand in thought for a moment—not too long otherwise she will know something is wrong—deciding whether to tell the truth. The problem is deciding what the truth is, and deciding how to say it to her.
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My local Yoga Studio started a Men’s Yoga Class. It was mostly men who were new to Yoga and who struggled with the postures. Men tend to be strong but stiff, we tend to be overweight and are not used to exploring this in the company of others. We were a far cry from the nimble women you see in the Yoga books, but we struggled on, taking care of our damaged joints. We stretched and still appeared to be immobile. I loved that my body started moving again.
In my life I have been a seeker. As a teenager I sought a spiritual answer to an unknown question. I tried to understand where to look for the answer. What did I want? Why was I even looking? In the different approaches I tried, from Christianity to Yoga, I found many ideas to pursue, but no solutions.
It is the middle of winter in Spain and it is cold. Living in a typically Spanish house I live without central heating. There is a single wood burning stove in the centre of the house that heats the whole house. It is my job to keep the fire burning and well maintained. Part of this job is to clean the front glass when needed.