Spring green

"Happiness? The color of it must be spring green..."
Frances Mayes

"Momma, your favorite color is green, right?" asks my daughter as we pop sunflower seeds into the ground. "Yes, baby it is," I say.

"Why?" she presses.

Before I can respond: "It's because green makes you happy?" she decides.

And, then: "Momma, you really can never have too many sunflowers. They have lots of green."

Agreed! And—yellow, too, is good!

7th Ave. Street Fair, Phoenix

Look, and look again.
This world is not just a little thrill for the eyes...
You have this day, and maybe another, and maybe
still another... Mary Oliver

Feel like flying?

Do you remember the feeling? I do.

Yesterday I watched my daughter lay belly down on our backyard swing, wind-up the rope as tight as it would go and then let it loose, allowing her to twirl until the twisted rope let out and snapped her slightly back in the opposite direction—legs dangling in the wind all the while and laughter flowing from every fiber of her being.

It sure feels good to fly. It's one of the reasons I love yoga. It certainly does not happen every time I take to my mat. But, sometimes it does—that feeling of effortless levity.

It comes without warning: An exhale that merges perfectly with the apex of a pose. Hands rooted so firmly to the earth that feet float into flight. The indescribable vibration after the sound "om" from dozens of voices merging into one. In the sweetness of silence when mind slides into heart.

Swinging, yoga, gardening, writing, cooking, painting ... whatever your loves and passions are ... allow them to let you take flight.

A chill in the air

"He felt for a moment uncreated. Another kind of awake."
from Let the Great World Spin by Colum McCann

It's been cold in central Arizona. Where have our "just right" sunshiny winter days gone?

Confession: Aside from losing half my winter garden to it, I love the cold spell. It reminds me of the Midwest—the landscape that will always be my heart's geographic home.

Growing up in the Midwest, while the cold of winter could be bone-chilling, I always loved how within a matter of hours a snowstorm could whitewash the landscape from sky to earth. Or, in the case of cold without snow, how parsed and plain everything could look, yet still be beautiful in a pretty girl without make-up kind of way.

In Arizona, we are more accustomed to nature's extreme rise in mercury, but whether it's a harsh, sun-drenched heat or an unusual chill in the air, the shifts serve as reminders of our aliveness and the blessing of embodiment.

Cracks, peels and imperfections

Several years ago, by accident, my husband and I came across the Ten Thousand Buddhas Sarira Stupa near Niagara Falls.

Last week, while in the region, we came upon it again after a visit to the Falls with our children (once more as a result of happenstance, a wrong turn in search of the route back to Toronto).

The Stupa was as I remembered—welcoming and well-cared for, but not kept to perfection, with cracks and peeling paint in abundance.

I liked that about it.

88 Novembers

Earlier this week, I was in the Midwest. The trip was unexpected. Quickly planned.

When I arrived in Wisconsin, the flashiness of fall had given way to autumn's silent slip into winter. The weather encouraged less, not more.

I did little asana. Instead, I gravitated toward long meditation practices wrapped in a quilt made by the hands of someone I loved—someone I had come to say goodbye to, a great spiritual being.

What constitutes a spiritual life?

I pondered this question throughout the days there and as I flew home to Phoenix. Fortunately, I had a good example to turn to for ideas, and my list was surprisingly short:  

Endless love
Fullness in emptiness
Emptiness in fullness
Humility
Playfulness
Contentment
Living one's truth

Perhaps there is more. Certainly, this seems enough to me. Oh, yes, enoughness—that should be on the list, too.

It will take some time to say goodbye. To let go. I haven't yet. Eventually, I will. And, the light will continue on... But, of course, it already has...

A gift wrapped in prana

I can't remember exactly when I started using this formula for my yoga practice (probably sometime after I had my first child and lost brain cells!), but I use it on days when I am really maxed out and too tired to think, plan or organize for one more second!

I start with a simple, basic posture (often adho mukha svanasana) and hold it for ten long breaths. Then, I shift into a counter or complimentary posture (say a basic lunge) and hold it for two breaths. I continue this pattern of one posture for 10 breaths and a counter or complimentary posture for two breaths for the duration of the practice. If a posture is asymmetrical, I hold it for the appropriate amount of breaths on each side.

The longer holds of 10 anchor me to earth's density, while the shorter holds create lightness and connection to spaciousness.

It's a clean, clear way to practice yoga.

No music. Just my breath and me. The asanas and me. Simple and sacred.

A funny thing always happens about halfway through the practice: The breath begins to lead the dance, and I don't have to give any thought to the next posture—it just shows up.

A gift wrapped in prana.