The breath is a strange thing, but mostly a door. As a poet, I’m drawn to all the ways it has been used across time and across cultures to not only stand for life, but for god, for change, for being itself. But I am more and more fascinated not by breath as metaphor, but …
I dreamt I heard whispering. Close to my ear. As though the whisperer wanted the words to wake me, but didn’t want anyone else to hear. This happens to me. If I remember, I write it down and call it poetry. I pretend I ‘wrote it’ but really I only write it down. Many things …
Yoga isn’t much. It’s standing, bending, sitting. Yoga happens lying down. New to yoga, savasana is experienced as just that – you lay down. You don’t do anything. Teachers tell us that savasana is a pose, but it seems one devoid of application or concept. If anything we promise ourselves savanasa is coming as we …
Any spiritual path worth its salt is full of calls to silence. Be still, we’re told, and know. Listen to the still, small voice within. Of course we’re also told to keep our opinions to ourselves, and that children should be seen, not heard. I am a particularly stubborn mystic, and it seems to me …
