The Queen of Bohemia has voyaged to the Great City beyond the desert kingdom. She loved it and her hair looked great. Such a new life, such a new beginning. She was oh, so well-received, the chariot stops along the way were sublime. She was overwhelmed with the art, the culture, and good architecture and soul everywhere. She drank a magic potion, she at the super foods. She has gotten super healthy and her body is transformed and her Queenly outfits new and fresh. Her transformation is complete. Yet now, she misses her children. She misses the King. She yearns to tie up her work in the Great City and continue on the journey to the final place of complete healing – home – to the place before the wounding, and to return to the land far, far away on the other side of the world.
I have been on the east coast for nearly a month now. Having arrived in New York City on July 1, it was a whirlwind of the great city, its art, food, culture, museums, theatre and walk-ability. The King and I had an incredible time, and I slowly let go of old clothing, old pain, old things that remind me of Colorado and the past. Ounce by ounce, the new me emerged, as I shed the heavy weight of yesteryear, the dead energies. I felt it in my body, I felt it in my soul. I don’t have the low-grade anxiety that I felt in my body in Colorado. Surely it’s the change in altitude, the energy, the dry wind and brown prairie and memories that caused it. Now I am free.
New York definitely is not Buenos Aires. You can still feel the edginess, the competitiveness. The buildings have that hard edge and the people are pushy and disconnected and you can detect the corn syrup lodged in the fat cells of their puffy bodies. Everybody is into psychic readings and street portraits. I visited Connecticut and Massachusetts for the first time in my life. Visited Yale campus and saw with my very own eyes a copy of the Guttenberg Bible. New York City was a cooker for the fourth of July, immersed in a heat wave. But it was truly a symbol of independence. The kind of independence that yoga brings and when you are so unbelievably happy. When you are truly in love. When you stop identifying with the ego and firmly root yourself in the transcendent. Everything becomes magical and possible. And so very peaceful. Nothing the outside world can dish up can affect the inner realm, and you just observe the outer world going by like a river. Sat Chit Ananda.
I taught at Kripalu doing my Storytime Yoga kids camp. It was a delight and a joy. Effortless being and feeling complete and whole. Feeling valuable and content. I have arrived. I am home. No place to get, nothing to do. Just be and be with the children. Kripalu wants me back for next year. What a great thing! Currently I am in a coffee shop across from Swarthmore College in Pennsylvania, where I am staying with my friend, Francie, before heading back to upstate New York to the Omega Institute where I will give a teacher training. Then it's back to Colorado for a short stop of tying up still lose ends and letting the kids say more goodbyes.
Above all, I miss my children. I call my kids and regularly talk to them on Skype. Such a wonderful tool that makes science fiction of childhood science fact. There’s not too much to do in San Antonio, as their cousins are older and not around. But they help out at their grandparents and uncle’s house, mow the lawn, eat a lot of barbecue. Their late father’s mother has terrible Alzheimer's and just got out of a body cast from a February car accident. Their grandfather at 82 isn’t supposed to drive but still does and I warn them not to get in the car with him! Considering that San Antonio is suburban hell with no where to walk to to be at any sort of anywhere with a there there, TV is the norm, however, they are also forced to read and play Scrabble. They are learning Spanish from the home health aide, which is a good thing. I also reminded them that their grandparents may not live much longer, so enjoy the moment. And you can always practice yoga, I told them.
I asked them to send pictures. My son sent pictures he took from around his grandparents' house. He sent me picures one by one of our wedding, of our family together when their father was alive, pictures of when they were little kids, big smiles and fat cheeks. I called him to see if he was happy. “Yes,” he said. “I’m sad that Dad died, but still good things happen because of it.” I was delighted at his intelligence and my heart melted. I congratulated him on that piece of wisdom, realizing how adolescents need guides for this part of life to answer questions. I reminded him of the Shipwrecked Sailor story, you cannot judge life. It just is. That is yoga, to see life as it is, and watch the mind and open up to the true mind between the thoughts. How exciting to teach youth at this age. How wonderful to have a child grow and learn to live in the world using yoga and story.
