I choose to be a mother who works. I choose to be a worker who mothers. It makes me feel whole and deeply purposeful to offer my talents to others, to help other people feel good in their bodies and hearts and minds. The exorbitant cost of childcare that we are able to afford is worth that to me, but the difficulties and the “either/or” scenario that this world gives me and other women like me is not fair or ok. It should not be this difficult for a mother, for a woman, for anyone, to mother and WORK.. so that she can build the HOME she so wishes for her familyRead More
I lie down on a nearly-daily basis and feel my midline with my hands. The space around my belly button seems at times possibly wider and other times narrows to nearly nothing. I have followed its ebbs and flows quietly and with a deep sense of care; perhaps more care than I have ever offered myself in this life. And while I check the width routinely, the residue of this ritual leaves my mind resting not in the space between, but in the quality of attention itself. I am not what one would call a religious person, and I often tend toward the dependabilities of mathematics and science, but through this process I have encountered what feels to be the soft slipperiness of prayer.Read More
I am intrigued by what is revealed when we practice with real love. I am intrigued by those things that may at first seem limiting but in fact take us on a course to revealing wholeness. I am intrigued by gaps of all kinds, for it is often in "the spaces between" where we find the true treasures. Where once there was a gap, there is now understanding. And where once there was cluttered mind, there is now more gap. And so on.Read More
I am a wholly different being, I feel, when I step onto my mat. My belly is softer. My biceps are stronger perhaps from holding Miya, but everything else feels weaker. My skin is stretchier. I hold some more weight, and I try not to stress about it, which is hard for someone who spent her early 20s battling bulimia as a dancer and the rest of the time since reworking the notion of what it is to feel at home in her body.
But one thing is also for certain: my heart is way more open. My patience has crested to the surface of every moment and overflowed into my reality in a way that it never has before. I move slower. I pay more attention to many things that I do, like how quietly I can put away dishes while my daughter sleeps.Read More