A few pretty pics, Neil Patrick Harris, and your Monday morning reads.

And a fine Monday morning to you.

It's moving week around these parts, so the last few days have meant a lot of Malasana whilst cleaning out the cabinets and Virasana whilst sorting through old paperwork. Not the most well-rounded of asana practices, but you take what you can get.

Happy to say we're decently ahead of schedule — amazing how doing little bits at a time can make everything seem much more manageable. Few pics here for you to get a sense of the new little fairytale world we are about to inhabit. I am crazy about the porch (screams out for rocking chairs), that dutch door, and the chicken coop, in particular. And don't even get me started on the rhododendrons and the camellias.

V. exciting, indeed.




Can't wait to join the deer and the foxes and the hummingbirds in making this lush little knoll our home.


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In other news:

Our next book club gathering is tomorrow night!

Please join us for all the action at OMpower Cycling & Yoga. 7pm start, 5:15 if you wanna do a little yoga first. I'm just loving The Buddha Walks Into A Bar. In particular, Lodro Rinzler's perspectives on relationships, work, and keeping it real. And keeping it gentle. (Plus, short chapters. Note to self: short chapters make the reader feel very accomplished. Follow suit.)

I feel like Buddhism has really given me that word in a new way of late. Gentleness. It's big on my radar these days. Pema Chodron uses it a lot, as does Susan Piver, as does Rinzler himself. He employs it here in the spirit of gentle curiosity.

What if we could approach that difficult manager with a spirit of gentle curiosity, instead of judgment? What if we could approach that achy lower back with a spirit of gentle curiosity, instead of resentment? What if we could approach that terrifying exam with a spirit of gentle curiosity, instead of abject fear? What if we could approach our own tequila-soaked raging hangover with a spirit of gentle curiosity, instead of self-flagellation?

Every relationship you're in — whether it's the relationship with your manager, your lower back, your schoolwork, or your favorite mood-altering substance — is a teacher. Especially the prickly, difficult, complicated ones. Can you soften enough to see that?

That's our work. To just keep softening.

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Melon season is in order. Just ate half a cantaloupe for breakfast. The other half will follow shortly. Cherries on the grocery shelves, too, and a farmer's market that starts very, very soon. Good news in the fruit department. 

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We don't have a TV and haven't had one for a few years (yes, that's on purpose), but I manage to catch what I can here and there (the big stuff, you know, like Super Bowls and Academy Awards and whatnot). So I missed the Tony Awards last night.

That's kind of on purpose, too. Every time I watch a musical anymore I get ants in my pants and want to go drink heavily to numb the nagging underlying desire to rewind back to about 22 y.o. and follow a different life path. Hoofin' it onstage and all, you know. So every time I see a tap dancing bear or a Rockette kicking her nose or whatever I feel these deep twinges of existential sorrow and regret and angst and you know, the usual. Point being, because of that, sometimes I don't watch these shows. You know, to avoid all that.

But this morning everyone's talking about Neil Patrick Harris and what a remarkable job he did. And it's true. He's a marvel. Check it out. So damn good.



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Here's a beautiful piece from the NYT featuring Mark Morris on dance, aging and immortality. Read it. I love seeing the parallel ways in which mindfulness and embodiment manifest across artistic disciplines.


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Can I share a little wisdom from two teachers who inspire me?
Anna Guest-Jelley: "Pose modifications should just be called poses. No one's pose ever looks the same, so we should let ourselves off the hook for that."
(Yes! This yoga is not one size fits all. Did you know Anna is coming out with an anthology on yoga and body image soon? Keep an eye on her. She's sensational.)
Judith Hanson Lasater: "Partings are inherent in all meetings. Jai!"
(Right? Yes. We enter into every relationship/job/breath/trip knowing it will one day end. Such is the nature of being. Cue the law of impermanence.)
I follow both of these women on Twitter and so admire their abilities to dispense sage wisdom in fewer than 140 characters. Highly recommend following them, along with the brand new account from one Hillary Clinton herself. (Too cute! Did you see how she described herself? Love the lightness.)

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    On that grrrl power note: I can't believe I haven't shared this article with y'all yet. It rushes me right back to about age 8, and speaks to me in so many ways. Nodded my head along with it the whole way through. I would like to lend my old dogeared copy of this novel to every little girl I know:

    Ten Things I Learned From Loving Anne of Green Gables
    1. How to read
    2. How to recognize a love story
    3. How to do magic
    4. How to do things with words
    5. How to be alone
    6. How to be amused
    7. How to be a critic
    8. How feminism is in the details
    9. How to be queer
    10. How to have it all

    The author writes:
    "When I talk about loving Anne with dear friends who also love Anne, we are not advocating particular novels so much as we are describing loving words, loving the past, loving names, loving Megan Follows, loving and being loved by your friends even when they don’t fully understand you, loving reading in the corner at a slumber party while everyone else watches TV, loving a long walk, loving, most of all, the ability to find a sense of place. What we are saying is that Anne was our wardrobe, our tornado — our portal to the capacity within ourselves to make the mundane world magical. 'Dear old world,' Anne murmurs, in what is to me her most important moment, 'You are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you.'"

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    Ram Dass talks about our life experiences as the "curriculum" of our learnings. I love that. What if everything that frightens or annoys or worries you is just your curriculum? Your must-learn lessons that come to you at the right time, just like Cursive Handwriting met you in 3rd grade, and Algebra met you in 8th? Yes. That perspective takes the electric charge out of every potentially challenging moment.

    (Here's a great article Ram Dass wrote about consumerism. Read it the other day. Highly recommend.)

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    Thanks to Recovering Yogi for the heads-up on this level of yogic wrongness. Sigh. Just when you think the bridal industry is an insurmountable behemoth as it is, you meet the marriage of bridal industry + yoga industrial complex.

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    Speaking of RY, I've had grammar on the brain of late. This is not a new fixation. But it's been bubbling up again over the last few weeks. If I see one more flagrant misuse of the word "peek," I might explode. Just to be clear: a "peak" is that thing at the top of a mountain. A "peek" is when you sneak a little look at something. Mindful spelling is just one other way to be fully present in your life, yo.

    Fore realz.

    (Heh heh.)

    That's what I've got for you on this cool, grey Monday morning. A melange of this and that, with a little musical-theater booty-shaking for good measure. Love from (moving, dusting, packing, boxing) paradise. Have a beautiful week. I foresee some sun salutations on that wooden porch up above in the very, very near future. And a Meyer lemon cake or two, as well.

    Jai!

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