In the health food store across the street from my friend Suzanne’s yoga studio in Saratoga Springs.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
I have been cleaning out old files. Mostly I keep my drawers and closets relatively free of clutter and the unnecessary, but there are occasional pockets that have lived on because they were not a priority and neat enough. Found among postcards and letters from friends was one I received from a friend of a friend in October 2001. I never got to know her well. My friend has since moved out of the neighborhood and his friend moved back to Germany several years ago to start a family. Here is what she sent:
a picture from India [not shown] and a saying for you —
Live with intention
Walk to the edge
Listen hard
Practice wellness
Play with abandon
Laugh.
Choose with no regret
Continue to learn
Appreciate your friends
Do what you love
Live as if this is all there is.
A super sweet message. Now that I have shared it, I will recycle the original piece of paper. Thank you Uta. I hope all is well.
For whatever may come, it is best to have a variety of resources–inner and outer.
The other day, when I was in NY visiting, I told my mother about the blog entry on Robert’s dendrobium. (Being physically present and discussing the blog entries is the low-tech way of getting comments). She pointed to the philodendron and some cuttings she was rooting from it and said, “that philodendron was your grandmother Rose’s; it must be 70 years old.” It might not be 70 years old, but it is at least 40 or 50, as my grandmother left her body in 1977, and I remember her having houseplants. It is possible, even, that the plant originally came from a cutting from my other grandmother, as that was how we obtained and grew most of the family houseplants.
My mother offered the plant for me to take home. I declined, but thought about taking a cutting. By the next morning, I had forgotten, but I will take a cutting one day. I did not need the cutting to enjoy thinking about bringing home a bit of life that had been living in my grandmother’s apartment and remembering both my grandmother and a space that I had loved. That was delightful enough.
(ps — one of the many reasons for the name “rose garden yoga” is in honor of my grandmothers — for my grandmother Rose’s name and for the love of gardening I learned from my grandmother Ann).
