In which we meet a guy called Jeff, I propose removing Patañjali from our philosophy discussions, and I invite you to show me how wrong I am.
In which we see depression from the inside, recognise the importance of tapering, express our depth of gratitude, and reclaim a painful story.
in which i break down the regular elements of my creative process for all the world to see.
In which we question spiritual authority, debunk some inconvenient truths, and I break my silence about some things that I have, until now, been too codependent to acknowledge.
In which ABBA makes us dance, Annie Lennox makes us cry, and we overcome our philosophical differences by embracing our love of Wham!
In which we take a break from our usual form, explore the kind of music my editing brain likes best, imagine parachuting book fairies who sing Christmas songs every night, and make friends with a pair of unsuspecting library staffers.
In which the octopus takes a short break.
In which we do a bit of reminiscing, let our conversation get spiritual, book a play date, coin the word "replicatory," and get a first look at the title of my upcoming book.
In which we consider the importance of being both lovers and fighters, call for an end to spiritual victim blaming, ask some non-rhetorical questions, and use a sentence fragment.
In which we spend some time with my grandparents, consider the benefits of corrupting the youth, let Skype & the stars & Earthrise blow our minds, and appreciate the wonder of how learning more helps us to know less.
In which we get a bit of face-time, I show you some incredibly impressive yoga moves, we plan to impress our crushes with magnets and warm coffee, and we see why thinking of Florida makes us move more slowly.
In which we learn new words in order to feel more emotions, convince our bodies that that cupcake is actually a muffin, compare Oregon Trail to Fifa '17, and explore the cognitive benefits of learning to use chopsticks with a non-dominant hand.
In which we travel 3.5 billion years back in time, get some advice from the ultimate "dad book," surf some brain waves, learn why we're such brats sometimes, and perhaps hit upon the essence of yoga.
In which we embrace the third-person present verb form, go to a party, poke ourselves in the eye, interpret each other's dreams, and see some adorable animals that aren't there.
In which we cry over an X-Men action figure, compare our bodies to a mythological ship, acquire memories of things that never happened, Malkovich Malkovich, Malkovich Malkovich Malkovich, and realise that he needs us more than we need him.
In which we stop beating ourselves up for not being good at meditation, take a peak into the penalty-taker's conundrum, start to understand why we're so negative, and create a platform from which we can deconstruct our spiritual ideas of "who we really are."
In which we explore the relationship between tickling and fighting, hang out with some monkeys and an invisible gorilla, develop a theory of why people feel competitive urges during yoga, and end up talking way more about sex than I'd originally intended.
In which we joke around with Alan Finger, think slowly with Daniel Kahneman, discover another reason why laughter is like prānāyāma, and understand both why liars hide their eyes and yoga students raise their eyebrows.
In which we look at the psychological and neuroscientific background of laughter; combine an interrobang with a colon; imagine ourselves as aliens; take the piss out of Elizabeth Barnett; and employ a series of parentheses, brackets, and braces that probably only I find hilarious.