the answer (in case you were wondering)

the answer to all issues, problems and general lifeyness of life is LOVE! love love love, personally i can't get enough of the stuff. love you guys!

in between the tropics

last morning sunrise in bermuda (aka paradise)

i loved bermuda, loved loved bermuda. i have lots of funny vintagey photos to share of the adventure but this one captures the essence of this sea-hugged nation of boats and pink shorts and limestone roofs. i'm off to florida now for mark and danielle's union now and feeling lucky for april travel (i've done it for three years now and it always feels like an easter rebirth to me). in the meantime, enjoy this poem (which is like a mini-rebirth, as perhaps all good poetry should be)

Inventing a horse is not easy.

One must not only think of the horse.

One must dig fence posts around him.

One must include a place where horses like to live;

or do when they live with humans like you.

Slowly, you must walk him in the cold;

feed him bran mash, apples;

accustom him to the harness;

holding in mind even when you are tired

harnesses and tack cloths and saddle oil

to keep the saddle clean as a face in the sun;

one must imagine teaching him to run

among the knuckles of tree roots,

not to be skittish at first sight of timber wolves,

and not to grow thin in the city,

where at some point you will have to live;

and one must imagine the absence of money.

Most of all, though: the living weight,

the sound of his feet on the needles,

and, since he is heavy, and real,

and sometimes tired after a run

down the river with a light whip at his side,

one must imagine love

in the mind that does not know love,

an animal mind, a love that does not depend

on your image of it,

your understanding of it;

indifferent to all that it lacks:

a muzzle and two black eyes

looking the day away, a field empty

of everything but witchgrass, fluent trees,

and some piles of hay.

--megan o'rourke

much ado about nothing

flowering jasmine blossom tea

i woke up with work on my mind this morning. there are postcards to be printed for the costa rica and memorial day yoga retreats, cds that need to be mailed out to photo clients, and this week i'm finishing up my class outlines for fem*ex, which i'll be co-facilitating at youthbuild dcpcs this spring. i feel lucky that i'm at a place where a morning of working on projects sends a shiver up my spine. as much as i curse technology sometimes, i do love sitting at my desk with a cup of tea and the feeling of accomplishment that checking a project off my to do list will give me.

of course, i can also look a little deeper and see that this compulsion to work may be coming from me getting ready to leave town on a vacation. yes, it's a vacation and it's to a tropical place! bermuda to be more exact. and while i am there i am not teaching yoga, massaging anyone, photographing anything (except what i like), visiting family or having any outward purpose except to relax, soak up sunshine and cargar las pilas. i'm excited! and also, i think my puritanical side is a little freaked out, hence wanted to dive into work.

for these past seven months or so i've been so so busy almost every weekend with yoga training and photography and teaching workshops. during that time i promised myself that once i had some free weekends i would let myself relax and really enjoy them. at first it was wonderful and little by little, i feel the need to "do" knocking at my door with it's tiny, steely knuckles. i felt it particularly this weekend when a photo job canceled and adam and i found ourselves with a free, beautiful day to play in dc. we walked around the loveliness of dumbarton oaks, drank tea at ching chang cha, saw the hunger games (loved it, even though i haven't read the books), and ate the best cupcakes in the sunshine down by the river. it's the afternoon i've always dreamed of but during it i had to keep telling myself that i was allowed to enjoy it and not work and spend a little hard-earned money on myself.


the view from our cupcake perch


adam at dumbarton oaks

i saw this quote yesterday and it helped me understand: "We’re not worthy, and we’re not unworthy. Worthiness has nothing to do with it. Life gives us everything, freely, with a generosity it’s hard for us to grasp. We don’t earn it. Our part is to say thank you and give back from the generosity that has given us so much." - Cheri Huber

so that's it. it's not a cycle of working to earn our free time, but rather it's an exercise in enjoying and accepting what comes to us. when i lived in peru, i felt like i had to navigate a lot of worlds. one weekend i would spend a day swimming in the pool of an embassy family in lima and then next i would be back with my host family eating bread and drinking weak tea by the fire stove. my mantra became to appreciate it all without comparison. right now i am in the cycle of relaxation and play and i'm gonna go with that, as best i can, until things get busy again--just because i can.


seeing mason jennings at the birchmere on sunday was beautiful!

the head and the heart

i drove up the bw parkway at sunset last night with julie beside me to go see the head and the heart. julie gave me their cd a while back and i haven't been able to take it out of my rotation. they're just so dang talented and beautiful! we said last night they there were like singing angels up there, reminding us that deserve to hear beautiful music. i couldn't pick between my two favorite songs by them so i thought i'd put them both. enjoy!

finding lots of inspiration this weekend

julie at the cherry blossoms

"i learned that opening myself to my own love and to life's tough loveliness was not only the most delicious, amazing thing on Earth but it was also quantum. it would radiate out to a cold, hungry world. beautiful moments heal, as do real cocoa, pete seeger, a walk on old fire roads. all i ever wanted since i arrived here on earth were the things that turned out to be within reach, the same things i needed as a baby--to go from cold to warm, lonely to held, the vessel to the giver, empty to full. you can change the world with a hot bath, if you sink into it from a place of knowing that you are worth profound care, even when you're dirty and rattled. who knew?"

--anne lamott

love sunday mornings

hello and goodbye

oh man oh man, this spring weather is so intoxicating and wonderful. it makes me want to stand perfectly still so i can feel the breeze across my cheeks and it makes me want to clean the dust bunnies out of corners and the cobwebs out of my brain and it makes me remember that life can always begin again--in fact nature demands it.

it's been a transition over these past few weeks. the first part of my 2012 has been dedicated to finishing my teacher training and then at the end of april i finished it! it was a beautiful, kinda intense process that is still trickling down in my teaching and my life. i'm a big believer that we can't sign up for big, awesome commitments without them changing us in some way. at the end, i feel more confident in my strengths, more self-accepting of the places where i am working and more in awe of what a beautiful teacher yoga really is. also, i got to do the training with a group of fabulous teachers who all taught me something special.

i hadn't finished that for a full day when i drove off to national harbor, md to photograph this amazing and huge conference on women's shelters around the world. 1600 people from over 100 countries gathered to talk about the importance of keeping women and children safe around the world. there were many powerful, inspiring, and heart-breaking stories and so many strong voices for the future of this movement. although i was just there to document it (and it's many celebrities in attendance--i'll do a post on this soon), i couldn't help but be affected.

when i left for nyc the morning after the conference ending, i was still carrying all this with me. it wasn't until i was sitting with don diego--an amazing peruvian, vedic shaman--during ceremony that i was able to process all i had seen and done. he sang his songs and i closed my eyes and saw all the faces of the women that i've known. i remembered the stories. i remembered the domestic abuse i witnessed in peru. i remembered my own abuse. i saw that all of these women, me included, have such huge hearts that they think they can save everything with their love and so they stay with hard situations. what i've learned though--what yoga has taught me--is that self-care has to start with us. it starts with us saying "no" to what doesn't serve us so we can allow what is beautiful. it's in taking care and standing up for ourselves that we truly become of service in this world. it's about making our love so big that encompasses our hearts and all that truth that exists within.

i left nyc calm, with a harmonium (!!!) in hand, and i felt ready to let go over these next few weeks. i'm so grateful for everything i've done in these past months and also grateful that everything comes to an end when it's ready. i like being able to recognize that.


goodbye nyc


hello harmonium!

shawn read this poem in her class last night and it reminded me of all those strong women i've met all over the world who have sustained such hard times and continue to love fiercely and how that love can transform us. thank you for your inspiration and reminding me that love means everything.

Kindness

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.