Tag Archives: Yoga

Wishcasting Wednesday

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image from Jamie's post

What do you wish to experience?

Contentment. Satisfaction and peace, surrender and acceptance, ease and relaxation, fearlessness and joy, simplicity and engagement.

Love. On every channel, all the time, 24/7. Know it, feel it, be it. Love, love, love. And then, more love. Keep it coming, keep it going.

Health. Full body and full life wholehearted and embodied wellness. I want to light up, shine with it, glow, radiate.

Confidence. Certainty, courage, daring, determination, faith, tenacity.

Self-love. This is most likely a combination or culmination of the rest, what is at the center, the heart of everything else, its foundation, but it seems to be worth an independent mention. I want to move through the hours and days of my life with supreme confidence in my innate wisdom, compassion, strength, and fundamental goodness.

That part of the list is states of being, but there are also “things” I wish to experience.

Playing the ukulele well enough that I wouldn’t embarrass myself. The secret wish underneath is to someday be able to do a duet with Danielle Ate the Sandwich. Just once, please. But I have a lot of work to do first, like learning to play.

Publication. I’m okay without it. I have a full writing life, even if it never happens. Writing is like prayer for me, a spiritual practice, and I am utterly devoted to it. But…I’d also like to be published, as in paid for my work, as in people curled up in hammocks or in front of a fire on the couch cuddling with their dog reading my books.

Paid work that isn’t work, but rather pure love, aligned with my calling, maybe even God’s work. I’ve said it before and it bears repeating that I don’t need what I love to pay my rent, or turn into a business, and yet…it might not be the worst thing if what I love, the work I would do regardless, the thing that wakes me up in the middle of the night thinking and planning, the stuff that makes me wake up and rise at 4:30 am every morning, and the money, the means to take care of what needs taken care of, would be in the same location at the same time, would feed each other, work together, and then I could just do what I love, all the time, instead of trying to juggle full-time paid work with everything else I want to do. It is sometimes like trying to live two lives, and that can be exhausting, and lonely.

Hike the Appalachian Trail with Eric.

My very own writing cabin.

A whole summer in Amsterdam.

Dathun, a month long meditation retreat at Shambhala Mountain Center.

An in-person workshop with Brene’ Brown.

P.S. The magic power of wishing, part two: Holy wow! Brene’ is going to be in Boulder for a two day workshop in May, and I am going.

A yoga retreat with my friend and yoga teacher Jessica.

A writing workshop with Natalie Goldberg.

Church with Anne Lamott.

A meet-up with Susannah Conway. Really, what I would love is a long weekend on the beach with her, writing and blogging and taking pictures and talking and taking long naps and eating and laughing.

P.S. The magic power of wishing: I just found out this morning, less than 24 hours after making this post, that Susannah is going to be at the World Domination Summit, and has proposed a writing workshop. Even if the workshop doesn’t go (it so will), there is a very real chance that I am going to be able to at least tell her in person how much I adore her. I can hardly believe it, but it’s true!

Walk and talk with Mary Oliver. This is most likely the craziest wish on this list, but I would just love to be near her and able to tell her just once in-person how much I love her, how much her words have meant to me.

Swim without fear.

Hike with Judy Clement Wall.
A walk on the beach with Julia.
Take pictures or paint with Andrea Scher.
Sit with Jen Lemen at her kitchen table.
Sit in stillness with Erica Staab.
Meditate with Susan Piver, (oh wait, I actually get to do this in a few weeks!).
Discuss writing with Margaret Atwood, and not embarrass myself.
Trust over a cup of tea with Kristin Noelle.
Make art with Patti Digh.
Take a yoga class with Jennifer Louden.
Ask Pema Chödrön one million questions.
Take a Nia class with Jamie Ridler.
Go on tour with Aimee Mann.
Teach an art and writing class for girls with Kandyce.
Draw with Hugh MacLeod.
Listen to Neil Gaiman read.

I could keep going with this list forever and ever…so many good people doing so much good stuff and I want to just hang out with them and soak up all that goodness and tell them to their sweet faces how much I adore them.

Gratitude Friday

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This post is a mashup of The Little Bliss List and Joy Jam, and as such is meant to celebrate: the little things that brought me hope and happiness this week, the sweet stuff of life, those small gifts that brought me joy this week. By sharing them, I not only make public my gratitude, but maybe also help you notice your own good stuff and send some positive energy out into the world.

1. Sunday’s hike. I wrote about it here, and am still riding on the high of that day, almost a week later. Something big softened and shifted for me that day, and I’m so grateful it did. It was magic. It was medicine.

2. The fresh start of Spring. Everything is coming out and alive again, and it’s early enough in the warm season that we can sit in the back yard in the evenings without having to fight the mosquitoes. A few nights ago, I sat on the back step in kind of a funk, until all three of my boys came out to play, ran around the yard, chasing each other and wrestling and rolling in the grass, and my whole mood lifted, and my heart felt so light, both full and open. It was magic. It was medicine.

3. My 6:30 am yoga class. I’ve been going for over four years now, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning, and even though people have come and gone (and then come back again), there is a pretty consistent group of people. If I am in a bad mood, they always cheer me up. If I am struggling, they always manage to help me shift things, soften me up. This morning in shavasana, with Deva Premal singing and our teacher moving around the room adjusting our shoulders, all of us relaxed and wrapped up in blankets, resting together after practice like naptime in preschool, my heart swelled with love and thanks. It was magic. It was medicine.

4. Video by Susannah Conway in my Blogging from the Heart class. She only makes a few during the course of the class, but it’s so nice to see her face, her smile, hear her voice (she has the most divine accent) and her laugh. She’s smart and funny and kind. This week’s video had me in tears, not because of the subject matter, but because of her–the way she reminds me to love myself, to trust my worth, to have faith in my dreams. It was magic. It was medicine.

5. The Universe says “yes,” again. I was having a rough morning, one of those mornings when the nasty voices of doubt and self-criticism swirl around my head like a nest of yellow-jackets. Then I turned on my computer and saw that one of my very favorite people, someone whose work, her life and her self, her way of being in the world, inspires me and encourages me, had subscribed to follow my blog. I was both humbled and excited, and it truly felt like a reminder from the Universe that yes, I am doing what I need to, what I should, what I have to, yes, this is the right way, keep going. It was magic. It was medicine.

6. “Contemplative Arts Teacher.” Practicing in the Shambhala tradition, contemplative art is not a new concept to me. And, similarly, the idea that there are teachers for each specific tradition isn’t a surprise. However, this past week, I stumbled across a website (can’t even remember how or where now) where the author described herself as a Contemplative Arts Teacher. It felt a little like it did when I was in the 2nd grade and realized that the books I loved reading so much where written by “authors,” people whose job it was to write. I became aware of this new possibility, and felt a longing, deep and true, felt like something I had always wanted without being fully conscious of it had been revealed and named. Gobsmaked. It was magic. It was medicine.

7. Another reminder that while everything is impermanent, and reality can be messy and hard, everything is also beautiful and brilliant. As Pema Chödrön so perfectly says, things “come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.”

I watched Rocky go last Friday, felt his heart stop, which brought me right back to having to let Obi go, and then losing Kelly, but in that grief is also so much love, so much grace. And yesterday, I watched this video, of Honey the Great Dane and her kitty best friend Lemon, born on the same day and raised together. The end of the story is so sad, with Lemon contracting a mysterious virus and passing at age five, but what is so wonderful is watching them interact and be friends, playing and lounging, being together so happily. It reminded me that while our time together is so short and loss hurts, there is so much love and joy, too. It was magic. It was medicine.