Photo credit: flattop341 on flickr
Funny to reconsider that last post of mine, Trust the earth to hold you, in light of what happened the day after I posted it.
I wondered about myself when I wrote those lines: “if I should fall, should I ever fall, if I ever dared to fall,” thinking as I was about all the abstract ways one can fall. Picturing perhaps some ill-begotten fall from grace, or a slow slide into the clutches of a sorrow I could not tame.
No, it’s fair to say I was not thinking about a literal fall. Continue reading
The best thing I ever heard in a yoga class was this: Trust the earth to hold you. When lying in shavasana, or corpse pose, surely the easiest of all poses, flat on my back in a neutral position, the teacher would utter those words, and when she did I’d feel my bones settle ever so slightly. Only then would I realize I’d been holding myself in as if every molecule in my body needed to be drawn in tight to hold together. I’d see that I’d been resisting gravity, ignoring the fact that the body will hold itself together just fine without my help. And I noticed that when you let go of holding yourself together and sink your bones into your flesh and your flesh into the ground beneath you, you begin to float just a bit, and remarkable things happen.
We’ve been here long enough that our clothes are wearing out. We allowed ourselves one suitcase apiece, brought only our favorite clothes, and we packed for all four seasons. But summer ended about a week after we arrived, and the chilly autumn and moderate winter have led us all to return to the same long-sleeved shirts, jeans and socks again and again.
We don’t appear to be doing anything beyond sitting, standing, and walking, yet somehow the frequent wear has caused many articles to fall apart at the seams. Continue reading
There is nothing like attending a young person’s birthday party to make you feel like a kid again. My rowing friend invited me to her 26th birthday party, making her alarmingly close to 20 years younger than me, but somehow her friends did not seem put off by the grey threads in my hair and the three not-so-small children back at my apartment.
Germans! They are remarkably civil. They will talk to you even if they have to switch languages to do so. They will talk to you even though you are not hip and cool and you still use words like hip and cool. They want to know what you think about what’s going on in the world. They notice you exist; they want you to have a good time. They are polite. They are interested. And they like to drink. Continue reading