I wrote this several weeks ago, at a yoga teacher training at the Esalen Institute, in response to the prompt to write a poem or something about everything being connected. At that point I was blissfully offline for two weeks and counting. A day or two before that point we were in silence for 24 hours, which for me included zero screens and no books.
We are born of mud, we are made of stardust. We are what we eat, what we take in.
I take in coffee, bananas, nuts; letters, words, abstract concepts; lately, little screens.
What comes around goes around. Goes nuts. Goes bananas. Goes words and letters. Goes little screens.
I let go of the little screens, the words, the letters. Maybe loosen the grip on that banana. My eyes drink in the ocean, the mountains, the sky.
I am the ocean, I am mud, I am stardust.
The author looks at the Foveaux Strait. That’s the one between South Island and Stewart Island in New Zealand or between the Tasman Sea and Pacific Ocean, depending how you look at it
Here is another quote, saying it like it is, from the “Buddha Brain” by Rick Hanson, my “yoga grad school” assigned reading: Continue reading “There You Are”
A couple of years ago, a communication coach at my desk job suggested starting a gratitude practice. I’ve heard of the concept before, and even after Kathleen the coach explained her own and her family’s gratitude practice to me, it seemed a bit out there. First of all, not like I am ungrateful or anything, am I? I know I am lucky and all that. What difference cataloguing the body parts that work and such in a journal would make?
Still, Kathleen was a truly gifted coach and a loveliest person, so even though I dismissed the idea as a suggestion to not follow, it got put aside in a not too far away corner of my brain. This post is about what happened when the time came to bring it back up and put it to work. Continue reading “Gratitude, Contentment, Heat”
On my second day in Split, Croatia, I went to the park that both my guidebook and the Air BnB host recommended.
A trail running along the paved road at the North side of the park was just a few yards into the pine trees, only a little relief from the heat of the day or the late Saturday morning street traffic. Still, I was the only person on the trail at first. Continue reading “Could Have Left”
During the 300 hr teacher training at the Esalen Institute, Janet Stone gave us an overnight homework to write a poem or something about forgiveness. This came out.
In a forest clearing I am building a fire. In a clearing on my way through the dark forest. I will stay here a night, or a week, or perhaps longer.
I am chopping up the firewood Continue reading “A Fire in a Forest Clearing”