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creative energy

I experienced my first artist’s high.  Well it was my first in a very long time.  I was painting a watercolor…my subject was a crow. I found myself painting from a place of no effort or intent…what some call flow…what I might call God.  The paint and the crow and I were expressing each other. It was all that I want when I’m painting.  I am the art, I am the subject and the medium…I am in it. Really in it.

All I know right now is that I want to be in it again.

Heavenly Day

Amen Patty Griffin


day one

Thank God this is an at home exercise program…it was bad enough that I humiliated myself in front of Luka(my dog). Eighty nine more days…

my spiritual practice

Life has offered up a banquet of experiences this past year or more that I can say has given me an opportunity to discover what is most important to me. I have noticed much..and in doing soI have rediscovered the beauty of the simplest things.

If I had to define my spiritual practice these days, it might be easier first to point out what it is not.

It is not..


full of rules


attention seeking


What I would say that it quiet, simple, honest, appreciation of the moment. In the moment, being in the moment is my path to equanimity.  As one prone to flights of imagination and melancholy, it is not always easy to be in the moment.  But when I catch myself being otherwise, I can return. The present moment is the only

sure thing.


Got spanked this morning by the P90x fitness test.  Yes, just the test.  I haven’t even done a single workout yet and already I’m wiped out.  But seeing as I am on the bottom of the fit scale, I have so much room for improvement.

I am actually not in horrible shape, but I am not in great shape.  And I want to be in great shape.  So, tomorrow I begin the 90 day exercise program.  I took my before pictures, weighed and measured myself…I’ll update every now and then, see if I’m progressing.  But like I said, there is so much room for improvement, I’m ready.


One summer when I was a child, I created a collection of paper dolls.  I handed crafted each doll..flat, so I could dress them with the tabbed clothing I would also fashion. I cut their hair into thick strands, realistic I felt, but durable. I made them a little apartment out of a shoe box. I made sheets and curtains, a carpet…everything a modest home might have.I had a slew of barbie dolls I could have played with, but I loved the making of my was more fun than the actual playing with them. The dolls were mine, my own creation.

I can still remember how I was, where I was when I made them.  Alone in the basement of my childhood home. I loved our basement…all our toys, crafts, and books were there, along with my brothers’ rooms. We had a low circular coffee table, I would kneel at it, supplies spread around me, lots of working space. To this day I love working low to the ground, if only I could find that table again.

What I remember also, was how I felt when I was alone.  How I loved it.  Aloneless came easily, welcomed even.  It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy the company of others.  I did then, and I do now.  But as I child, I tagged along.  I guess we all tag along as kids…look for the action, feel compelled to be included. Only I always felt awkward.  My sister was so much better at the social end of life.  If it weren’t for her, if I weren’t her twin…I fear I would have had few friends of my own.  …I’m not sure I would have minded that too much.

My life as a child was absolutely influenced by the the fact that my father was in the military.  At a very young age, I learned the rules that governed our family…1) never be an inconvenience 2) appearances are everything. They served me well. Truly.  As a kid who moved frequently these lessons applied directly to fitting in quickly. But the girl who fit in quickly, was never really me. Who I was..was the quiet girl in the basement making beautiful dolls out of paper.

Last night, I spent a quiet evening painting watercolor portraits. The house was lit by a single lamp and my computer screen.  I painted, Luka curled safely on her bed, and I wanted nothing to be different.

I am a yoga teacher

I am heading off to yoga teacher training this morning..this my final month of training. Today I teach.  Months of learning come down to 25 minutes of teaching my fellow yoga students.  I woke up nervous, unexpectantly nervous.  I had anticipated some jitters, but not like this.

I settled myself onto my mat this morning, practiced my sequence, gained some confidence, sat down in a meditation pose and recited aloud some affirmations.

I am a yoga teacher.

I can do this.  And in fact, in one month I will be practicing with the public.  I secured myself a gig at Taborspace for the summer.  Today, will be the first of many teaching experiences.  I can get myself all worked up about this or I can be grateful I am teaching a group of people I love and who really want the best for me, as I do for them.

I choose to be grateful..