What's even the point?

 so that I would have a way to go back and remember what it was like to be young.  I remember having this very thought when I was about 7 or 8 years old. I remember thinking, "I might forget what it is like being a kid when I'm older." so I wrote things that happened every day so that I would always have it.  And I still do.   Today I want to write because one day I might forget what it feels like to be held. carried. cared for so completely by the unseen world. I have a deep connection to the energy that is connecting the life force that exists on this planet. I love nature and all the people. We are tied together in an inexplicable and infinite way that words cannot adequately express except for one. Miracle. I just looked up the definition of miracle and it is the word I am looking to use.  They are sometimes small, these miracles. A text, phone call, email, spot of sunshine, treat on a doorstep, piece of mail.  But these things imply objectivity. A...

 to be truly despised. I have despised myself so deeply.  I don't know what it feels like for others when they feel loved, but I know that feeling because I have found it for myself.  I love myself.  I love living in my body.  I love the feeling of being completely in my body. I love being in tune with my soul, my infinite self. The God that lives within me. When something comes up, when a thought, inspiration moves to me to tears, action, peace, I know that what it is telling me is truth.  Two days ago I was inspired, nudged forward into a space of forward thinking.  What would it take to be a yoga teacher? No, I'm not a yogi, I'm not yogi material. I could never...but what if I could? What if this is the thing I need to sit up and pay attention to? does it match anything I have ever thought about myself? does it match who I am or who I want to be? yes, to all these questions. I love and want what yoga and meditation gives to me and I want to give it ...