One of the interesting, often overlooked, pieces of travel is the returning home. There is in this a brief window where it's just possible to see where things are stuck, bent, not working, disconnected. What did I miss? What didn't I miss? Safety is built into routine - the recognizable, the familiar, the predictable. This is not argument against the ashtanga system - there is an enormous lot to be learned through commitment, hard-work, and repetition - and I still believe the mysore room is the most sophisticated teaching environment. But it's good to go swim in the ocean, to come home and notice how my right leg drifts to compensate for a left elbow that wants always to swing wide - to go through is almost too painful. To notice that you are a creature separate from me - even when, especially when, your sadness floods my house and I stand there worrying, watching the water rise. How to keep the heart open and keep house? You come in, I go out - wandering the countryside, looking for clues.