One month. Four weeks. I've been here four weeks. 28 days. In that time, I've become the kind of person who gets up at three-thirty, takes a cold shower and hikes up a hill to go do yoga for two hours. I then eat breakfast. Usually fruit, because I get full so quickly and then I go to a field and do another hour of yoga if I don't have to work. After that, I wander around or go swimming or go read. Today I feel like writing. I really desire putting words to paper.
A few nights ago, I dreamed that I sent an email to everyone in Philly telling them that I'd transformed and was done and ready to go home. I woke laughing. I will not be the same person who left. Today, I decided to just pretend that I'm on vacation and relax. No pursuit of transformation today for me. But I will write.
People tell me I'm beautiful all the time here. Someone thought I was teaching a dance class. I think that's kind of interesting. A few days ago, one of my friends here actually told me that she's jealous of me. No one has ever been jealous of me. Not even me. I thought I'd feel so out of place hre amongst all these beautiful yoga types. And there are many, but I fit in just fine. Very well actually. I made friends. I'm off to help another friend pack up her tent. I applied to work full time here until November.
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