is the practice of surrendering your rigid plans.
I was guilty of this on day one. I woke up in my North Shore cabin to the sound of heavy trade winds and fat droplets hitting the tin roof. My heart sank. "A washout," I muttered. canvas kau
That is the masterpiece. Not the perfect photo. Not the sunburned skin. It is the memory of feeling utterly alive while the world pours down around you. is the practice of surrendering your rigid plans