In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.
- Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae

Why I (sort of) Gave Up Yoga

I’ve been working through this post in my head for a while, and while difficult, I’m finally writing it.  Due to a back injury, I gave up yoga. No extensions, no back bends, no warrior or planks. Nothing at all. Let’s go back to July, shall we? I had finally done it, a perfect month. […]

More