Yesterday I failed. I mean, in terms of doing yoga. I was busy all day, and had a late dinner with a friend, and our talky talky talky selves stayed up until the wee hours discussing his new girlfriend, my grad school studies, and lots of other stuff. I came home and just couldn't bring myself to unroll the mat. I felt a twinge of guilt, even though I'd done stretches and squats and yoga-like things all day. I didn't do a practice, is the thing, and I felt badly about it. Like I'd failed.

This morning, my body taught me something. Which is this: when I don't do yoga, I hurt more. That's right, I woke up more stiff and achey than I have in a while. Ouch!

I'm counting this as a success, because it has motivated me to practice today, and to drink plenty of water.

In the meantime, I've been doing a lot of schoolwork, preparing for a class I'm TAing this semester, trying to drum up actual paying work, and those types of things that I do every day.

And I'm reminding myself that one always has to do the best one can, realizing that "your best" may change moment to moment.