This home loves books. Trips to the book store are like visiting Oz, or Wonderland, or Narnia, or Never Never Land. We only come home when we miss real stuff like hugs and good things to eat. Deliveries from Amazon (when we know a book is on its way) are like visits from our faery godmother. Oh-so-happy, we might do a little dance.
We have so many books, we don’t have proper shelves for them all. Books become furniture, coasters, or artistic towers lurking in corners. (more…)
Although, I have many happy memories tip-toeing through tide pools and wriggling my feet in the frothy sighs of the ocean with my grandma (who has lived near the beach my entire life), I do not enjoy beach trips. I’m much more of a mountainy, hiking trail kind of gal. I never have the urge to pack a magazine and a towel and just hang out at the beach. That is, until now. (more…)
When I taught yoga, it wasn’t unusual for a student to weep on the mat during class. Some people feel uncomfortable with tears. In fact, I often do. But as a yoga teacher I didn’t have the freedom to panic. My job wasn’t to stop teaching, ask them what was wrong, fret about it, or otherwise draw attention to their experience. And it certainly wasn’t my place to take it personally if they were having a strong response to the practice. My job was simply to hold space.
All the tissues I passed, adjustments I made, and hands I held helped prepare me for the colossal job of holding space for my son. However, it took me a while to figure this out. (more…)