Twenty eight

Twenty eight years, twenty eight birthdays — 28 rings if I was a tree, a fishie, or the Yankees if they won this year.

Twenty eight years [successfully completed] of hurling myself through space. The lesson this year was trusting my body. It was trusting the timing of my life and knowing that the body holds the keys. When times seem urgent, slow down. I feel like myself is the most I can pray for. When I’m teaching yoga, I remember what’s important - the excess mental chatter slips away. I’ve never felt more relief than when I decided to believe that it’s all working out. That I can sit in discomfort without grasping for peace. It will come, then it will go again.

Most of an atom is bolstered by space. The very puzzle pieces that make up our limited bodies are spacious. I want to believe in more space, I want to believe that there is enough time, I want to believe that I am changing for the better. I do, I do, I do.

The window is open, we’re here for each other, we’re still changing for the better.

For this circle around the sun, I’m choosing to feel safe in my body. I’m choosing to listen to my body and fight for it. I’m drawing a line between pain and suffering. I’m letting myself grieve lost hope and make room for new. I’m choosing to stand up for others as much as I stand my own ground. I’m choosing to support all of you, because that’s all there is (come to class).

May I grow more compassionate, may the circles of love continue to widen, may my perspectives change for the better, may my chakras spin like a fidget spinner, may we all feel like ourselves.

May I hunt for seashells with Lea. May Ollie + Winnie continue to be the cutest joys of my life. May my family be healthy. May my friends get everything they want. May the earth heal. May I enjoy making art in the light. May I move to Red Hook. May I laugh so much. May I move my body with grace. May I do yoga with my friends. May you tell them you love them. May we be in joy. Amen.

Grace will not stop raining, hardship will not stop coming.

This year was the best one yet. Nothing was perfect and everything worked out. Nothing is perfect and everything will work out.

We’re alchemizing. Turning grief into something. Anger into action. Hate into rebirth - seriously, fire burns. Stick out the tongue to air out the heart. Lift the crown of the head - listening, available. Ask for help. Soften the body, soften the mind, stay in the middle.

Trust yourself. Believe yourself. Please, believe yourself.

All that’s on my Year 28 Pinterest board is Great Danes and a pottery studio. Praying my attic turns into an art studio. Praying I get the puppy. Can I have *that*, please? I promise to continue taking care and reducing carbon emissions

Onward —