My ex is still trying to wiggle out of repaying his debt to me through bankruptcy. I told him I want my car back. I just let the lawyer take care of it. I have learned to navigate the difficulties, not let anything bother me, mostly. It takes a lot of mindfulness and letting go. Sometimes the demons slip in at night, or I talk it out with the King or a friend, but awareness certainly disintegrates the demons on the spot. Like Kali does to the demons. The blood from the demons don't have a chance to sink into the earth and sprout more demons. She prevents this by licking the blood up with her tongue. A daily sitting meditation and yoga practice does wonders for this. It is freedom. Salvation. An ocean of bliss.
At Kripalu, I ate organic, mostly non-dairy ayurvedic food for 11 days straight. I did at least one yoga class a day. Upon leaving, I was shocked to be in the outside world again. I stopped in a convenience store to ask directons. I was overwhlmeed and amazed at all the junk food packaged up. It was so alien. Cotton candy in a plastic container. In Buenos Aires I remember an old man still making it fresh the old fashioned way at the Sunday San Telmo fair. In the store it was a disconnect, an oddity. What is this? Food? Lots of crinkly packages, pork rinds, processed death in waiting. Francie eats gluten and dairy-free, so when we stopped in New Jersey near Bruce Springsteen’s home town, it was hard to find anything to eat on the menu besides a lot of dairy, barbecued wings or bread. We had some salmon and I ate a salad with blue cheese and bacon. The next morning we both had diarrhea! When I told the cashier at the health food store in Swarthmore about it she said, "Oh, you can't eat anything in Jersey."
At her house in Swarthmore, I returned to the healthy diet. Learned to love kale, quinoa, beets and daikon radish. It’s gotten so much easier to do and I can’t imagine eating the old crap, even if it means I can’t eat out much. Everything becomes so clear and free. My body feels great, it’s tone returning and I’m sure I’ve lost 5 pounds or something as my clothes are getting baggy. We shall see how this all holds up abroad! I did find a few vegetarian and health food stores in Buenos Aires. My daughter was thrilled about eating kale, beets and lentils, but my son less so. We shall see! I'm also excited about homeschooling the kids. To really focus on teaching them and un-schooling them by just showing up somewhere outside the US. Obama's race to the top - what a mess. That is not learning. That is competition and more neurosis disguised as education. I will also be happy to be away from the culture, where America thinks murder is funny. "Sunny with a chance of Homicide," is some show, a picture of an orange stabbed and bleeding on the side of New York buses. Angelina Jolie in Salt is the image for gun culture gone girly and unconsciously joining the ranks of the death cult our society has been in for the past 200 years. I finished reading "Bachelor Girl, the secret history of single women in the 20th century," by Betsy Israel. Required reading for all women. How men and the media try persistently to destroy women's power through the ages, yet wome prevail. I understand my mother, the war they waged against her to be anything but a stenographer or wife. And now they still try to destroy us with gun toting media whores. Yet we ignore it an move forward despite it, remarkably. Durga protects us. I had a dream of a lion chasing some people. So we are fierce! I also thought that the black women who were the sales women at Macy's were in credibly strong, to stand around all day surrounded by images of white women and culture. They still have their pride, their peace inside despite all this infantile crap.
I haven’t watched much television in seven years. I did watch the 2006 Olympics and the 2008 presidential elections. I thought I'd protect my kids from TV, but then Hulu and You Tube came along. I am aware of some things that are on TV because of reading the world’s newspapers every morning online. But I’ve never seen a reality show, don’t know what’s popular on TV or who half of the blondes in wedding gowns on the magazines at the grocery check out lanes are. But I did watch a little TV at Francie’s house last night. On the Discovery Channel we caught the end of a show called Hoarders. I was fascinated that other people live in the shame that was my childhood. Buried alive in things. I contacted the network, as they are looking for participants for the new season. I told them my father’s story. His migraine headaches, my mother, the war. I told them he wants it cleaned out before he dies. We all want the house cleaned out. The final psychic journey of the body, the heart, mind and soul. Really leave the past behind. Because it’s still in the body, still in the tissue. Getting it all out is a miracle, a healing extraordinare. We shall see if the producers call.
