Fighting Change Since 1979

Sometimes it’s realllly annoying when the Universe keeps throwing lessons at you that you know you need to learn. (Yeah yeah yeah, I get it already.)

My favorite yoga teacher is leaving my studio, and I feel absolutely gutted about this announcement. (I’ve feared it for a long time, actually, and deep down I worry that I squash out things I rely on/cling to too much.) And because of this, I know there is a greater lesson in this all. As one smart friend consoled, “Change is hard. I’m pretty sure that’s why we do yoga.”

I know my devastation might sound silly/overly dramatic to those who don’t *get* it, but to me, C is so much more than an instructor of yoga. She is a wise guru, a sage mentor, a steady constant in times of flux and unknown. Her classes are my therapy on some days, my church on others.

And I know that life is all about change and transitioning and evolving and growing, but man is this lesson hard to live out time and again. So I’m just going to sulk over here for a wee while longer. But don’t worry, I’ll adjust, adapt, re-acclimate. After all, we always do. (What’s the alternative?)

Fragile Times

There is a crooked tree out the window that keeps catching my eye. There is blue sky and yet there is rain, and it seems to be a day of contrasts in so many ways.

I have bubbly local music in my ears, and there is impassioned, light convo going on around me in one of my favorite coffee-fueled spaces. All of this, and my heart feels heavy knowing what’s going on across the ocean, around the globe, heck even here very much on US soil and in all our own backyards.

The Brussels news is the the first thing I saw this morning on my phone, and I’ve been avoiding the real news all day, because I don’t need to (don’t want to) see the details. It’s deja vu, and it’s too much. It is too awful, too sad, too scary, too too too.

So I bury my head in the sand a bit in today’s semi-sunny Seattle bubble and try to live out those mottos of seeing the light and being the light and yada yada yada, even though sometimes words like this seem silly in the midst of such confusing, fragile times. I focus on who I love and what I love and how I can extend any amount of love into the spaces I enter to make this often dismal, sick world even one ounce lighter.

It doesn’t feel like much. (At all.) But at least it feels like something.

 

Welcome, Year!

I love when my birthday falls in the calendar year.
I love its ring: 3/3.
I love that it lands in the midst of a blah-ish stretch, yet on the cusp of a new, hopeful season.
I love that it arrives when winter’s felt long, and the blossoming of spring finally feels within reach.

I love that it comes just when I (and others) seem to need a bit of a boost, and this year—even more than usual—I felt absolutely showered by and immersed in love.

I am so lucky, I am so thankful, and I can’t wait to see what goodness this year has in store.