I hate house hunting, the feeling of not knowing when and where I'll be "home." Living out of my suitcase, without a regular schedule, and no mailing address, things are very unstable around here.
In this time of instability, I am thankful for the regular hours I've logged on my daily yoga and writing practices. As you can see in the previous post, sometimes my writing office has been a little funky..(that particular photo came from a day Motel 6 was home and the dog and I were momentarily evicted for room cleaning), but it's been comforting to have my writing to go to day in and day out.
Similarly, now that I'm back in town, classes with my favorite teachers have been kicking my butt, giving me that old, comforting feeling of a body pushed hard.
These are comforts. These are anchors when everything else around me seems to be moving.
What they are not, however, is glamorous or magic. It's the reassurance given by habit.