Today I taught my first restorative yoga class. I've taught meditation, yin, yoga nidra, slow flow, and gentle flow/challenge, but never restorative. I'm sharing my class teaching with an another amazing teacher, as we are able to organize our every-other-weekends (hers with a daughter in travel sports, me with my 500-hour meditation teaching coursework), and …
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I was settled, I could make do, no problem, but the space of a table really felt good to me. In that moment, I realized that as the perpetual giver, learning to receive without expectation is a lesson I needed to work on.
Some days I look like hot garbage. Some days I look polished and proper. But every day I show up--and ultimately, that practice of presence is the most important facet in the life of a writer.
I have struggled with allowing people to see my creative side forever, so about a year or more ago, I started doing these little time-lapse videos of my Morning Pages sessions on my Instagram.
I have been battling lots of overwhelming thoughts, which is unusual for me. Today's space was magical, liminal, and helped me see the reality of some of my mind's created illusions. Clarity is such a beautiful thing.
After spending the night in a cabin on my parents' property, I'd hoped to wake to a bright, yellow sunrise but was instead treated to a dense, heavy fog, a remainder of last night's long, steady rain.
My triggers are personal, but the struggle to rein in my mind's chatter around the issue of self-worth, I believe, is universal. We all have moments that we doubt whether we're worthy of the things we desire. We're human. We're here to work through those things.
Enter my daily gratitude practice, or, as I have come to affectionately term it, my String of Tiny Joys. Each of those sparkling, tiny moments became a lifeline of sorts, a way to lift me up and move me forward when I often had no idea where I was headed.
We may lose and we may win But we will never be here again So open up, I'm climbin' in And take it eeeeeasy....
Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone.Lord Byron
I'm running on fumes today, and with trick-or-treat being last night (and kids being loaded to the gills and backpacks with candy today), I am getting through in whatever way I can. === This meme summarizes my yesterday so perfectly, I almost think Pinterest was listening to my conversations. It probably did, knowing social media …
I enjoyed writing to the inspiration of Beetley Pete's post so much yesterday (see it here) that I've decided to continue it in a tiny string of joys and see how long I can keep it up. I am a habitual creature by nature and zodiac alike, being a Taurus sun and Taurus moon, so …
I have started no fewer than 6 blog posts in the last 7 days to reintroduce myself to longer writing after this daily poetry stint (it's not over, I just feel called to write differently) and I am struggling. Mightily, I might add. I can't put my finger on why it's so difficult, but I'm …
I woke up at five am only to journal and walk and coffee and journal again (the second time with John Mayer) writing two things: one poem about broken promises that needs a rewrite for a happier ending (my heart and my readers agree) one ridiculously rough pre-first draft of a humorous epistolic-essay-love letter (it …
Today I just want to be left alone in the rare chilly ache of a lemon August sunrise carefree in my cozy sweater and crazy unkempt sloppy slept-in ponytail cradling my coffee as closely as the soft morning dreams beginning to unfold their delicate petals in the heart spaced breaths between now and when we …
Words by Beth 