spent gratitude

i am grateful for…

1) the lovely yogis and yoginis i get to interview once in a while. who remind me why i love yoga and how to practice so that it’s not just an ass-enhancing event. who remind me of the difference between yoga and, say, pilates: attention, attunement, expansion through subtle psychological, emotional, and physical exploration. to be more curious than aggressive with myself, without collapsing into “i can’t.” balance, balance, balancing. yoga is an inside job. we can expand from a flowing, soft, open core out into strong, stable bodies and lightly inquiring, kind minds.

2) buying myself pink carnations today

3) feeling spent in a good way, like i am unburdened of some yuckness born of emotional stagnancy, relieved of something i didn’t even have a name for.

4) s’s moving, awesome page one story in the nyt today about a man who rescued his parents in haiti. read.

5) bathtubs

6) magical, beautiful snow

7) staying with myself even when i feel like such an idiot. you know the “uhg, i can’t believe i said that” moments that feel like a big deal to you at least? and then instead of doing anything, just feeling the hot acid flush of shame, or whatever that is, blaze your face, and taking a few tight, shallow, but conscious breaths, and doing the next thing.

8) doing the next thing. really. that phrase has saved my life over and over and over. thanks, c.

9) perfect, fluffy-sticky snow-ball snow–tossed bare-handed

10) the notion of snowga!

11) construction paper

12) non-fat greek yogurt

13) my uncle george, who died yesterday. realize i’m burying the lead, but: he was funny and full of laughter with a gigantic belly, loose lungs, full head of black hair, and grew the most amazing tomatoes and chillies in his southern california backyard. i learned to play croquet on that hyper-mowed bright green lawn that felt like rough carpet and was bordered with lemon trees. and when i was little, a blond boy named ricky lived next door and he was, i thought, my personal ricky schroeder even though we talked once a year until i was 10 or so. george had tons of food for anyone who crossed the threshold and he loved his dogs, two kids, and three wives, especially the last one, and taught me, or showed me, ideal hosting with his bottomless generosity and genuine, uncley care. r.i.p., georgie. we miss you already.