An almost perfect day unfolds one moment after another.
A Near Perfect Day
Category: retirement
Yoga’s Autumnal Equinox
Our summer and fall have been especially beautiful in the capital city of Alberta, Edmonton. Summer days are warm or cool - not sweltering as they have been elsewhere.This September, the days are balmy. The garden blooms in late-summer nearing autumnal madness. The nights grow cooler reminding us of change. And today, the autumnal equinox announces our mid-point. A time of reassessment for some. A moment to rebalance for others. ...I am thinking with admiration of my brother who called yesterday to say he was in the hospital mending his heart.
I feel so fortunate to be able to teach yoga into my seventies. It brings me joy.
A New Class I have a new class beginning in January at the Strathcona Community League Tuesdays from 10-11:15am MST for 8 weeks from Jan 7 - Feb 20. Register here. My ongoing Saturday morning class 9:15-10:30 at the Westwood Unitarian Congregation is attended by a wonderful group of students. Join us any Saturday at… Continue reading I feel so fortunate to be able to teach yoga into my seventies. It brings me joy.
The Beauty of Yoga
My co-teacher Veronika and I prepare to teach in our 300-hour Octopus Garden Holistic Yoga Advanced Teacher Training We came full circle. In about 1981, I introduced yoga to Kim Echlin, a fellow PhD student, now accomplished writer of many novels and other works. Kim remains my dear lifelong friend. The late inspiring Esther Myers… Continue reading The Beauty of Yoga
Pandemic Journal 27/6/22 — “Come into my garden” or Asteya, stealing time
Experience life just as it is… Sweet June. Is she of Summer or of Spring,Of adolescence or of middle-age?A girl first marvelling at touch of loversOr else a woman growing ripely sage?Between the two she delicately hovers,Neither too rakish nor, as yet, mature.She's not a matron yet, not fully sure;Neither too sober nor elaborate;Not come… Continue reading Pandemic Journal 27/6/22 — “Come into my garden” or Asteya, stealing time
Pandemic Journal 12/2/22: The Bridge – what yoga means to me
Yoga means “to yoke”, to join, to bridge. “Only connect”, wrote novelist E M Forester when I read his famous novel Howard’s End in my first undergraduate English class in 1969. My professor said: Only connect. For me, now more than fifty years later, yoga’s connections expand into a rejuvenation of the body and the mind. Yoga means holding out for more. Not giving up or giving in. It means giving up. Giving in. Yoga means sensual pleasure and the erotic spring. It means contemplative disembodied reflection. Yoga means somewhere between these spaces of opposition - an ease in whatever emerges.
No Gate No Lock 