The yogi has been out of action, for nearly two months. But, no longer.
Where'd I go? Nowhere new (same northern-family-visit circuit as catalogued exhaustively in this blog). What'd I do? Nothing new (camped in my van at a couple comfortably familiar places, where I yoga'd and such). What happened? Ditto.
Nothing ... and everything.
The trip, however unremarkable and routine and yawn-inducing for an outside observer, was absolutely blissful. How? Why? It was all about tension and release. Namely, that of being a riotously footloose person (a wandering yogi, as it were) who's been kept grounded by a conspiracy of health and circumstances and just plain stagnation -- only to finally break out of it, at long last. So, even though this breakout trip was absolutely routine (and lasted barely three days), it was, for the traveler, nothing less than manna from Heaven. I might as well have gone to the moon and back.
That first night out, I thought: This is how a supernova must feel.
The Horny Manta Ray, parked at the gym that hosted this trip's single night of public van-camping (which, keeping with the "nothing new" theme, has been previously pictured on this blog).
And then, what's this?!? Some actual content? Well, it was just the minor spectacle of some urban geese with whom I shared that gym parking lot, approximately six or eight of them waddling about and honking conspicuously throughout my stay -- but hey, some lousy content is miles better than no content (for the content-centric, at least).