College professor and artist Michael Jones McKean made a machine that generates two-story rainbows with the flip of a switch. His rainbow machine is comprised of commercial jet pumps and custom-designed nozzles that spray a dense wall of water into the sky—it’s the same as how you can get a rainbow from the sprinkler in your backyard, just on a much more impressive scale.

Everyone forgets that Icarus also flew

 First, let me say, I am so sorry I've been the Queen of Lame with my lack of decent posts lately.  I've been busy busy with life and all it's multifaceted textures, surprises, colors, and more.


As a means of procrastination (lab report? nah...), I decided to read over some of my Dec. 2009 blog posts.  It's so interesting to get a peek into my mind/heart from a year ago.  So much has shifted in terms of my circumstances, but not so much in my heart.  And that's pretty cool.  It reinforces the fact that I am on a path that serves my authentic Self.

I am very much in one of my nostalgic moods...this happens once in a while, you know how it is.  Digging into old moleskines, flipping through photos, etc.

I can hardly believe how much has changed in one year.  ONE year!  12 months!  I predicted, on December 31, 2009 that this was going to be an awesome year.  It surely was.  It was simultaneously one of the most challenging, gratifying, and grounding times I've experienced.  I feel like I've evolved so much in such a short time, and continue to do so on a daily basis.


This past year has urged me to connect with and be grateful for a strength that I never knew was within me.

[I'll do a 2010 recap before the New Year!]

************

Visiting my brother in Peru in March :)

*************

I have so much to emote right now, but the words don't want to come out through a keyboard, so I'll take a pen to paper.


**************

I was thinking about that evening with Jack Gilbert last Spring and it made me want to read everything of his all over again.  So I did.  Here's one for you:



Horses At Midnight Without A Moon

by Jack Gilbert

Our heart wanders lost in the dark woods.
Our dream wrestles in the castle of doubt.
But there's music in us. Hope is pushed down
but the angel flies up again taking us with her.
The summer mornings begin inch by inch
while we sleep, and walk with us later
as long-legged beauty through
the dirty streets. It is no surprise
that danger and suffering surround us.
What astonishes is the singing.
We know the horses are there in the dark
meadow because we can smell them,
can hear them breathing.
Our spirit persists like a man struggling
through the frozen valley
who suddenly smells flowers
and realizes the snow is melting
out of sight on top of the mountain,
knows that spring has begun.

The last thing I do
is step out to the back yard
for a quick look at the Milky Way.


The stars are halogen-blue.
The constellations, whose names
I have long since forgotten,
look down anonymously,
and the whole galaxy
is cartwheeling in silence through the night.


Everything seems to be ok.

We washed the dishes in the gurgling creek.  The roaring bonfire kept the mosquitoes away.  A new moon peeked down through the pine boughs.  We rolled out our sleeping bags and went to bed early, bone weary.

Music Explosion

Genius

::sigh::....really.

Jason Fried has a radical theory of working: that the office isn't a good place to do it. At TEDxMidwest, he lays out the main problems (call them the M&Ms) and offers three suggestions to make work work.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I am thankful for YOU <3  Have a beautiful, beautiful holiday surrounded by nothin' but love, love, love



...back to cooking/baking!




xoxOM

The Ear is an Organ Made for Love
by E. Ethelbert Miller

(for Me-K)

It was the language that left us first.
The Great Migration of words. When people
spoke they punched each other in the mouth.
There was no vocabulary for love. Women
became masculine and could no longer give
birth to warmth or a simple caress with their
lips. Tongues were overweight from profanity
and the taste of nastiness. It settled over cities
like fog smothering everything in sight. My
ears begged for camouflage and the chance
to go to war. Everywhere was the decay of
how we sound. Someone said it reminded
them of the time Sonny Rollins disappeared.
People spread stories of how the air would
never be the same or forgive. It was the end
of civilization and nowhere could one hear
the first notes of A Love Supreme. It was as
if John Coltrane had never been born.

After we saw what there was to see

This. Is. Beautiful.


“Unmakeable”

Book printers said Jonathan Safran Foer’s “Unmakeable” Book “could not be made.” Belgian publishing house Die Keure proved them wrong. Jonathan Safran Foer’s book is an interactive paper-sculpture: Foer and his collaborators at Die Keure in Belgium took the pages of another book, Bruno Schulz’s The Street of Crocodiles, and literally carved a brand new story out of them using a die-cut technique.

You can see more pictures of the Tree of Codes on Visual Editions’s Flickr stream.  Pretty amazing.

