A old friend just left a message for me. We haven’t spoken in a year or so, but I treasure her. At the end of her message she said, “What a charmed life you lead, Micah.” I thought about this for a little while. I agree my life is charmed, but why? Is that just some lucky people’s lot? Some people toil and fret while others flit about with joy and ease? I don’t think so. I mean I don’t think that’s the way it has to be,though at times it appears as though that’s the way it is. This doesn’t make sense to me. I think we are all capable of living a charmed life, but it depends on how we charm life. I mean charm as engaging and loving life, not …
Oh! (Buzuku) Olive Tree
Olive tree I see in thee a thousand histories
Knotted in your limbs, buried with your roots,
Waving with the tide which keeps time
With the moon.
A devoted laboring friend
Becomes a reflection in your mirror, digging, pruning, toiling, shaking
Until one day his body resembles the twists of your trunk
His eyes like braided holes, his muscles firm and defined.
How many faces do you record in your gnarled bark?
How many lovers have you outlived?
A son, a father, a grandfather beyond…
A daughter, a mother, a grandma so on…
You, the ultimate witness on your rocky banks,
Standing centuries as Romans and Turks
Christians and Muslims
Untangle their world views and broken hearts
By your blue-green sea.
Only to arrive where you’ve always been
Based in the forgiveness of rich soil,
Climbing slowly to the heavens with
Offers of peace in your …
The first practice we cultivated here in Montenegro was to ground our energy by listening- having travelled from far, some of us enduring long, arduous flight delays. How does listening to the sounds of a distant and foreign country help root our nervous system? Listening first draws our attention to the immediate, causing an acute awareness of presence and place, and a transformation of the listener as we slowly become and merge with the sounds we hear. First we hear the sea, then we breathe the sea, then the sea’s dynamic energy and our own energies merge. We begin to feel the comfort of home even when we’re thousands of miles from the familiar.
The sounds of the delta Ada Bojana in Montenegro are mesmerizing. There has been a constant soft …
Yipee!! Traveling to Croatia and Montenegro today! I’ve never been to Eastern Europe. Because I meditate no matter where I am, I always carry items to build a small altar. It’s amazing how a few packable sacred objects transform a space. You can stay in the dingiest hotel room and light a candle in the corner with a stick of incense and suddenly the divine enters! Not that it wasn’t there before, but now it’s clear and illuminated. The yoga group I’m traveling with doesn’t know this yet, but we’ll practice building beach altars the first day. Then we’ll collect items of beauty to place around the altar as long as we stay. The final day, we disassemble the altar, return the items to nature, and leave with gratitude. The …
This is just a ploy to see if my mom actually reads my blog. I have a sneaking suspicion she doesn’t. But she may do after I shame her publicly! Those of you loyal readers who do, make sure not to mention that her birthday wish is here.
All pretend shaming aside, how fortunate are Desi and I that our mother not only practices yoga with us, but teaches? We truly use what we’ve gleaned from our years of practicing as a family to stay as healthy as possible, being a family, and subject to the drama of family dynamics. There’s nothing I can’t express to my mom. There’s nothing she hasn’t supported with her entire being, no matter how crazy the dream. We are grateful to her for kindness, our …
MY EYES SO SOFT
Your loneliness so quickly.
Let it cut more
Let it ferment and season you
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can.
Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft,
My voice so
My need of God
I got a splinter deep in my heel a few days ago. It’s takes flexibility of the contortionist variety to remove a splinter from the center of the heel, but I had a memory of the children in Kenya, who get splinters daily because they live where the dreaded Acacia thorn rules the desert, as well as they don’t have shoes. I got splinters at least weekly and I have shoes so you can imagine the length of the thorn. The memory spurred a thought. Along with shoes, nomads also lack tweezers, needles, etc- all handy for splinter removal. What do they use? They use the Acacia thorns! Like cures like. It’s a homeopathic law. If you are nauseous, you take the most minute dose of Ipecac, and you …
Today is my sweetheart’s birthday. The groundskeeper here at our little rented casita forgets his name is Lee and keeps calling him Al, which makes us laugh as he isn’t at all an Al. We’ve just had lunch: fresh corn tortillas, sautéed jalapeño, red and yellow peppers, an amazing fish called Amber Jack, (which the groundskeeper caught for us) rice, avocado, lime and salt! Beautiful! The taste was deeply gratifying especially after the sort of hunger only playing in the sea and sun conjures. Last night we read the stars and marveled as more lights went out, more constellations appeared, reminding us of how eternal the universe is and how benevolent for allowing us to be here, co-creating, reveling in all there is, above and below. We’ve decided to practice being more …
Wow! What a profound transformation I’ve been able to witness in this week-long immersion into the tools that we’ve identified as most effective in shifting the physical, emotional, and even spiritual conditioning. This is, by far, our best offering because of the intensity, the expertise of the staff, and the method of the daily instruction. I’m extremely proud to be part of this immersion into self. When at the end of my life, if I have the gift of being conscious, I’ll feel good about co-facilitating Vital Living. I’ll feel good knowing that I taught from my practices and my heart, given the most refined instruction I am capable of to date. May will be our last immersion for a bit. If you are at all interested, talk to us …
Blossoms in Snow
We hang from the limbs like everyone’s prayers
fragile, wondering if we spoke too soon
if we emerged from our deep winter too happily pink.
We’re exposed, paper thin nakedness.
There’s no greater vulnerability
than a rosy smile in a blowing blizzard
And yet, we have no choice,
when that heavenly union of time, sun, and rain
meet us in the center of our divinity.
We are blossoms and we are here to: