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
Pandemonium Journal 3/12/22 — the glass bowl
Objects with a history follow your imagination into the past carving out their own stories. Years ago, my mother gifted me a glass bowl. A few months ago while visiting her, she told me once again to take the bowl home with me and I finally shipped it across the prairies from her Ontario farm.
Pandemic Journal — My visit to Tamworth, Ontario 30/8 – 2/9 22
Forty-eight years after after our last meeting, Hans and I rendezvous in Tamworth, Ontario, where he lives. A picture perfect village with a glorious bookstore. I feel such profound pleasure in experiencing this Ontario landscape. My return to Ontario is a homecoming. We recognize each other, Hans and I. Late in life, we think we know more than we knew then. Bookends in life. Today: Hans and I perform the present very well —a loving friendship with healed hearts this many years later.
Pandemic Journal 26-28/8/22 — Blossoming at Bloom Holistic Retreat
This Bloom Holistic Retreat weekend yoga is splendid. Not only are the Octopus Holistic Yoga teachers superb, but the sumptuous setting and convivial fellow participants are thoroughly welcoming. We create a beautiful nourishing community of fellow travelers in just a few days. The retreat is a luxurious reward to myself after a year of heavy steroid and biologic medication to treat the sudden onset in the summer of 2021 of Giant Cell Arteritis, an auto-immune condition - now in remission.
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.