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I subbed an early class at The Marsh last week, and afterward, couldn't resist a gluten-free banana chocolate chip muffin. A lot of yoga teachers would tell me not to get attached. This post is about the difference between paying attention to something you enjoy and gripping it, and why that difference can be harder to notice than it sounds.

I stood in front of a glass case holding Swami Kripalu's folded orange robe and worn sandals, under a quote about self-observation without judgment. The quote didn't square easily with what was written next to it about a man who practiced ten hours a day for almost thirty years.

On Saturday, twelve people joined me at Lake Fellowship for gentle yoga, meditation, conversation, food, and time outside. The day had structure, but no one needed to perform it. We practiced steadiness and ease, and discovered how much room a pause can make.

Someone in class asked whether there is a good kind of wanting. The answer is yes. For years I assumed it was no, that "let it go" covered everything, and I pictured an advanced yogi who wanted nothing at all. I could never work out how that person got out of bed. Patañjali is more useful than that. He sorts mental activity into two piles.

In high school I told my mom that if I just had a CD player, I would not need anything else. I meant it. Thirty-some years later the sentence is about a harmonium, or one more tweak to my website, and the reasons seem better now. That's the part worth paying attention to.

Episode 100 of Pretty Good Meditation has no intro music, no episode number, and no mention of my website. It's three minutes and forty-seven seconds. I'm starting to prefer minimal episodes. They align better with the yogic idea of non-stealing.

Last August I wrote that I'd get to retreats once family logistics settled down. Both kids head back to college this week, and it turns out I don't want to go anywhere. So I'm hosting two things at Lake Fellowship in Excelsior: a free Saturday morning class on August 22, and a day-long retreat with a potluck on September 12. Twelve people each.

Some days you don't feel like practicing. You show up, do the thing, and not much happens. Patañjali opens his chapter on practice with three aspects of your practice to consider when that happens, and he puts them ahead of the eight limbs, the part everyone knows.

Minnesota summers fill up fast, and so does the list of things a person ought to care about. Patañjali offers two words instead: steady practice, and letting go of how it turns out. One gives you something to do, and the other keeps it from becoming one more thing to win at.

The first time I heard a Kripalu teacher say BRFWA, I thought it sounded like a sneeze. Breathe, Relax, Feel, Watch, Allow is a slightly awkward name for a useful skill, good for getting centered and negotiating sticky conversations. These five letters have helped me to ride the waves of life instead of checking out.