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Dancers and Bathers at the Forest Pond (1911) Max Pachstein

The greatest gift you can give to others
is to become less of a problem
through understanding yourself.
-Larry Rosenberg

I've come to believe that empty time
of introspection, curiosity about why
I think, feel, and behave as I do, and
willingness to start over time and again
questioning my stubbornly held beliefs
just might be the best thing I can do
to become a more pleasant human.
It's not narcissism to continue
picking up the lid asking what the
heck is going on inside here?
It's kinda complicated and
sometimes hard to see the forest
for the been-here-forever trees.

My newest tack:
Instead of pointing my finger
at him or her with a "WHAT?"
I can thumb back at myself.
"Hmmm... why? pray tell, are you,
dear girl, in such a tizzy over THAT?"

Honestly, I'm forever pointing out "WHAT?"
but sometimes. . . I can stop
and wonder just why I feel so
very compelled to do so.
This somatic hand movement of
index push to thumb pull back
works for me
(even if I only do it in my mind).
A little kinetic tip. You're welcome.
Yoga really helps me here.
There's something about creating a pause
-in asana practice, in the breath, in my oh so
predictable, reactionary, opinionated mind.

The feeling of wanting to practice is love.
Being with whatever is coming,
being with your body is awareness.
-Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche

You know how sometimes you think
"Ooh, it would feel good to stretch
out a bit"? Or "I've got time, I should
do some yoga right now." But then
you know you need to start dinner
or your noisy partner wrecks your
vibe. Go easy on yourself, yogi.
A five minute yoga snack can set
off a cascade of goodness inside
-physiologically and mentally.
Gosh, just being quiet with your
dear body for a moment is medicine.

Take it where and when you can get it.
A little yoga love lingers long.

Join me on the mat for a
decadent hour of yum this week.

If you let go a little,
you will have a little peace.
If you let go a lot,
you will have a lot of peace.
And if you let go completely,
you will have complete peace.
-Ajahn Chah

Gulp.
I'm pretty sure this is accurate
based upon my own highly variable
efforts, successes, and failures
to achieve said letting go.

Be it misplaced responsibility,
over inflated ego, or my
stubborn innate need to fix,
nay, rescue those I love,
it takes a minute for me to
completely let go of something.

But if I keep this above recipe
in mind, I think it's going
to be a little easier next time.
Actually, I'll be taping this up
on my mirror after I hit send to you.

Wishing you all the peace
you'll take for yourself.
See you on the yoga mat.

Dancer (1913) Egon Schiele

It is important to remember
that the body is also beautiful
and precious, as well as subject
to transiency and decay
—maybe even because it is
subject to transiency and decay.
-Myozan Ian Kilroy

A big, fake flower that lasts and lasts
holds little allure, interest, or even beauty.
But when an ephemeral bloom rises,
shimmers in sunlight and breeze, and
eventually reveals unexpected shape and
color on its way out, you're taken by it.

If there's enough time to be with her
as she changes, over a season or a day,
it feels like you've been let in on a secret.

I'd like to try and receive my body this way.
Precious. And, it must be said, transient.
I can already attest to the brevity of my first form.
I'm going to try and keep from frowning at
the shifts in light and lift. I am a creature.
Not a fixed point, but someone alive and
constantly morphing. That makes me lucky.
You too, friend.

And you can move on a yoga mat
in wildly quiet and wondrous ways.

I love this pragmatic perspective.
This is why we do what we do.
Postures on the mat, visited again
and again, work to give us a measure.
A measure of how things are fitting
together, on the outside and on the inside.
We practice to create order in our bodies,
on the outside and on the inside.

When you recognize this, your work
becomes a very internal practice.
You don't care what the postures
look like in the body next to you.
That's not your body, not your
information, of no value to you at all.
[Even the body of your dear teacher only
proves helpful to the extent it works to
explain shapes we're trying to create.]
You get incredibly interested in
what you find in your postures.
How they affect your breath,
your mind, your emotions.
Where else do you get an hour to
simply observe yourself becoming?

You may be terrified about AI.
You may be sick of thinking about it.
Or you may be excited at the
possibilities it could bring to the world.
Perhaps you hold all these feelings.
Then you might be a person who
could be described by the new
six syllable word I'm still trying to
pronounce: apocaloptimist.

