No use waiting like a ghost in a dream, the world has no comfort to bring

Just practiced yoga and feel loose and strong and clear-minded. It's an art that requires patience to reap its rewards. I've been practicing for years now, but it's only been the last several months that I've fully embraced it. And, lately, including my earlier session, I've been challenging myself more, which implies increased exertion, which there has been, but a lot of what's been going has been primarily about release, about trusting my body, connecting to it.

I had a dream about Mandy, the dog of my youth, last night. The theme was the same as always: you can't go home again. It's not natural to give the past the authority of the present. The poor girl, lying beside me as I hugged her tightly, tears streaming down my face. Her breathing was rapid, her heart disturbingly overworked. I knew it wasn't right that I had here, like a fish pulled from the sea, but it was hard to let go. I woke up, eyes wet. She was a fine dog, but she is gone to me. I am not outside nature, I am in the thick of it - I must embrace its rules or suffer. The past is the past. The future is the future. The present is all there is.

At one point yesterday, I thought about how irretrievable the past is, even when it feels so close you could touch it. I recalled the days of early adulthood, when I met many of the friends I still have. Some of their images came up hazy, some vivid. Seemed recent, but in reality quite a bit further back. Years. Strange, this life. Stranger, the older I get. It was this line of thought that summoned the dream. I think so, anyway.

We move on. And on. And on. I don't think we die, I think we just keep experiencing "now". Eternally. I won't be a ghost that haunts people and places that have no tangible existence. Still, I miss my girl, and those days of deep kinship, seemingly abiding. Eventually, will all be forgotten as I hurdle through the great expanse of life? I wonder.

Richard and Linda Thompson's Pour Down Like Silver arrived in the mail today. Gave it a once through already. Less raucous than I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight, but equally effective. Around this time, the couple had embraced Sufism and the songs reflect this paradigm shift. Devotional, but not preachy. Great stuff. Oh, and the shot of Linda in the CD booklet is strikingly beautiful. I feel a sigh coming on.

Coming up: Finish watching Sita Sings The Blues, record some music, read from The Great Hunt, watch The Office, shower, write some emails, and who knows what else. And that's just tonight. I better get started.