***************


Heard this poem recited the other day and it warmed my heart and totally brought me back to experiences such as this one on NYC subway rides.  There is beauty and kindness everywhere...even in the grungiest, darkest, smelliest places...






New York Subway

by Hilda Morley

The beauty of people in the subway
that evening, Saturday, holding the door for whoever
was slower or
left behind
(even with
all that Saturday-night
excitement)
the high-school boys from Queens, boasting,
joking together
proudly in their expectations
 power, young frolicsome
bulls,
the three office-girls
each strangely beautiful, the Indian
with dark skin
the girl with her haircut
very short and fringed, like Joan
at the stake, the corners
of her mouth laughing
the black girl delicate
as a doe, dark-brown in pale-brown clothes
 the tall woman in a long caftan, the other day,
serene
serious
the Puerto Rican
holding the door for more than 3 minutes for
the feeble, crippled, hunched little man who
could not raise his head,
whose hand I held, to
help him into the subway-car—
so we were
joined in helping him & someone,
seeing us, gives up his seat,
learning
from us what we had learned from each other.

************

I don't play backgammon, but this pretty board is making me reconsider my resistance to learn the game...

Check out all the different variations of backgammon boards by Ara Peterson and his father Jack. (Warning: You might have a color seizure if you click on the link above)

*******************

An iPhone is something I do not have in my possession but I like the sounds of the new Fooducate App


Fooducate’s iPhone App lets shoppers make better, healthier choices at the supermarket. It empowers you with all the tips and tricks Fooducate’s been writing about on their blog. The nifty app let’s you scan the barcode of a food product and then tells you the good and the bad. And it suggests healthier alternatives.

******************

This is inspiring me to actually print out some of my photos.

This photo album by Debra Folz stands on its own corner due to a reinforced front and back cover, which gives it a magic sort of ‘objet d’art’ feel. Lovely.

*******************

Thanksgiving is in just a few days.  It's been quite a big year for me, in many ways, and while it's important to be thankful everyday for the joys in our lives (and even, at times, the challenges), this time of year reminds us to be more conscious about gratitude.  While the true history of Thanksgiving is not something that makes me particularly proud as an American, I do appreciate that the holiday has somewhat morphed into a day that calls upon us to actively reflect and give thanks for people, things, and situations in our lives.

This year I am especially grateful for and humbled by the guide within.  I'm thankful for the wisdom and light of my inner guide and the courage I have been granted to take action in my life and make decisions/moves that are beneficial to my higher good and, eventually, to the higher good of the Universe.

And of course, I am always thankful for my beautiful family (and the exciting new changes!) and the friends who have been by my side and in my heart through it all.  

What are you grateful for?

A Peacock in Spring
by Joyelle McSweeney

Makes derangéd love
To the muddy hill. Shoots of green knocked sideways
On a factory floor. Next to the stopflood
Retaining wall, sprung rhythm. Just as
A center for Islamic banking
Furls green writing like a blooming branch across the screen, visible
Pop-up ad of the market or
green fuse. In a wiry flash,
A living goddess with a threefoot eye
Bends o'er her spreadflat copybook, contemplating a career at maths.
I've always been good at maths,
And how they multiply, and how they multiply, and how they
Lock in a pop-fly, snag the interface, shatter the salary cap,
Thwack. Into the tanned glove, a second piece
Of hide. It's spring, tumors and mushroom caps pop-up, the avatar
Salary man can't muster himself to grope the
Pixilated schoolgirl. Sad subways.
Before the Senate panel, the discredited chairman holds
You gotta keep on dancing
Keep on dancing
Keep on dancing til the music stops. Amen, says the peacock,
Shifting his attentions now to the wall. He shrugs obscenely green,
Obscenely jewel-toned, obscenely neck-like,
An obscene grandeur and an obscene decadency,
A screen, a mask, a dance,
A thousand green-groping eyes. Lapse and bless
With your largesse, you antique
commode, you gossiping
fairground—
(And now a common bird launches itself at my window
A defunct grenade from Spring's blackmarket shouldermount
Because I do not know its name
And do not wish to watch it stagger from air to glass
I hear it re-enunciate
& grow increasingly garbled & go
On outside the
poem that would be increasingly
inside, let me in.
Where my sleek unbidden brow breaks blood upon the panel, breaks
beads amid the streaks of let me
in and let me in)

How cool is this?!

Check out this incredibly awesome NYT article on molecular animation...bringing the power of cinema to biology. 

