An evolving playlist for early spring.

Visiting West Texas recently I saw this sign:

...and I decided to interpret it as a life instruction — although I assume it was meant to protect from rattlesnake encounters.

Staying on the path has meant a lot of different things for me recently: buy fewer things, meditate longer, drink more water, be less judgmental, let myself feel grief, let myself feel joy, slow down, care for my students, my family and friends, and listen more deeply when folks talk to me. Talk less, generally. Slow down again.

An evolving playlist for the new year.

When I was in my twenties, I was personal assistant to an artist here in NYC. He was very ill and eventually died from cancer. His family and friends were present throughout his final days and I was able to watch the whole process with relative objectivity. I remember most vividly his partner — so steady and calm at his bedside day after day until he was gone. I couldn't fathom her grace. What she was doing seemed impossible and unbearable.

An evolving playlist.

When I was 8 or 9 I became fascinated with Gandhi. I honestly don’t know how this happened to me down in Houston Texas in 1975. It was before the epic movie starring Ben Kingsley, and I was not raised in a family with any proximity to Hinduism or Indian culture. Mysterious.

An evolving playlist for early fall.

I’m drawn to this image of making something sacred out of so much awkwardness. September has felt so awkward: the weather doesn’t know what to do, I don’t feel easy in this 'getting older’ thing — am I supposed to behave differently? Dress differently? — I don’t know how this new empty nest family configuration is supposed to work… my mind is all over the place in meditation and so on… so many stones to stumble over.

I tend to avoid the instruction to 'just let go' when I am teaching my classes — even during deep, restful poses. It's because when I'm practicing and I hear that instruction, I tend to rebel and grab on tight. Also, it's just hard — to let go. What does that even mean?

An evolving playlist for late summer.

I got excited the other day when I saw a bird with a deep iridescent green head in the yard of my in-law's Northern Michigan summer cottage. I quickly pulled out my phone to ID and to send a picture to my ornithologist brother. I was sure I had seen something unusual and unprecedented.

An evolving playlist for summer.

This is a sample of my typical newsletter — general musings, updates and the occasional playlist.