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Do you get into intimate conversations where you want to communicate something significant or personal and find yourself frustrated that your words seem inadequate to what you want to communicate? I don’t mean you lack vocabulary or that you can’t find the right words. […]
Today is my husband and my nineteenth marriage anniversary. (The above photo accompanied our wedding invitations. We both had more hair then.)
Last year we forgot all about celebrating until the day before. Daniel saved the occasion by arranging a seaplane trip to Noah’s restaurant on the northern beaches. […]
One of the hardest lessons I’ve had to learn is that my reality is real only for me. Assuming that others should agree with my world view, and perhaps even adopt it, has been the cause of suffering for me in the past.
When I started teaching yoga 30-plus years ago, I was gung-ho in my interpretation of the Iyengar method. I learned from a tough teacher and I tried to be one. […]
Shortly before I went away on a several week break recently, I had an argument with one of my housemates. You know how it is when you’re rushing around getting ready to go, stressed by packing, and completing those pesky chores. I was not at all in the space of anticipatory delight.
I won’t bore you with the details of the dust-up; let’s just say there was a display of anger, hurt feelings and cross words. My lower self was clearly on display. […]
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I’ve set myself the goal of learning what can be known, novice as I am, of Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra.
Certain of these terse aphorisms make sense to me, but others I find are too obtuse. Nevertheless, I keep at it. […]
I’ve been on the road (and away from my Patanjali studies) for a a week now. It’ll be another week before I settle back into my routine – i.e. early morning practice. I’ve done a little asana practice along the way, in the bedrooms and living rooms where we’ve stayed. Not quite the same, though, as my friendly green tin shed at home.
However, I’ve had the delightful experience of re-uniting with old yoga students from 25 years ago who now live in the Kalang Valley (Helen’s painting is below). […]
Northern hemisphere peoples eat your heart out. Here on the Eastern seaboard of New South Wales, it’s the height of summer; and my present location – Bellingen – is especially in full bloom.
The produce shops are overflowing with stone fruit, grapes, melons, berries and sweet corn.
Streets are arrayed with bowers of crepe myrtles, hydrangeas, frangipanis, bougainvillea, grevilea, hibiscus.
People are drawn to pack up a picnic blanket and a few provisions and head for a park after work; or take a swimming costume and beach towel, and set out for the sea. […]
I think I’m getting there finally, gradually – that is, being non-competive, in my yoga and in my teaching.
It’s taken a few knocks on my head along the way: years of dealing with osteoarthritis and a couple of rounds of major surgery. […]
I’m sorry to say that last year I made myself miserable as I participated in a weeklong printmaking in Bellingen.
Of course I didn’t realise I was making myself unhappy. I believed it was circumstantial – meaning i thought it was the fault of someone or something else that my work wasn’t as good as others’.
This year I’m enrolled in the same course, same teacher, same place, but I decided I needed an attitude change. […]
Australia as a country presents as laid-back, the home of a ‘no worries’ culture, and at no time more so than December-January.
It used to be the case that the whole place closed down from the time the kids got out of school (mid-Dec.) until they went back (early Feb.). […]
Am also encouraged by recent findings that the body may cease aging when one is past 91. The study (reported in a 2016 New Scientist) by Michael Rose (a professor of evolutionary biology), says that if you are lucky enough to live that long, you stop ageing. He notes that one’s health may not improve but it certainly does not get any worse. Whilst that advice is far not mainstream, population statistics do show that ageing seems to stop at 93 – and does not speed up again until we get a telegram from Queen Elizabeth (the Last) at 100.
Thus, if one makes it to 99, you are no more likely to die at any given point than someone of 93. (From 110 plus may be a different matter but I’ll let you know). …
In the absence of internet information, I decided to create my own holistic way of dealing with my upcoming surgery.
I started talking with my friends to share my journey. The simple fact that I was willing to be open and vulnerable helped eliminate any residual shame.
I started keeping a journal in which I could collect information on hysterectomies, and more importantly, write down questions and feelings as they arose. …