I used to breeze by the exercise classes for seniors on my way to an intermediate yoga class or the swimming pool or the resistance trainers. Silver Sneakers, ha. I’d never be one of those oldsters doing their exercise sitting down, at least not for a long time.
This was not so long ago. Before the wrist pain made Downward Dog impossible and yoga less enjoyable. Continue reading
It is the first morning of Wood Thrush song, so loud and close I don’t recognize it at first. The flute-like whistles sound shrieky up close, but up close you can also hear the quiet churrs and burbles that follow the whistles. It is stunning. I sit on the porch and start to write but I can’t write while that is going on.
As I write that I can’t write, the song stops and then takes up again much farther off, as if the thrush is respecting my territory. Continue reading
In which I learn that change comes with two steps forward, one step back; that obstacles are often best overcome by going around, taking a different route, rather than plowing through; that the biggest obstacles are internal; and that the most limited commodity is willpower. Continue reading
the practical mystic 