Tag Archives: fears

Going Through It


As I sort through boxes of papers,
kids’ drawings, greeting cards,
old photos, clippings,
my drawings, lists upon lists
of ideas, plans, goals,
as I survey many more boxes to go through,
boxes of stuff…random bits…
appliances, cleaning products,
textiles of every kind,
doodads and thingamabobs,
it brings new meaning to the phrase
Going through it.
I, my friends, am really
Going through it.
I’m going through layers upon layers
of the life I shared with another
when we were married,
when we were a family of four.
He left and took what he wanted.
He left me responsible for the rest.
I am going through it.
It strikes me as odd and yet fitting,
that I would need to take my old life
with me to this new place
in order to see how my old life
doesn’t fit in here.
I had to feel this feeling of my old life not fitting
in order to go through it and release
what no longer serves,
what is too heavy,
too laced with old memories.
I didn’t feel safe letting go in the old house.
Somehow the old things protected me.
But I had to leave the house we shared;
it’s no longer mine, or his.
So I took all our stuff with me,
and crammed it into my new space,
a smaller space,
a much smaller space.
Boxes and bags and bins
and little pathways in between,
it has felt like a hoarder’s den
the last few days,
as I carted the last bits
from the old to the new.
I see now:
My old life is choking the new.
I had to feel this.
I had to feel this discomfort.
I had to feel this feeling
of drowning in my old life,
surrounded by what no longer works,
so that I could clear some space
to welcome the life that wants to be lived
when I’m willing to stand in the present moment,
in spaciousness,
in trust,
in a willingness to feel what is alive, right now.

Dear Yoga Students


Dear Yoga Students,

Thank you. Thank you for coming to class for all the reasons that bring you. I’m so grateful to have this opportunity to breathe with you, to listen to the sounds of life around us, to explore movement, to find stillness,  to be mindful.

In this crazy world of activity, of to do lists, families, careers, commutes, obligations, dreams, hopes, regrets, fears, and courage, I’m so grateful that we have this practice of yoga to bring us home to ourselves, and a place to practice together, to come home together, in community.

I’m grateful to the highway that took me into DC  this morning, the highway that was free-flowing for part of the way, but then which became extremely congested, right at the last leg of the journey. I was worried I wouldn’t make it to you–my yoga students–on time, as I crawled along route 50 at fifteen miles per hour. I managed to make it to L street just as class was scheduled to begin. I remembered to breathe before I tried to teach you how to remember to breathe.

It was a busy day. A class in the morning, two classes in the evening. I taught forty-two students today; forty-three if I count myself. I’m so grateful to have this job where I see you transform right before my eyes. You come in a bit frantic, sometimes looking haunted, bewildered, distant, distracted. And then we breathe and move together. We sit together, stand together, and at the end, we lie down together. We’re each on our own mat, in our own space, but we’re all inextricably connected, absorbed in the field of being.

When you emerge from this place of being, you look positively radiant. Your faces are beautiful beyond description. You’ve come home to yourselves, for one moment you’ve remembered who you really are. When I see you like this, I feel fulfilled. Your happiness gives precious meaning to this one life of mine.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, dear yoga students. I’m so grateful for you. I love my job.