isn't sherrie such a beautiful lady? we took these photographs on a gray winter morning down by the water in georgetown the other day. sherrie writes a great blog about being an indian-american in washington, dc, loves all things french, and has a gorgeous dog named nikki. she also looks so alive and glowy in red!
i'm about to head to costa rica with sarita for our third annual yoga retreat in montezuma. this time we are adding surf into the mix and i am going to be falling and getting up a lot. i'm really looking forward to a week of going deeper into teaching, deeper into the practice and to soak in the immense beauty of that country. i'm also going to take photographs for fun and read a bunch and eat anamaya's delicious food!
this is amazing and of course, it's also hard to leave. as i've gotten more grounded over these past years with my weekly yoga classes, dear adam, and now, poncho, it makes me feel how much i am leaving behind when i go away. i continue to see how deep love also brings attachment and my mantra has been a lot about letting go and trusting. but mostly, it feels like love all around me, sometimes a hard love albeit, and i keep saying 'thank you, this is good" as i ride my bike through these late winter mornings.
speaking of, i've never felt so acutely aware of needing spring so badly. each day i look for signs of the first buds, dream about spring gardens, and rejoice at the feel of the warm sun on my back. as the days get longer and warmer, it feels like i am emerging out of a transformative, internal winter and ready to open my arms a little wider to life--trust a little more, love harder, tell my story louder.
my great aunt betty's letter also reminded me of this and she is such a good writer that i wanted to share with you all as well.
Dear Family,
Some days are memorable for some unexpected happening, and today was such a day here in Palm
Coast, Florida. Vic called to me to come outside quickly where he stood holding the binoculars. Down our street on the opposite side stood a very large white bird with some highly distinguishing character-istics – a long black bill, a grayish, much pleated neck, black legs, red feet. It was a North American wood stork, length 35”, wing span 66”. I saw a pair of them while we were living in our first house here in Palm Coast. As you can see, these sightings are rare events.
There is an old saying, “We never know what is just around the corner”. On that Friday afternoon
in March of last year, I was just about to learn that one’s life can be transformed in a split second. I
opened the passenger door of our car, leaned outward and fell heavily to the pavement, my feet
thoroughly entangled in the “rope” handles of my purse sitting on the floor of the car. In a “split
second”, I was in excruciating pain and something was very wrong with my right leg which felt para-
lyzed. Surgery could not be avoided; drugs and antibiotics could not be avoided; an extended period in a rehab could not be avoided.
The wonderful day finally arrived when Vic came to take me home from the rehab, and I began to make a very important discovery. After being confined for almost a month, I noticed the incredibly beautiful blue of the sky. It was like I had never really noticed much less appreciated this most natural “thing of beauty”. My attention moved to something else so beautiful – the clean whiteness of puffy clouds and then to the deep green of the jungle-like vegetation. It was a meaningful discovery because to this day seeing that special blue of the sky remains such a very special treat. Those puffy clouds may or may not be there, the deep green always a part of the beautiful picture.
And then as we drove along, I noticed people walking , and at first I felt so jealous – would I ever be able to walk without pain? If so, I determined right then and there that I would be so grateful every time I moved about on my own two feet.
And so, dear Family, I write to encourage you to enjoy and cherish what life has given you. The lesson is that it can be transformed or lost in a split second.
Love always,
Betty
