Doing morning yoga with the “Gryffindor Common Room” ambient sound track playing and my Pygmy Puff on my mat with me is the only way to do yoga.
24 years old. Queer. New York. BA in Gender Studies. Counseling student. Germanophile, writer, reader (see my books here), feminist, runner, writer, lover, Nerdfighter. More about me :) In recovery from an eating disorder & PTSD, living with depression. Trigger warnings always apply, please take gentle care. What's up, babycakes?
i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any–lifted from the no
of all nothing–human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)