One of Na'la's superpowers is in the fine art of the check-in. When Na'la and I sit down to talk, time loses all relevance. We've become so absorbed in conversation that she has literally missed flights.
Majda has taught me about the sacred and the sacrifice. Driving up to a mountain retreat, the Harvest Moon nestled into the valleys between the peaks like an exclamation point, we wrestled with conceptions around time, space, and our own bodies.
When I hear the word compassion, my first thoughts dance around the act of offering it: offering someone compassion. There's always an object, a recipient of the compassionate act. And how rare it is that I am the object of my own compassion . . .
When choosing a word to represent something I wanted more of in my life, I boldly declared it to be my year of Presence. And then immediately wrote Joy on the first rock to find me.
It's easier to think of myself as a human becoming than a human being, and I am currently learning: . . to always have time for tadasana, . . to sing Middle Eastern maqams in the morning with a Siamese cat, . . to sew the perfect pair of knickers, . . that there is… Continue reading A Work in Progress