Lion's Breath

There is a pose in yoga called The Lion Breath where you put your hands on your bent knees, open your mouth and roar like a lion from the bottom of your lungs. A dear friend recommends I practise this. Do more roaring.

Today I wanted to roar down the phone at the woman from the Department of Work and Pensions for sending a letter with the wrong figures - yet again - regarding the taxable allowance on my husband's benefits. Not her fault, different person of course, so I didn't. And in the end I could have jumped down the phone and kissed her because she promised she'd send the right figures and even addressed the envelope and said it would be in the post tonight. 

I wanted to roar at my husband tonight for letting the poached eggs boil over and fusing the cooker and the TV and the hob -  yet again.   But I didn't. I switched it all back on in the fuse box under the stairs and grumbled at him and nearly wept with frustration. And loved him for making the stringy white mess into scrambled eggs instead.

 It's no good roaring AT people you have to roar into the air, and let the wind snatch it away - all that rage and despair  - let the waves pound it into surf. Much better  dissolving there than crippling the bones in your hips, poisoning your loved one with blame......