Happy (belated) Birthday, Vonnegut

I was thinking of Kurt Vonnegut yesterday and meant to dedicate a bday post to him...buuuuuut, a day late will have to do.

I still remember the day he died and feeling a genuine sense of loss.  What a footprint he has left on the American literary canon.

Kurt Vonnegut once came up with a list of eight rules for writing a short story. Rule number one: "Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted." Other rules include "Start as close to the end as possible" and "Be a Sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of."


He said: "Every successful creative person creates with an audience of one in mind. That's the secret of artistic unity. ... If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia."


And he said, "Make characters want something right away — even if it's only a glass of water. Characters paralyzed by the meaninglessness of modern life still have to drink water from time to time. ... When you exclude plot, when you exclude anyone's wanting anything, you exclude the reader, which is a mean-spirited thing to do."


And he also said, "It's the writer's job to stage confrontations, so the characters will say surprising and revealing things, and educate and entertain us all."



Some Background info. (via Writer's Almanac):




His family had been well-off but lost all its money in the Great Depression, and his mom thought she'd make a new fortune by writing pulp fiction. She enrolled in evening short-story seminars. Vonnegut said, "She studied magazines the way gamblers study racing forms."

He said that as the youngest child he was always desperate to get some attention at the supper table and so he worked hard to be funny. He'd listen studiously to comedians on the radio, and how they made jokes, and then at family dinner time he'd try to imitate them. He later said, "That's what my books are, now that I'm a grownup — mosaics of jokes."

All his life he loved slapstick humor. In old age, he told an interviewer that one of the funniest things that can happen in a film is "to have somebody walk through what looks like a shallow little puddle, but which is actually six feet deep." Also, he said that one of the things he loves best is "when somebody in a movie would tell everybody off, and then make a grand exit into the coat closet. He had to come out again, of course, all tangled in coat hangers and scarves." When he was on the faculty at the Iowa Writers' Workshop, he told his students that they were there learning to play practical jokes. And he said, "All the great story lines are great practical jokes that people fall for over and over again."

His novel Cat's Cradle was based on his experiences as a public relations man for General Electric in Schenectady. One of the characters, a scientist named Dr. Felix Hoenikker, was based on an absentminded G.E. researcher named Dr. Irving Langmuir, whose personal quirks Vonnegut transcribed right into his book. Vonnegut said: "He wondered out loud one time whether, when turtles pulled in their heads, their spines buckled or contracted. I put that in the book. One time he left a tip under his plate after his wife served him breakfast at home. I put that in." Cat's Cradle, published in 1963, earned Kurt Vonnegut his master's thesis in anthropology from the University of Chicago; when he was a graduate student there years before, his original thesis had been rejected, and he'd dropped out of the program. The novel also earned a Hugo Book Award nomination and a cult following.

Kurt Vonnegut sat down to be interviewed by The Paris Review series four different times over the course of a decade. The interviews were pieced together to be published as one big long composite interview. But before it went to press, Vonnegut asked to edit the manuscript. He ended up rewriting not only some of his answers but the interviewers' questions as well, and so in the end they published an interview with Vonnegut in which he was both the interviewer and the interviewee. He's introduced like this: "... a veteran and a family man, large-boned, loose-jointed, at ease. He camps in an armchair in a shaggy tweed jacket, Cambridge gray flannels, a blue Brooks Brothers shirt, slouched down, his hands stuffed into his pockets."

We're told that "he shells the interview with explosive coughs and sneezes, windages of an autumn cold and a lifetime of heavy cigarette smoking. His voice is a resonant baritone, Midwestern, wry in its inflections. From time to time he issues the open, alert smile of a man who has seen and reserved within himself almost everything: depression, war, the possibility of violent death, the inanities of corporate public relations, six children, an irregular income, long-delayed recognition."

In the last of the four interviews, Vonnegut's self-edited description reads: "... he moves with the low-keyed amiability of an old family dog. In general, his appearance is tousled: the long curly hair, mustache, and sympathetic smile suggest a man at once amused and saddened by the world around him."

Health
by Rafael Campo

While jogging on the treadmill at the gym,
that exercise in getting nowhere fast,
I realized we need a health pandemic.
Obesity writ large no more, Alzheimer's
forgotten, we could live carefree again.
We'd chant the painted shaman's sweaty oaths,
We'd kiss the awful relics of the saints,
we'd sip the bitter tea from twisted roots,
we'd listen to our grandmothers' advice.
We'd understand the moonlight's whispering.
We'd exercise by making love outside,
and afterwards, while thinking only of
how much we'd lived in just one moment's time,
forgive ourselves for wanting something more:
to praise the memory of long-lost need,
or not to live forever in a world
made painless by our incurable joy.

