Thursday, March 26, 2015

Not doing

    I've lately been marveling at the things that are resolved by non-action, like the document I was struggling with that got sorted out while I slept.
    If you have been pushing really hard, experiment with not and see what happens.

Don't look

    1,000 times I've heard my yoga teacher say "don't look at what your neighbors are doing".
    Anyway, one of my yoga buddies has made such progress over the past year that I started feeling frustrated at my inability to advance at his pace.
    On Sunday, side by side on shoulder stand, I mentioned we were in a pose considered to be rejuvenating.
    "So?" he asks. "I just turned 26".


Sometimes I walk around in Whole Foods and wonder what I ever did to be dropped into such an abundant, colorful heaven.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

A good reminder

The beating of your heart is a good reminder that the most wonderful things you take care of are related more to your existence than your intervention.

Saturday, March 21, 2015

Proof that you can handle anything

You've managed the most momentous things - your first kiss, friendship, the creation of relationships, your role in family, conceiving your own voice - with no preparation or training. I'm not saying experience isn't critical. I'm saying your past is proof that you come equipped to handle anything.

Friday, March 20, 2015

What we don't know

My dad is in and out of consciousness and only sometimes knows who we are and my siblings and I are sitting around his bed, whispering, waiting. 
"He did have an incredible life" my sibling is saying. "It's like he lived four lives instead of one".
"That you know of" my dad replies.

Thursday, March 19, 2015


My dad is on his death bed, eyes closed, liver distended. I'm lying next to him, his hand in mine, and I'm not even sure if he can hear me.
"Will you take care of me from wherever you go?" I ask.
He smirks. "I will take care of you and intervene even when you wouldn't want me to". 

He was always overprotective. How silly of me to assume death would change that.