We dressed in our finest
And took our seats
Watched the violin get tuned
As our boys and others marveled
At the fish leaping from water.
We chatted and watched
As family and friends clasped
Each other in hugs and handshakes
Until the first note was drawn
Bow resonating string
And the procession began.
Wedding party formed an arc
Bride and groom met at center
Moments filled with vow and promise
New traditions danced with old
Transporting us to our own first moments
Our own first steps on the path
To the center of all of this.
Their words and deeds
Mingled with our own history
And the history of all those gathered
Their kiss sealed their union
And resonated like the first note of song
Like a fish back to water
To awaken the memory of promise
In all of us.
Renewed, we celebrate this love.


I create layers of me
After images
And altered images
An inspection of
Who I wish to be
Who I think I am
A moment of doing
I wish I could will
Into or out of existence
And they shift-
A gauzy stuttering
Of selves.
Have you ever felt this way?
Stop and
One right breath can
Blow them into alignment
Register the centers
Center mind and heart
A moment of being
Quiet, still
In this moment
For this moment
Layers fuse-
A unity dancing
As one.


Go to where the flowers are
Walk there and plant yourself
For a while
Sit with them
Breathe in their scent
Let them breathe in your fragrance
And a conversation has begun.
A coyote howls across the lake
Sending messages for miles
A squirrel leaps from tree to tree
Traversing pathways in the sky
Worms, millions of them underfoot
Keep earth from turning to stone.
And I am humbled by each in turn
As I sit and breathe this in.
This is what humbles me.

When you like a flower, you pluck it. When you love a flower, you water it daily. Those who understand this, understand life. -Buddha


Sometimes you encounter
A complicated face
On the verge
Of both laughing, crying
The smile crinkles
The eyes that betray
Compassion and worry
Because every time you flip it
There is always the other side
I just saw a famous photo
Of an almost anonymous 9 year old girl, smoking
Finger nails pointed, eyes lined only
With makeup, painted on history
Defiant strength and terror, both
Shining through her eyes
I just saw a photo of a famous poet
Hair streaked grey, brow creased with experience
Lined face smiling, a generous smile
The world’s generosities and vulnerabilities, both
In the worry of her eyes.
Almost laughing, almost crying
We know how each story ends
It’s right there on the internet
We root for the defiant little girl
And the poet worries still.


Let’s practice being brave
You and I, you and me
We’ll take a small step
In the direction we know least
And I bet it leads to
A little wormhole that
Twists time inside out a little
Just a little
And pop- that silver whisker’s twinkle
Moves to your eye
And the laugh crinkles that are always there
Beckon us to take another step
With a little rock in our step
So we dance into it
And courage = movement
And bravery = fluidity
One step leads to the next
And together we flow.

Note to Self

Why do I like yoga?
Because it’s like saying
I can
I will
Even if it’s just on this
Little rectangle of earth
For 15 or 30 or 60 minutes
In the middle of a laundry list day.
It’s showing up
For yourself
And connecting
With all the vastness outside
And all the vastness inside
Considering your stance and breath
Making tiny adjustments that feel enormous
Because you know yourself well enough
At least on the mat in that moment
And feeling yourself building
Competence and also surrender-
And the freedom which that yields
From minute to minute
And day to day.
Why am I writing this?
A little note to self
To not forget
To show up each day
To be gentle but steadfast
To be intentional
To reconnect
To practice and feel progression
And embody both
Power and transcendence,
Alternating between the
Weightlessness of floating in water
And the solidity of roots and rock.
Why do I like yoga?
Because I am saying
I can.
I will.


Draw a line in the sand
And take a leap over
Some boundaries break
Look back at all the words crossed out
It makes a pattern, a voice
Of negative space, beautiful
What’s not been done
What’s not been written
A beautiful vessel of air and breath held
Holding what is.
So let’s make our resolutions
But know it’s ok to break them
When in the moment and
The right decision is not made in absentia
After all.