A few of the guests at Judy Chicago’s Dinner Party, on view at the Brooklyn Museum, in particular caught my attention when I visited last weekend.
It’s worth visiting if you have never seen this invocation to the many facets of the goddess–calling her by many of her many, many names, reminiscent of the yogis invocations to the 330 million god(desses).
It astonishes me how much time is spent complaining that it is hot. It is July, and I live south of the Mason-Dixon Line. Much of what gives rise to the complaints has to do with trying to dress in accordance with traditional office dress, being active according to some preconceived exercise routine, and wanting to eat heavy food from a diet based on habit rather than season.
Yes. It is hot, and being hot can be uncomfortable, especially if we try to fight it.
If we wear loose, light clothing, exercise less vigorously and only in the morning or after the heat of the day has waned, and eat lightly of the fruits of the season, then we can experience less discomfort. We also then can better open to the delights of the heat–stretchier muscles, a call to stillness, and chilled watermelon are a few things that make summer a joy for me.
Last week, a co-worker stopped by my office to chat. Not surprisingly, the conversation turned to current affairs, and I voiced my every day growing anger and grief and disgust and commitment to seek more ways to have positive impact. My co-worker essentially responded that as a yoga teacher, she thought I ought to know that I shouldn’t get so upset, things weren’t so bad.
As should not be surprising to those who know me or practice yoga with me or read what I post on social media that I explained that my yoga calls for lucid and engaged citizenship and not escape from challenges and difficult emotions. My co-worker demurred, still wanting her own comfortable silence.
The fateful weekend passed. When I returned to the office this week, I found a note and a cookie on my desk. The note basically said, wow, Charlottesville, I hope you’re feeling ok, I thought you might like a cookie. Without addressing the substance of the note, (my own conflict aversion coming to the fore or perhaps my sense that in this case there was little point in pursuing the conversation further and my co-worker has been a pleasant colleague ), when emailing about another matter, I said merely thank you for the cookie.
I’d thought that would be the end of it, but my co-worker then stopped by to thank me for saying thanks for the cookie, I no longer restrained myself from passionately though tolerably politely articulating what I really thought, including what a privilege it is to be able to have a bakery cookie whether for hunger or comfort.
I can relate to wanting everything to be ok, and I’m really glad I have plenty of food and a comfortable home, but I also believe that with my privilege comes great responsibility, now even more than ever. I seek to be more aware not less. What about you?
I received the following spam today: “????????? ??? ???? ???????, ???.” Not a bad one and certainly inoffensive. Although I deleted it, I copied the message first. For the past few days I’ve been thinking that sometimes the act of posing a question itself reveals an answer.
Dear Friends,
My apologies for being so long in sending a proper newsletter. 2014 was a challenging year for me. I started the year sick, ended the year sick, and was limited by injuries for several months out of the year. Work was intensely challenging on just about every level, day after day, week after week, and it continues to be so. And then there’s concern about the state of society and the planet and trying to figure out what I, honoring my capacity and limits, can do to do more good and less harm (I’ll never get this sent if I get side-tracked in that direction).
I also had some great adventures, including a major home renovation and an extraordinary trip to Cuba, but then was working too hard in between to appreciate and integrate fully my experiences (which is a yoga lesson in itself–addressing whether we need more stimulation when we haven’t had time to address/process previous experiences whether delights or challenges to mind, body, emotions, creativity).
Yes, I’m still teaching, even though working as much as I am these days. You can find me leading an all levels group practice with a wonderful group of people on Tuesday nights from 6:30pm -7:45pm at William Penn House in Capitol Hill. 100% of the proceeds (pay what you can; suggested donation $12-15) support the work camp program at William Penn House. There’s also a weekly group practice for more advanced students on Wednesday nights. Email if you are interested in the Wednesday night practice. More info on classes on my rose garden yoga website.
Yes, for those of you who don’t subscribe, I’m still blogging. With the help of wonderful web designer, friend, neighbor, and fellow yogi, Jess C, I just updated the look of the website. I hope to find time to blog about the many layers of meaning that went into the new design, which has the colors of Kali (goddess of sequencing); the murtis are Dakshinamurti (Siva as teacher) and Saraswati (goddess of learning, the arts, etc.); the books are a small, but important to me as yogini, portion of my library.
If you’re in town, join me for practice one of these weeks or perhaps we’ll run into each other another class or workshop. Please let me know how you are. Best way to be in regular touch are to subscribe to the blog. When there isn’t an interval between working and living and loving, and all the rest, to share more detailed written contemplations about living yoga,I’ll share the signs and exhortations I see around town and remind myself and anyone else who wants the reminder that no matter what is going on, there’s always a moment to appreciate a little beauty–perhaps to notice a heart-shaped cloud in the sky.
Feel free also to friend me or like “Rose Garden Yoga” on Facebook. Instagram possibly coming soon in my copious free time. Ha.
Peace, love, and light,
Elizabeth
