A warm, sunny morning: she’s teaching V & I how to do the kettlebell snatch. “You jerk it like this, the kettlebell, right up in front of your chest like you’re painting-yahh!”
“Form will protect you,” she says. I’m thinking about this the rest of the day.
You have no right to the fruits of your actions, only your actions themselves.
This is the form. Meditation, softness. Gratitude. The form protects you.
Still, what a shitty week. Blagh.
This is a wild soul-book