I’ve heard professional photographers talk about the shots they’ve taken. The why, the how, the when of a particular picture. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard one speak of the picture that they didn’t take, that they wished they had taken. Perhaps that’s why they are professionals—they’re rarely without a camera and usually ready for that moment of grace when a picture presents itself. Continue reading…
I believe we humans are actually spirit and don’t require bodies to exist. Yet, here we are in physical form, ensconced in flesh. There must be a reason, something to be learned or gained from carrying around this hunk of meat everywhere we go. My view is the body connects us to nature, giving us information about the third dimension we inhabit. When we check in with our bodies, they also serve to inform us of our emotions and how our thoughts affect those emotions. The body is a better barometer of what is actually going on with us than the mind. The mind can justify all sorts of atrocities, but only a closed heart will fail to report the truth.
Being squarely in the body is of paramount importance to me, and yet I still sometimes have difficulty listening to my own body/heart instead of my intellect/conditioning.
This is where the pee comes in. Continue reading…
…does actually boil. I know because I watched mine this morning. The old adage is not about temperature or water or pots, but you knew that already. The old adage is about patience, how standing over something, willing it to grow or boil or take flight, doesn’t help the process go any faster. If you’re like me you’ve interpreted this to mean, do something else while the pot is heating up—that way you won’t waste time. This is how I’ve mostly lived my life, multi-tasking, slipping 5-minute jobs in between longer efforts. Now, as I enter and activate this slowing down period of my life, I wonder if I haven’t missed a great deal of life by trying to pack everything in. It’s scattered and tense and timed and impatient. And isn’t that exactly what we’re being told about watching that pot. Don’t be impatient? Continue reading…
Traveling with my friend this summer brought up an interesting question—how do I feel about being lost?
I get anxious when I’m with another person. Especially if I’m with another anxious person who’s driving the car while I’m navigating from shitty Google Maps’ printed directions. When I’m by myself, I actually like when I’m a bit lost. Continue reading…
Just beyond my fear is where the magic happens.
Get into a comfortable position.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Slower. Deeper. Softer. Be gentle with yourself.
Breathe into the spaces that are tight, controlled, holding.
Breathe in to your belly, to your lower back, your pelvic muscles, your jaw.
Breathe into your feet and hands, all the way to your fingers and toes.
Breathe in, release tension, melt cares and concerns.
You are Divine. Continue reading…
People are different from each other. This is both obvious and simple while at the same time complex and difficult. We process information and experiences differently based on a whole host of scientific and esoteric reasons. It’s good for the species, it gives us variety, adaptability, a human for every situation.
However, when two or more humans attempt to coexist on a day to day basis, adjustments and adaptations must be made.
Like the cribbage board. Continue reading…
NOTE: This was written for a women’s gathering. Feel free to adapt it for mixed groups or men only.
Get in a comfortable position with both feet on the floor or sitting cross-legged with your spine erect. Close your eyes, then allow your head to float up and away from your shoulders. Lengthen and open your spinal column. Let your back widen, making room for the lungs to stretch.
Breathe in and out, slowly, rhythmically, finding a pace that fills you and relaxes you. In and out.
Now, relax more.
Look into your heart and see there a point of white light. Allow the light to expand—brighter, softer, larger until you feel yourself floating in that light. Continue reading…
There are probably as many reasons to travel as there are people who travel. I have a whole list of things I love about it. Art and architecture, culture and color, people, places, food and fashion. Most of all, I travel for the experience. I’m with my best friend, Diane, and this is a long trip for us—almost two full months on the road. From apartments with two bedrooms, a kitchen and spaces large enough to dance, to the tiniest of hotel rooms with two feet between the single beds pushed right up to the peachy pink walls and a bathroom where you sit on the toilet to shower with a hand held faucet dribbling water, each day is filled with unforgettable experiences. I’ll admit, I sometimes can’t remember which city we were in or what day it was, but I remember the laughter, the exhaustion, the exhilaration, the waiting, the getting through it to the next thing, and the incredible gratitude for a life that allows me to live deeply and expansively.
Along the way, I get to work on my own issues. Trust, self-confidence, authenticity, trust, courage, fear, creativity, trust and responsibility.
I said trust, right? Continue reading…
Day one of extended writing and all I can think of is whether my ass shows through my leggings too much.
I’m wearing one of those impulse buys—a rayon shirt cut on the bias with long tails hanging on either side. It’s a deep olive green, one of my favorite colors, and looked amazing on the rack at the street festival where I got it. I should have tried it on but the booth was closing, I was late to meet my family, and the vendor assured me I would rock that shirt. Besides, that color, the color of my 11th grade prom dress, the color of clothes I’ve loved in my life—how could I go wrong with that color?
The color still works for me. The style, I believe is more appropriate for a boyish 12 -year-old than a 60-year-old woman. Continue reading…