Last year, I definitely thought i'd hit my limit with two Christmases in a row in Mysore. I missed my family, missed holiday cheer.
And yet here I am on Christmas day at Manila's airport, awaiting the first leg of travel that will end on my friend's doorstep in Gokulam early tomorrow morning.
I guess I am eager to get back, to practice with Sharath, to dig deeper into my own process. I guess what I realize is that I miss Mysore as well, that the depth of practice, the sense of community calls me to another kind of home, where a different kind of family awaits.
So I have split this precious holiday, spending the Eve, a big all night to-do in the Philippines, and the morning of Christmas Day with the family I was born into (also chosen to some extent) while setting off by midday to meet with the family I have consciously chosen, a motley crew of serious but also light hearted yoga practitioners, a humorous and occasionally stern teacher (the father figure to us all), a sweetly smiling though tough loving mama, and all the wonderful characters that make up the magic of Mysore.