All in all, it’s a new life. The seven difficult years are over. The first half of my life is over. It seems like a dream the past, or a bad nightmare. I survived. I persevered, by sheer will power alone. The demons have made me strong, courageous and powerful indeed. The journey continues and I’m not afraid. The Queen of Bohemia has done a good and thorough job of cleaning her own house. And she has told her story. Now onward for the next journey.
I have been on the east coast for nearly a month now. Having arrived in New York City on July 1, it was a whirlwind of the great city, its art, food, culture, museums, theatre and walk-ability. The King and I had an incredible time, and I slowly let go of old clothing, old pain, old things that remind me of Colorado and the past. Ounce by ounce, the new me emerged, as I shed the heavy weight of yesteryear, the dead energies. I felt it in my body, I felt it in my soul. I don’t have the low-grade anxiety that I felt in my body in Colorado. Surely it’s the change in altitude, the energy, the dry wind and brown prairie and memories that caused it. Now I am free.
New York definitely is not Buenos Aires. You can still feel the edginess, the competitiveness. The buildings have that hard edge and the people are pushy and disconnected and you can detect the corn syrup lodged in the fat cells of their puffy bodies. Everybody is into psychic readings and street portraits. I visited Connecticut and Massachusetts for the first time in my life. Visited Yale campus and saw with my very own eyes a copy of the Guttenberg Bible. New York City was a cooker for the fourth of July, immersed in a heat wave. But it was truly a symbol of independence. The kind of independence that yoga brings and when you are so unbelievably happy. When you are truly in love. When you stop identifying with the ego and firmly root yourself in the transcendent. Everything becomes magical and possible. And so very peaceful. Nothing the outside world can dish up can affect the inner realm, and you just observe the outer world going by like a river. Sat Chit Ananda.
I taught at Kripalu doing my Storytime Yoga kids camp. It was a delight and a joy. Effortless being and feeling complete and whole. Feeling valuable and content. I have arrived. I am home. No place to get, nothing to do. Just be and be with the children. Kripalu wants me back for next year. What a great thing! Currently I am in a coffee shop across from Swarthmore College in Pennsylvania, where I am staying with my friend, Francie, before heading back to upstate New York to the Omega Institute where I will give a teacher training. Then it's back to Colorado for a short stop of tying up still lose ends and letting the kids say more goodbyes.
Above all, I miss my children. I call my kids and regularly talk to them on Skype. Such a wonderful tool that makes science fiction of childhood science fact. There’s not too much to do in San Antonio, as their cousins are older and not around. But they help out at their grandparents and uncle’s house, mow the lawn, eat a lot of barbecue. Their late father’s mother has terrible Alzheimer's and just got out of a body cast from a February car accident. Their grandfather at 82 isn’t supposed to drive but still does and I warn them not to get in the car with him! Considering that San Antonio is suburban hell with no where to walk to to be at any sort of anywhere with a there there, TV is the norm, however, they are also forced to read and play Scrabble. They are learning Spanish from the home health aide, which is a good thing. I also reminded them that their grandparents may not live much longer, so enjoy the moment. And you can always practice yoga, I told them.
I asked them to send pictures. My son sent pictures he took from around his grandparents' house. He sent me picures one by one of our wedding, of our family together when their father was alive, pictures of when they were little kids, big smiles and fat cheeks. I called him to see if he was happy. “Yes,” he said. “I’m sad that Dad died, but still good things happen because of it.” I was delighted at his intelligence and my heart melted. I congratulated him on that piece of wisdom, realizing how adolescents need guides for this part of life to answer questions. I reminded him of the Shipwrecked Sailor story, you cannot judge life. It just is. That is yoga, to see life as it is, and watch the mind and open up to the true mind between the thoughts. How exciting to teach youth at this age. How wonderful to have a child grow and learn to live in the world using yoga and story.
My ex is still trying to wiggle out of repaying his debt to me through bankruptcy. I told him I want my car back. I just let the lawyer take care of it. I have learned to navigate the difficulties, not let anything bother me, mostly. It takes a lot of mindfulness and letting go. Sometimes the demons slip in at night, or I talk it out with the King or a friend, but awareness certainly disintegrates the demons on the spot. Like Kali does to the demons. The blood from the demons don't have a chance to sink into the earth and sprout more demons. She prevents this by licking the blood up with her tongue. A daily sitting meditation and yoga practice does wonders for this. It is freedom. Salvation. An ocean of bliss.
