In two weeks, I’ll be packed up and ready to fly halfway around the world for the third time. Two months in Mysore, India to practice Ashtanga at the source. I’m thrilled that I have the opportunity to do this; it’s not cheap, and knowing that I’ll [likely] have a job after so much time away is a luxury. But there’s also a little trepidation that comes with the excitement of going; it’s a long time away from the home life that I love, my husband can’t come with me, and I was so sick for so long last trip that my hair fell out when I got home. Not exactly the stuff of spa vacations. But there’s a lot of good, too: friends from around the world, long lunches at Sixth Main, and the practice, Oh God the practice. There is a fire there that doesn’t burn as brightly anywhere else, and every time I go I get to save a little bit of it for the negative whatever degree day solo practices back at home. So that’s why I go. To top up on the fire; to hit my head on a brick over and over until coins come out.