Clichés and Azores Opening

Clichés and Azores Opening

I often give the advice "do it differently, try another avenue." So this fall, I'm going to take a stab at listening to my own advice (because usually what we tell other people is really what we need to hear ourselves, right?). I'm not going to teach any classes for the time being. I'm actively looking for a space to house Blue Light but until the right space manifests, I'm sitting still for awhile. Awhile may be a week, a month...maybe longer.

Another tidbit I often share is "look for the clichés in life" as they are often hastily disregarded. Well, I'm currently living one of these clichés and I'm trying hard to embrace rather than disregard this pivotal transition. I'm the mom whose babies are now in school all day, everyday, and suddenly, I have, for the first time in 8 years (Insert: I know it sounds so cliché...it's killing me too!) time to myself. 

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The Light

The Light

we are all called back into the light,
readily cracking out from our hard-spun cocoons
like seeds dormant in their shells,
the light transforms us from arrested to aspiring energy
hungry to expand into the newly charged ever tender rays
and open completely to the sweeping, absolving rains
acutely aware again
of our potential

There really is nothing more beautiful than spring in New England. It’s so green and gentle and full of promise. And it’s such a nice time to practice yoga.

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Red Books, Simmering and the Azores!

Red Books, Simmering and the Azores!

Although it was unintentional on my part, it occurred to me this morning that the last time I wrote to you we had just set our clocks back an hour for daylight savings, and here we are, springing forward again. I’m partial to springing forward over falling back. It’s always around this time that I reach for my Red Book. For those of you who don’t know about my trusty Red Book, it’s my personal guide to how to live better. I write down what I learn as I go, things like “Christmas shop early," “Buy travel insurance,” “Leave a day between coming home from vacation and going back to work,” “Turn the lights down when you’re hosting a party,” or today, I wrote “Break up routine with peace-ing out to places where less clothes are necessary and adventures are a guarantee, and if that’s not possible, put plans in place for when it is.” I often forget my own advice but nonetheless I keep trying to help my future self.

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Late Fall/Early Winter at Blue Light Yoga

Late Fall/Early Winter at Blue Light Yoga

And it’s November. Daylight savings has ended. We have arrived at shorter colder days. I think the key to getting through New England winters is twofold: 1) get outside and 2) do yoga. After a long cross country ski or hike in the woods, or to fight off those shoveling aches or winter blues, join me at BLUE LIGHT where you can practice overlooking the Ipswich River in front of a wood burning stove.

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Blue Light and Amy are Giving S'more

Blue Light and Amy are Giving S'more

On Friday, an unseasonably warm day, my family and I drove to Appleton, a beautiful working farm patched together by rolling stone walls and rooted, through all-knowing trees, to a time without cell phones, to celebrate our friend Amy. As we moved along the winding dirt road, following arrows to the "Celebration of Amy’s Life" written in chalk on slate, we were overwhelmed (but not surprised) by the stream of cars ahead of us, behind us. Car after car parked in the field, person after person opened their doors, and joined the steady seamless flow to our seats under the enormous white tent looming in front of us. Embrace. Again. And again. Each face sparked a connection to Amy and our mutual loss. Each embrace another notch in healing. The sun so bright. The air so warm. The sky so blue.

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"We all Got. We All Need."

"We all Got. We All Need."

Well, a lot has happened since I last wrote before Mother’s Day…

My cousin passed away earlier this month. His death was sudden and (continues to be) heart wrenching. Only weeks into life without my cousin, I am acutely aware of the finality of death and the labor of grieving. I have a new understanding of what it means for your heart to ache and your breath to be taken away and the all-encompassing effects of grieving. And all the while, another week goes by, another month begins, and the simple unbelievable undeniable truth is driven home: life goes on. The truth stings as much as it holds us in place.

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Mother's Day Weekend

Mother's Day Weekend

Growing up, my mother pooh-poohed mother’s day as a hallmark holiday. My husband, however, ignored my inherited skepticism and has created a Mother’s Day tradition that I have come to cherish: every first Sunday in May since the birth of our son, my husband has whisked our family away to a quiet weekend on the Vineyard with a backpack full of hallmark cards (all of which, I must admit, I love to receive…I even get one from our dog Gritty Girl!). After reading my cards, we indulge in blueberry pancakes at The Black Dog overlooking the Vineyard Haven harbor.

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