Everyone is a different version of you.

A man I didn’t know spoke to me as I waited to cross the street.  “Great class, wasn’t it?” I looked to my left and he was looking ahead, and the light changed, and we began to walk together.  We talked about yoga, which we had in common.  I mentioned a recent break-up that had left me reeling.  He said he understood.  He’d had a similar experience last winter.  I told him I was going to Bali in the fall.  He stopped and pulled a Lonely Travel guide to Bali out of his backpack.  He was going to Bali in 10 days.  I started laughing.  “It’s like you’re a different version of me!”

Kindred spirits.  You know when you meet them.  There’s a certain click Continue reading “Everyone is a different version of you.”

Life wants to live through you.

Write what wants to be written.  When the words are knocking at the door, let them in and write them down.  There is a story that wants to be told, and it’s whispering to you, so you are the one to release it onto the page, to free it from its formlessness. You don’t have to show anyone if you don’t want to.  The value is in writing the words.  Moreover, the act of writing changes the writer, and it may be that impulse that is seeking you out. Continue reading “Life wants to live through you.”

Finding your way.

I teach a class called willPower & grace® and my yoga students say it’s like bootcamp, and my bootcamp students say it’s like yoga.  My yoga students like the strength and cardio work.  My athletes and cyclists like the flexibility and balance training.  Everyone wants to be challenged right at their edge.  Everyone wants to feel good, have fun, and feel more at home in their own skin.  They come back because something about it Continue reading “Finding your way.”

Fieldnotes and clues.

Today I feel overwhelmed with desire, happiness, and a sense of yearning.   I remember my yoga and meditation training, and I try to simply soften and open to it.  I relax the muscles in my face and belly and feel my breath slow deepen.  I try to feel everything:  the sun on my neck, the weight and texture of my sweater, that spark and flutter and reach in my heart. Continue reading “Fieldnotes and clues.”

Practice saying the words.

I’ve started talking to myself.  I go for a walk and pretend I’m on a call, bright white hands-free cord plugged into my iPhone.  At first I felt tentative, but now I’m good at it.

I imagine I’m talking to a friend.  Sometimes I imagine I am talking to you.

I allow all the words to come out.  The tangled thoughts and circling questions, the major and minor emotional chords.  Sometimes the words come out in a way that feels so unexpectedly right my breath catches with the discovery of some new insight.  The pieces snap into focus. Continue reading “Practice saying the words.”

Stealth meditation experiment.

It’s January, and each day feels fresh and new.  There’s a relief that comes with releasing the prior year, of shrugging off the accumulated weight of everything that happened (and didn’t happen), the people who came and left, the emotional residue that builds up one day at a time.  Today I still have that clean-slate feeling.  I have a renewed curiosity for Life and what I might do with it while I’m here.  This is the time to open to possibility, and to try things in a new way:  what I eat, how I move, when I wake up, and the like.

The great thing about starting something now is that you get to say, “I’ve been doing this all year,” and even though Continue reading “Stealth meditation experiment.”

More love songs.

There is always room for more love songs.  Keep loving.  Keep writing.  Keep singing.  Even though love songs have been around for centuries.  Even though we’re all singing about the same thing:  the hope, sweetness, bliss, and ache of love.  It doesn’t matter.  We want to hear your version.  We want to hear your words, your tune, your voice, your arrangement.

Tell us how it is.  We want to know.  We can never get enough.

Even here.

The other day, as I walked home from teaching my morning class, I noticed a man walking towards me.  He looked agitated and unkempt, and was muttering to himself.  And as we drew closer he looked up and saw me and began to move faster, and he leaned towards me as he passed and shouted, “You fucking bitch!”  He was so close I could feel his breath against my cheek.  Continue reading “Even here.”