Fire & Earth

From the moment I saw you, really saw you, sitting on the picnic table outside lighting hand rolled cigarettes with a zippo lighter and hair as smooth as silk, you intrigued me. You always had a interesting presence about you, a sincere curiosity, a provocative imagination always thriving in conversation.You believed in your admirable love for your mother and grandmother and honored the intelligent caretakers around you. You were a God fearing man. I walked up and asked your sign, and you said Capricorn but you can't remember your age, with a smile.

You had strong qualities that were attractive, and when I got to know you deeper, your ideals, your understanding of things and your blind intuition, your love of family, your obsession with the Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit... I couldn't predict how deeply I could fall in love with a whole other person, who is a completely counterpart to me. Then, we got lost in the canyons, deep in snow, climbing the side of cliffs to overlooking contoured earth, moonlit sky, and soaking pools to our own exploration's delight. We've come so far. I've known you with so many adventures and our bliss, stupid-in-love moments shared.

And along the way, when I turned to share my deepest truths with you, I looked into blank eyes. When I held your hand and asked you what you were feeling, I noticed your words and your palm, ice cold. When I called upon you for your service, no longer were you home.

In my heart, that fire still burns, slowly, but the flames were no longer dancing. The flames were not hissing with the wind, nor changing color with cold air. The energy diminished, there was no man there to maintain a steady loving breath on the coals. And, he hadn't been there for quite some time.

In the middle of our honest moments, I rested upon knowing the constant fire cycling between us. It was true, whether we were honest and vulnerable to ourselves, or not. It burned and cooled. But, this time, I burned and you cooled.

The ground beneath your feet is the same ground I walk upon. I share this earth with you, I am here to reflect the vast universe around you and within you. I will not drift lightly into the abyss. The fire, now darkness, is here for our teaching. How we choose to transmute the archetypes, the elements, the signs, is up to you, and me.

Set Sail

I find myself now

 at the end of the day,

Exhausted, depleted, longing, desiring affection.

Someone to call,

that person to anchor in with 

for the night
while the tide goes out.

I hope for the day

 that I can roll up my sail, 

And rock rhythmically alongside the riverfront,

Instead of being the seafaring captain

in ambitious pursuit.

I feel tired.

I long for solitude and the holding.

I haven't had it.

I don't know what it's like. 

I've been taunted and teased with the ideal of leaning into someone. 

I fell like I've seen this man in my dreams.

And, then as we looked deeper and peered in together,

we found that this just could not happen

in real life.

And, why not.

Well, maybe next time.

For now, I pulled my anchors up and
Set Sail.

Yoga Soup for The Soul

When I was eighteen years old, yoga was an attractive physical practice to me for many reasons. It appeared to be the perfect balance between my two favorite things in the world; throwing my body around the stage during rehearsals, and would also wake up early in the morning to get my heart rate up by jogging through the neighborhood right before the sun rose that by the end of my school day my body was so worked my limbs felt like Jello. I needed something strengthening, toning, integrative, and creative.

I loved dance but I knew I wasn’t going to be able to do it forever, and running was my current voyager, until I landed in my first Bikram class in 2004. The practice was invigorating and relentless, a true challenge for me and my genetic stamina. I showed up to yoga class, and cranked on my limbs so they would stretch and bend like putty, reshaped into the deepest postures where I could feel my heartbeat pulsing, and feel my sweat dripping in places that I never thought possible. When I laid down intosavasana at the end of the class, there was nothing but me and my breath because I was so damn tired, and hungry for more.

After my first year of training, I began to notice beautiful thing happens underneath the surface. My concentration, sweat, will power, and flexibility began to come together. My body began to communicate with me. At first, it was through pain and exhaustion. Then, other things began to happen. My sleeping and eating cycle began to revolve around my yoga schedule. It became easier to listen to what my body needed instead of wanted. When I knew I was going to be doing hot yoga later on that day, I began to make healthy decisions about how I wanted my body to feel during the practice.

After attending my yoga practice regularly, I recognized these little considerations began to infiltrate every day and every moment. I spent a few minutes before each class centering myself because I knew I was in for an hour of excruciating hell. I was engaging muscles I didn’t even know I had, and tuned into some of the muscles that needed attention. Afterwards, I nourished myself with necessary foods and took care of my muscle soreness with conscious thoughts and healing care.

It was an effortless process to begin considering myself. And, as I continued, I practiced more and more, and dove deeper to find more sources of practice that I could add to more areas of my life. I wanted it to continue to grow outside of me, bigger than me. It was the encouragement I needed to begin really looking at myself, without judgment.

In this journey, I am reminded of that everyday, just by the way my body moves, and my thoughts speak to me. Yoga practice is the time I take to fully listen. Classes give me the opportunity and the practice weaves itself more into the threads of each day. My mat has become the nurturer, my breath is the teacher, my body is the vessel, and yoga is soup for my soul.