If you haven't seen this documentary,
I recommend it. It's cleverly made
and full of thoughtful experts. You'll
better understand what AI actually is,
the peril and promise it holds, and
what you can do to help shape
your/our approaching future.

I saw the brilliant Yuval Noah Harari
say, "Intelligence is the ability to solve
problems. Wisdom is the ability to
know which problems to solve."

As yogis, realizing our agency,
both its power and responsibility,
can guide us in how we choose to live.
Wise choices around personal use
of AI have very real consequences:
environmental, cognitive, developmental...

This logo means:
1. I will not use AI in my work as a writer.
2. I will not support writers who use AI in their work.
3. I will support writers, illustrators, editors and others
in related fields whose work is entirely human-made.

Over a century ago, the French sociologist
Émile Durkheim named the phenomenon
of shared energy that happens when
people experience something together
collective effervescence. It even sounds
a little fizzy and wonderful, doesn't it?

Well, Sunday night I got a taste of it
listening to the Choir of Trinity College,
Cambridge at St. George's here in
Nashville. The sight of 30 young people
working together to bring such glorious
sound to the world made me hopeful.
I watched a young Indian man
with a severe side part and
a long pageboy swing his bangs
back as he brought forth a strong
baritone in German. An angelic
fair redhead soprano seemed
transported by a 16th century hymn.
These were just college kids,
kids who sounded like angels.
The discipline and love for their
art gorgeously evident.
It lifted all of us up, the entire
packed house that gave them
more than one standing ovation.

When everyone is experiencing
an emotion together, it's somehow
magnified, fizzed up, and then
reflected back with more sparkle.

Try to find such opportunities
where you are. Join a throng.
And then slipstream their joy
with yours.

We might do this together
on the yoga mat this week.

____________________

I cannot tell you how much I hold on
to that very last line.
When I'm disappointed that things
don't go smoothly in my life.
When I'm frustrated that I cannot
seem to perfect my small world
or solve my own problems.
I try to remember this truth:
The impeded stream
is the one that sings.
It's the struggle, the life force at work,
the rough and tumble of it
that make us feel alive
because that is what brings
t r a n s f o r m a t i o n.

I hope you might find
solace in this idea too.

We lost the inimitable Wendell Berry last week -poet, farmer, activist, and wise human. We still have his words. Look for them.

I'll be looking for you on the yoga mat this week.

When you travel, you not only leave your family, friends, and possessions behind,
you also leave yourself behind—your home self—and a different you emerges,
perhaps one that is fresher, more vulnerable, more open to new ideas and things.
- David Farley

Well, I moseyed through August
at a satisfyingly slow pace. Over
3,400 miles in the car back and forth
through dusty towns of Oklahoma,
Texas, and New Mexico. On foot over
mesas, around buttes and red rocks.
On Clyde's trusty back at sunset
at Ghost Ranch in Abiquiu.

I spent a good deal of time
observing, just letting things
happen. I noticed people
who didn't notice me.
As though I was playing a bit part
in an old western, I felt like
a drifter of no consequence.
Which I suppose I actually am
most of the time, if I'm honest.

I'm hoping to try on this guise
a little more purposefully even
as I step back into a life of doing,
aiming, earning, efforting.
Recognizing my insignificance
feels like a lovely freedom
I might stay in touch with.
You know, keeping things loose,
rather than fraught with interpretation,
a little inessential even.

Now that I've rambled home
back to my quiet house in East Nashville,
where I'm exceedingly grateful to be,
I'm looking forward to sharing
a serene yoga practice with you again.

See you for yoga this week!

There are a multitude of reasons
we do yoga. This is one of them.

We create suppleness and space
in the body so it can respond
with resilience.

Likewise, we create suppleness and
space in the mind and heart,
so we can offer compassion and
non-judgment to ourselves and others.

My teacher always said,
"A supple spine leads to a supple mind."
It took me several years to see this
manifest, but it did begin to feel true.

Whether dealing with adversity, heartache,
physical challenge, or global chaos,
yoga helps us bend, rather than break.

Come bend a little
on the mat this week.
It's my last week of yoga classes
before I disappear for August.
Hope to see you.