Heavy things: $121

I took a trunkload of things to Play It Again Sports recently, hoping someone might find value in them. Some of these things I had owned for over 20 years. I had thought maybe I’d need them in the future (Rollerblades). Maybe a part of me still needed to hold them close, as a part of my…

Come with me

The Pasture by Robert Frost I’m going out to clean the pasture spring; I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away (And wait to watch the water clear, I may): I sha’n’t be gone long.—You come too. I’m going out to fetch the little calf That’s standing by the mother. It’s so young, It totters…

Pistachios, my-ness and the holidays

I came to class bearing a sparkly green box in addition to my music and third eye-focused sequence. Last year was an exception due to travel, but at the end of each year that I teach yoga classes, I like to prepare gifts for my students. I bring the gifts to my class or classes, or…

Self, not-self

It’s simpler than it looks. Always. This poem found me, today. IN EVERY LIFE By Alicia Ostriker In every life there’s a moment or two when the self disappears, the cruel wound takes over, and then again at times we are filled with sky or with birds or simply with the sugary tea on the…

Thank you for the Rumi

Story Water, by Rumi A story is like water that you heat for your bath. It takes messages between the fire and your skin. It lets them meet, and it cleans you! Very few can sit down in the middle of the fireit self like a salamander or Abraham. We need intermediaries. A feeling of…

Is your soul hidden?

Poem credit: Bly, Robert. Kabir : ecstatic poems / versions by Robert Bly. Boston: Beacon Press, 2004. Print. It seems like more than a year has passed since I found a new poem that I liked enough to share at one of my yoga classes. Then bam! I picked up a book at the library, and the…

Pelicans, Ría Lagartos and Borges

Returning from travel to a warm place with family over the holidays, I find this partial poem to be resonant. I hadn’t read much Borges before finding this in one of the books I read while on the trip, Eye of the Fish by Luis Francia. He who believes He’s left his home already has…