You know how it is when you tell a story.  If anyone else is in the story, it’s their story too and they may not tell it the way you tell it.  I wrote a short post Why I don’t mind when my man writes love songs about other women. I thought: since we’re all friends, it would be fun to give everyone’s name and give the circumstances, since they were so synchronistic and of note. Of course, I couldn’t do that since not everyone cares to take everything public the way my bf and I have agreed to. I find the less secrets I have, the happier I am.  Maybe that’s just because there’s less to remember.

I’m used to writing out my thoughts. That’s how I process things.  It’s my therapy.  I’ve blogged almost daily since 2009.  Before that, I typed almost daily into my journal.  Now that I blog, I no longer write in my journal.  Private thoughts I used to journal about, I no longer do.  I have no one I talk to about the intimate details of my thought life, so j0urnalling is something I am beginning to miss.  My life has changed significantly the last year.  I no longer have hours and hours to contemplate ideas and write down my thoughts and feelings. That time is spent in daily activities of the householder.  While it is a much different life than I was living before, it’s also a fulfilling and rewarding life.  Just different.

My yoga, my challenge, is to find a happy balance between the two.  To have a happy home life that includes other people, and to have the solitude and contemplative time I need to feed my soul.  I feel like most of my clients, who juggle family life and work and try to squeeze their solace and spiritual practice in between their daily responsibilities.  It’s a yoga for sure.

My first thought is to just blog about whatever is going on in my mind, private or not.  That would be the easiest.  If  I am who I say I am, why not be transparent?  Ah, there’s the rub.  It’s hard to tell my story without telling their story. I caution anyone before we undertake soul work together, and they must agree.  If they do not, some of the things closest to my heart, I can’t talk about.  Some of the things that bring me the most joy, the most growth, I can’t share.  That’s ok for awhile.  The nature of my work is that I’m a keeper of other people’s secrets.  It’s when I feel I have to keep any of my own that it begins to weigh on me. I realize it’s beginning to weigh on me.  I’ll figure it out.  I just need to schedule some thought time for it.