Sir Ken Robinson’s TED Talk on How Schools Kill Creativity.

I light the fire under the pot

 ****************


What a sweet, simple poem:


The Emperor
by Matthew Rohrer

She sends me a text

she's coming home

the train emerges

from underground


I light the fire under

the pot, I pour her

a glass of wine

I fold a napkin under

a little fork


the wind blows the rain

into the windows

the emperor himself

is not this happy


**********

Been spending the past few days nursing my immune system back to health.  No more runny/stuffy nose!  No more fever!  No more headache!  Rwaaaaarrrrr!

**********

Off to interview Peter Garritano.  Pretty excited, should be interesting.  I'll post the article once it runs.

**********

I have much to share with you, but it'll have to wait until I have a a bigger period of free time (ha!).  Keywords: stories, workshop, oils, books, travel, and......more!


Happy Wednesday <3

I won't hesitate no more

Don't worry about a thing...

Lil' Cocoon

 

Don't you wish that you could curl up inside someone's sweatshirt and get all cozy when it's chilly out?  This is a photo of my 4 yr old niece and my dad.  Adorable little bundle of love.

Happy New Moon!

Happy New Moon, you beautiful people, you.



As most of you know, I have a little...eh...moon ritual.  On full moons I lay out a blank piece of paper to let it absorb the energy of the beaming moon.  Then, I fold it up and stick it in a special drawer.  On the new moon, I take it out and write down manifestations.  Sometimes they're general, sometimes they're really specific.  After finishing up the list, I fold it back up and stick it back in the drawer.  Been doing this for a few years now and I really dig it.  Give it a whirl, if you feel so inclined.  Feels pretty good to write down your manifestations.  Not only to see them in print, but to clarify them for yourself and for the Universe.

"Ayurveda is not of the east or the west, of ancient or modern time. It is one with all life, a knowledge that belongs to all living beings--not a system imposed upon them, but a resource to be drawn upon freely and to be adapted to the unique needs of the individual in his or her particular environment."

- Dr. David Frawley

from Canti
by Giacomo Leopardi
translated by Jonathan Galassi

XXXVII

ALCETA

Listen, Melisso: I want to tell you a dream
I had last night, which comes to mind,
seeing the moon again. I was standing
at the window that looks out on the meadow
staring up, when suddenly the moon
unhooked herself. And it seemed to me
that as she fell,
the nearer she got the bigger she looked, until
she hit the ground in the middle of the meadow,
big as a bucket, and vomited
a cloud of sparks that shrieked as loud
as when you dunk a live coal in the water
and drown it. So, as I said,
the moon died in the middle of the meadow,
little by little slowly darkening,
and the grass was smoking all around.
Then, looking up into the sky, I saw
something still there, a glimmer or a shadow,
or the niche that she'd been torn away from,
which made me cold with fear. And I'm still anxious.


MELISSO

You were right to be afraid, when the moon
fell so easily into your field.


ALCETA

Who knows? Don't we often see
stars fall in summer?


MELISSO

There are so many stars
that if one or another of them falls
it's no great loss, since there are thousands left.
But there's just this one moon up in the sky,
which no one saw fall ever—except in dreams.

Heart swirling with joy and love

Heard from him both in the whimsical spirit world and the tangible one!  Couldn't be happier for this soul I am fortunate enough to refer to as Brother.  Souls linked forever, I feel his healing.

Looks like many trips to Peru planned for the future for this girl.




"Papa Burgundy": You ARE love







<3

Enough
by Jeffrey Harrison

It's a gift, this cloudless November morning
warm enough for you to walk without a jacket
along your favorite path. The rhythmic shushing
of your feet through fallen leaves should be
enough to quiet the mind, so it surprises you
when you catch yourself telling off your boss
for a decade of accumulated injustices,
all the things you've never said circling inside you.

It's the rising wind that pulls you out of it,
and you look up to see a cloud of leaves
swirling in sunlight, flickering against the blue
and rising above the treetops, as if the whole day
were sighing, Let it go, let it go,
for this moment at least, let it all go.

How to stay balanced during the beautiful yet harsh VT winter season

Sunday, Nov 7th in Bristol, VT....come join Christine Hoar at her beautiful studio in Bristol and gain an Ayurvedic perspective on how to stay balanced during the Vata-aggravating season of winter.  Christine rocks, Ayurveda rocks, the studio rocks....come join if you're in VT!

