A Prayer

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God, Goddess, Spirit that be,
I pray this night watch over me.

Hold me in the arms of angels,
Safely from all harm and danger.

Bless all those I deeply love,
And tend their needs from up above.

Thanks to you for the gift of life,
Courage and patience to journey through strife.

My gratitude from deep within,
Please open my heart with your love, Amen.

*I wrote this prayer in 2007 and came across it in one of my old journals yesterday. It always surprises me when my writing has more profound, personal meaning, years later. The photo is a retablo of Our Lady of Guadalupe by New Mexico artist Lynn Garlick.

Vulnerability

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First, inspiration

A consuming fire

Relentless and tangled

 

Then, writing

A tentative rain

Of keyboard clicks

Slowly intensifying

 

Fire and rain argue

Until sparks turn to steam

And soften into grace

 

To find inspiration

And write from source

Feels easy, free and pure

 

Baring my soul

Not knowing

To whom I am opening

Showing petals and thorns

 

Is the artist’s way, I suppose

Until inspiration

Ignites again

Love for the Creative Process

I have a lot of love for the creative process and its mysterious ability to discover me. Lately, new projects, ideas and stories keep finding their way into my dreams. It’s simultaneously inspiring and overwhelming. Slowly but surely, I am honoring these gems with the time and attention they deserve.

These little collages are from one of the new art collections I’m working on: LOVE. Stay tuned, more artsy stuff is on its way!

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Love letter from the past

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I attended a winter yoga retreat in Lake Geneva with the fabulous Dorie Silverman a few weeks ago. During the retreat, we were guided to write a love letter to ourselves, self address an envelope, and hand it in to be mailed at a later, unknown date. I received my letter in the mail a few days ago. I won’t share all the details, after all it’s my personal love letter, but here is a line that I am drawing a lot of inspiration from: “Magic is created in the woodlands, but it can survive in the city if nurtured by the sun and water and your dreams.”

There’s something really special about receiving words of love and wisdom from your past self. If you’ve never tried it before, I highly recommend taking the time to write yourself a love letter. You don’t even have to send it, just set it aside and mark your calendar for a random day a few weeks or months from now. There is even a website, http://www.futureme.org, where you can send yourself an email at a set, later date.

Even if you have a regular journaling or reflection practice, it’s amazing how sometimes, turning inward and writing a letter of love to your future self can bring the encouragement and support you need, right when you need it most.

First Time for Everything

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In yoga teacher training, one of my wonderful teachers, Geri, talked about the joy and responsibility that being someone’s first yoga teacher brings. She said that if we share the practice confidently with new students by offering our enthusiasm and support, they may come back for more.

Yesterday, I taught a class at Yogaview in Chicago and had the privilege of leading someone through his very first yoga class. Honestly, I was scared. I was worried that he might not like the class and I didn’t want be responsible if his first yoga class was also his last.

So, I tried channel Geri’s wisdom and share my excitement and love of yoga. I want to remember this experience because I think it is important to teach every class with that same energy and dedication.

In case you are wondering, my new student did amazing and seemed to enjoy the class. I can only hope he will be back for more.

Edgar Degas

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I spent the morning visiting an old acquaintance

Saw his familiar expressions and heard his stories

Captured in the madness and mastery of brushstroke

 

Peeking behind the wings at the ballet

I saw nervous dancers feet beneath tulle skirts

Rehearsing with anticipation moments before the curtain

 

Listened to a café singer in Paris while

Sipping an espresso from a dimly lit corner

Her melodies floating over the smoky room with ease

 

Caught a glimpse of a woman bathing

In a symphony of limbs and abandonment

From an oval-shaped tub and the illusion of water

 

Yet, the mystery of art lies not with technique

But the reminder that when it encounters faith

Ghosts from the past become remarkably opaque