What’s true? What’s true is that I don’t have much to say. I am listening deeply, and I have learned so much in this short space of months I can hardly believe it. I have cavorted in the Aegean with my beloved teacher/friend Tara Judelle. I have made pilgrimage to two sacred sites – both of which have healed and charged me with new found intention. I have taken time off from my normally busy schedule to lay around and shoot the breeze – an utterly revelatory choice for a child of the workaholic American 1980’s. I have been earthed, bathed, baptised by fire, and incited by the wind. Hands were lain on me in a call to bring forward my deepest healing. I have been blessed by a collective of such luminous healing mother/sister/daughters, that I thought I might explode with joy. Spirit is alive and on the rise in my sphere, now more than ever.
When I was running through names for the retreat that I am holding with Tara Judelle in June, my mind/heart kept circling around the theme of wisdom.
This is a word I associate with Tara and her beautiful teachings; I’ve seen more than one student pierced through by the clarity and truth of her words, moved to tears. I have continually found her ability to truth-speak astounding; it’s very much an inspiration for my own teaching.
A few days ago, I woke up with a little tickly feeling in my upper chest. It’s spring, and the pollens are in full force, so I presumed I was having a little rare allergic response. On the East Coast of the US I used to suffer from hay fever, and though I rarely have anything here in the UK, I was aware that I had not been as perfectly strict in my gluten-free dairy-free diet… I had had a bit of alcohol to drink in celebration… I had compromised the ideal circumstances for my body to respond to the environment optimally.
My life is full of extraordinary good fortune.
I have suffered from abuse, depression, and an complete lack of self worth. I have been despondent and craven in the face of the challenges of my life.
When I was at home for thanksgiving, I was digging through some old pictures, and I ran into a picture of me from more than 20 years ago, in the departure lounge at Philadelphia International Airport, heading off to Heathrow for the first time on my own. I was embarking upon my first great flight into my future, moving to London, full of determination to ‘make it’ in the art world; full of bravado and moxie. These shots of my brother and I goofing around don’t show anything of what happened moments later, which I recall like it was yesterday:
Ceci n’est pas une professeur de yoga.
I can remember sitting in Amy Ippoliti‘s class at Crunch Gym, on Lafayette Street, in New York in 2000. She was brightly sharing her capacious know-how with a room-full of amazed gym goers, who were, like me, surprised and delighted by the depth of what she was sharing – and the ease of her presence – and the general hilarity of the atmosphere. I remember the kindling of the desire, even then – to teach yoga.
Which I poo-pooed, of course.
Hello Dear One,
How have your holidays been?
I am delighted to greet you after a record 12 hour sleep! Having a few days to sloth around and let myself be has been the best therapy of recent memory. I recently asked in class: ‘How many of you had a rough 2012?’. And many of you raised your hands (like I did). And so 2013 was, for many of you, how it was for me – like being the one-man clean up brigade in New Orleans the day after Mardi Gras.
I hope that this message finds you fulfilled and delighted on this glorious summer day.
I am just back from the most radiant retreat in Joshua Tree, California. Immersed in deep practice, surrounded by likeminded people, settled in quiet, and shimmering in 40 degree heat, I felt sweet shift within – a delicious melting away of resistance to life. An awakening to another marvellous level of life’s intrinsic beauty. It was ecstatic – but totally ordinary. Sumptuous – and light.
When I was living at the Omega Institute in upstate New York, I used to go on these four mile walks around the lake each day. I had just been though a really hard time in my life, and was still recovering. The walks started as a hangover from my deranged fitness routine – when I had lived in Berlin the year before, I wouldn’t allow myself to eat dinner unless I had swum at least 20 laps in the cold pool at the outdoor Schwimmenbad. It’s so incredible, how many young women faced, like me, such weird ideas about body image that we literally starve ourselves and put ourselves through dreadful rituals of self-diminishment. I was convinced that if I didn’t at least walk everyday, that I would gain weight, and utterly lose control.
Photo by Robert Moses Joyce
Hello Dearest,
I wonder where you are while reading this? Are you on your I-pad by the sea, or ferreting away a little time to yourself whilst at work? Are you feeling well? Wilted by the humidity? Wherever you are this summer, I hope you are resourced in beneficial ways, and able to enjoy this wild ride of life…
Recent Posts
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This is Not a White Life May 3,2019
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From a 20-year Fridenship Comes a Call to Self-Care March 16,2019
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Awakening the light of eternal love December 27,2018
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