On good days, the universe’s subtle heartbeat is audible. My practice synchs up with it like a needle dropped on a record groove. Yesterday was a good day.

Bad days are like swimming through molasses. This morning I thought to myself, “There’s a point to why I practice. What was it again?”

Good days, bad days. Easy days and hard days, focused days and scattershot days, days of lightness and days of density: Through it all, “Abhyasa vairagyabhyum tan nirodha.” Steady, dispassionate practice, without attachment to the outcome.

Some days that line is so obvious. Some days that line is all that saves me.