At Kripalu, I ate organic, mostly non-dairy ayurvedic food for 11 days straight. I did at least one yoga class a day. Upon leaving, I was shocked to be in the outside world again. I stopped in a convenience store to ask directons. I was overwhlmeed and amazed at all the junk food packaged up. It was so alien. Cotton candy in a plastic container. In Buenos Aires I remember an old man still making it fresh the old fashioned way at the Sunday San Telmo fair. In the store it was a disconnect, an oddity. What is this? Food? Lots of crinkly packages, pork rinds, processed death in waiting. Francie eats gluten and dairy-free, so when we stopped in New Jersey near Bruce Springsteen’s home town, it was hard to find anything to eat on the menu besides a lot of dairy, barbecued wings or bread. We had some salmon and I ate a salad with blue cheese and bacon. The next morning we both had diarrhea! When I told the cashier at the health food store in Swarthmore about it she said, "Oh, you can't eat anything in Jersey."
At her house in Swarthmore, I returned to the healthy diet. Learned to love kale, quinoa, beets and daikon radish. It’s gotten so much easier to do and I can’t imagine eating the old crap, even if it means I can’t eat out much. Everything becomes so clear and free. My body feels great, it’s tone returning and I’m sure I’ve lost 5 pounds or something as my clothes are getting baggy. We shall see how this all holds up abroad! I did find a few vegetarian and health food stores in Buenos Aires. My daughter was thrilled about eating kale, beets and lentils, but my son less so. We shall see! I'm also excited about homeschooling the kids. To really focus on teaching them and un-schooling them by just showing up somewhere outside the US. Obama's race to the top - what a mess. That is not learning. That is competition and more neurosis disguised as education. I will also be happy to be away from the culture, where America thinks murder is funny. "Sunny with a chance of Homicide," is some show, a picture of an orange stabbed and bleeding on the side of New York buses. Angelina Jolie in Salt is the image for gun culture gone girly and unconsciously joining the ranks of the death cult our society has been in for the past 200 years. I finished reading "Bachelor Girl, the secret history of single women in the 20th century," by Betsy Israel. Required reading for all women. How men and the media try persistently to destroy women's power through the ages, yet wome prevail. I understand my mother, the war they waged against her to be anything but a stenographer or wife. And now they still try to destroy us with gun toting media whores. Yet we ignore it an move forward despite it, remarkably. Durga protects us. I had a dream of a lion chasing some people. So we are fierce! I also thought that the black women who were the sales women at Macy's were in credibly strong, to stand around all day surrounded by images of white women and culture. They still have their pride, their peace inside despite all this infantile crap.
I haven’t watched much television in seven years. I did watch the 2006 Olympics and the 2008 presidential elections. I thought I'd protect my kids from TV, but then Hulu and You Tube came along. I am aware of some things that are on TV because of reading the world’s newspapers every morning online. But I’ve never seen a reality show, don’t know what’s popular on TV or who half of the blondes in wedding gowns on the magazines at the grocery check out lanes are. But I did watch a little TV at Francie’s house last night. On the Discovery Channel we caught the end of a show called Hoarders. I was fascinated that other people live in the shame that was my childhood. Buried alive in things. I contacted the network, as they are looking for participants for the new season. I told them my father’s story. His migraine headaches, my mother, the war. I told them he wants it cleaned out before he dies. We all want the house cleaned out. The final psychic journey of the body, the heart, mind and soul. Really leave the past behind. Because it’s still in the body, still in the tissue. Getting it all out is a miracle, a healing extraordinare. We shall see if the producers call.
All in all, it’s a new life. The seven difficult years are over. The first half of my life is over. It seems like a dream the past, or a bad nightmare. I survived. I persevered, by sheer will power alone. The demons have made me strong, courageous and powerful indeed. The journey continues and I’m not afraid. The Queen of Bohemia has done a good and thorough job of cleaning her own house. And she has told her story. Now onward for the next journey.
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