The first time you took a yoga class, did what the teacher was doing look all that complex? Did you have any clue? I mean, really, how hard could it be? “Step your foot back, relax, breathe.” Big whoop. Hundreds of hours of training for this?
E-News, Scribbles
Tread across any terrain, any darkness, and stop. Kneel down by the creek. Your hands comb over the cool moss on the ground and you do nothing else other than feel and hear and see. Take it all in. Curiosity absent any agenda.
E-News, Scribbles
Might our senses offer more capacity for Knowing than fickle and capricious thoughts?
E-News, Scribbles
It's an ongoing lifetime education for any of us bold or foolish enough to sit in the teacher's seat — learning to look at a room full of differently 'posed' bodies. With instruction cues focused less on the gross outer forms and more on the imperative to breathe into harmonious, liberating alignment from the inside out.
Scribbles
It's temping, common, and understandable that in the closing days of 2020, our attention and conversation revolves around overwhelming evidence of disunity. Yet we're bound together not only by common wounds, but also by the brief, indispensable mercies that can appear out of nowhere when we need them most.
