Thank you.
Thank you for the yoga, my Guruji Iyengar, travel buddies and Ukulele time. Thank you for all of the Gods in the air, in the cows, in the smiles, under my nails. Thank you for the songs you've inspired, the tears, the blood, the sweating in excess. Thank you for the pranayama, the mudras, the philosophy that has changed my life. Thank you for Lungis, and Idlis, and scooting around. Thank you for the romance, and the enforced time alone/ coupled. Thank you for all the lessons I have to learn every day, for the street boys I battle, for the crazy full and new moons. Thank you for all the weird yogis from all over the world I have met, and for the oddly boring parties that have served as awesome performance opportunities. Thank you for the pool, for all my sunburns that have almost evenly tanned my hide, for the romance and the magic. Thank you for the digestive problems that have thoroughly cleaned out my emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual systems. Thank you for breaking both of my Ipods for no apparent reason, and forcing me to play more music. Thank you for the beautiful garbage and the coconut men and the constant holiday celebrations. Thank you for the market, and Indra Cafe, and Joe and Dave and Nok and Ness and Nigel and Annie and Mark and...Thank you for Poni and power outages and dancing and sleeping and walking and laughing and crying. Thank you for making things clear to me. Clear-er at least. Thank you for the yoga teaching certificate and for the meditating. Thank you for all of the droning days that go so quickly and slowly. Thank you for making me feel at home here, finally. Thank you for giving me a break. Thank you for being awesome and horrible and amazing and boring and accomidating and supportive and for kicking my ass.
See you next year, maybe.
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