For what I have done, and for what I have failed to do... Reflections on a practice in purchase...

I had about 13 reviews for various and sundry yoga products I wanted to tell you about, but lately I cannot stomach the idea of writing about products...because the real thing I want to talk about is the impulse to acquire the products themselves.

I gave up alcohol 6 months and 5 days ago. I have a lot more lucid time, but my addiction is  a hungry adolescent. The hole in my chest is still contracting and expanding, sniffing out any way to avoid the sensation of well, sensations. I come home after working, yoga practice and I am confronted with the ghost of my medicine and meadows of hours ripe with emotional tripwire. I fight hard to fill the want with something admirable...my guitar, viola, reading, writing, painting, netflix, puppet shows with my cat...but more often than not these past few weeks I find myself lurking on eBay, Etsy and various brilliantly branded sites designed to temporarily satiate my unending desire to acquire. Shopping is a palliative replacement MSG.

I do not know what I want. I barely know why I want. Not much new there, we are all aware of this deformity of the nesting instinct. What I wonder is , is why we aren't talking about it more?  Sure, we all exchange knowing eye rolls, and the occasional self-aware barb about our financial indiscretions, but rarely do we talk slowly, and seriously about purchasing goods. Perhaps because the only thing more personal is what and who we put in our mouths.

This past weekend Christine Raffa  (the  brilliant owner of Rhode Island's Raffa Yoga) taught our teacher training on anatomy. I am not exaggerating when I say the ease with which she presented this dense material was inspirational. I believe her approach should be mandatory in public schools for basic anatomy (but that's another post). Our class evolved and meshed in an entirely new way after our time with Christine.  Something broke open, and we all saw each other, and I have been more than a little haunted since. I bring this up because I think the hunger I am filling with the researching and acquiring of various commodities has to do with a brittle loneliness. I am surrounded by loved ones, but the truth of the matter is, I spend more face time with my own reflection in my laptop monitor. Some of this is choice, most of it is the architecture of this particular moment in history. We don't often get together to hang out without food or alcohol sitting between us. Not that I don't adore being alone, eating and drinking...(cause the good and sweet lord knows I do, lord does he know)

And so I am writing you to be honest, and tell you I want to see you more, spend time with you. I want to be in public more, outside listening to you tell me things that are hard to say out loud. I want to tell you what scares me, I want you to tell me why you are scared too. Then let's chase some squirrels and cut the crap with the lululemon talk...before the snow comes and claims what little Pitta I have left.

Forgive my rambling preachy disclosivities,

I just needed to tell someone besides my credit card.