For more info., click here

Letter came in this morning all the way from Amsterdam....homemade envelope and all.  Smile on my face, warmth in my heart.  Snail mail is the way to go...it has a way of capturing the sender's true essence in a way that email never will.






<3



And now to share a quote that my friend included at the end of his beautiful letter:


"Once I thought that to be human was the highest aim a man could have, but I see now it was meant to destroy me.  Today I am proud to say that I am inhuman, that I belong not to men and governments, that I have nothing to do with creeds and principles.  I have nothing to do with the creaking machinery of humanity.  I belong to the earth!"

--Miller, '34

Sometimes you just have to raise your arms, open your heart, give thanks for everything...even the clouds.




Certain yoga poses have been evoking strong waves of emotion lately during class.  Just watching them pass and not spending too much brain power on trying to rationalize them.


Ok, must finish up my muscle tissue homework before class!



Look into your heart and you'll find

love

          love

                    love

Woke up to snow this morning








Joy

At the Edge of the Ocean

...The bits of beauty I see whilst waiting for a friend at a bookstore...

Smiles

Tending to vines in the warmth of the Italian sun...

Chatting by the Italian sea...

...these things float into my mind and I cannot help but smile.



Many things going on today are making me smile, too.  Thank you, thank you!

Out of Breath Jogger from 1992

...made me giggle

Theme in Yellow
by Carl Sandburg

I spot the hills
With yellow balls in autumn.
I light the prairie cornfields
Orange and tawny gold clusters
And I am called pumpkins.
On the last of October
When dusk is fallen
Children join hands
And circle round me
Singing ghost songs
And love to the harvest moon;
I am a jack-o'-lantern
With terrible teeth
And the children know
I am fooling.

Even rock n' roll now

A bit of a weird day.  The kind of day that made me play this song:






But a weird day every now and then is ok, right? Right.

Cold, rainy, LW moved back to Aspen, I recently discovered I am allergic to peanuts (gasp!  I know...don't even want to talk about it), someone pointed out my insecurities to me this morning and I got mad and now I feel bad, I don't want to go to work...but I have to...right now!


It's all good, though.  Tomorrow I have time to cuddle up at my fave cafe and write this week's article, do my A/P homework and write a real blog post!  Yippee!

(((((BEAR HUG)))))

This must be the place...and it's a good place







Promise to write a real post soon..  Have been functioning on a few hours of sleep nearly every night.  Sunday should be a calm day, so I shall write then!  Love love love

Oh Happy Day!

This cheery print from  Keep Calm Gallery is enough to brighten any room

Paris vs New York...two cities close to my heart

Paris versus New York is a friendly visual match between those two cities, as seen by a Parisian-based-and-lover on New York : details, cliches and contradictions. Absolutely fantastic...why do plane tickets have to be so expensive?

Autumn Evening
by David Lehman

(after Holderlin)

The yellow pears hang in the lake.
Life sinks, grace reigns, sins ripen, and
in the north dies an almond tree.

A genius took me by the hand and said
come with me though the time has not yet come.

Therefore, when the gods get lonely,
a hero will emerge from the bushes
of a summer evening
bearing the first green figs of the season.

For the glory of the gods has lain asleep
too long in the dark
in darkness too long
too long in the dark.

Ants
by Ravi Shankar

One is never alone. Saltwater taffy colored
beach blanket spread on a dirt outcropping
pocked with movement. Pell-mell tunneling,

black specks the specter of beard hairs swarm,
disappear, emerge, twitch, reverse course
to forage along my shin, painting pathways

with invisible pheromones that others take
up in ceaseless streams. Ordered disarray,
wingless expansionists form a colony mind,

no sense of self outside the nest, expending
summer to prepare for winter, droning on
through midday heat. I watch, repose, alone.

The light always prevails

Found while flipping through a Mary Oliver book...

I'm reading "Lolita" (Nabokov) right now and will probably be sharing many excerpts along the way.  For tonight, this:

"There are two kinds of visual memory: one when you skillfully recreate an image in the laboratory of your mind, with your eyes open ... and one when you instantly evoke, with shut eyes, on the dark innerside of your eyelids, the objective, absolutely optical replica of a beloved face, a little ghost in natural colors."





***


The full moon last night (or at least I am chalking it up to the full moon)  stirred up a lot of memories and ghosts from my past.  It was actually really interesting to watch each one float by and note the emotional reaction (or lack thereof) that each triggered.  For the first time in a while, and maybe ever, some things that had once truly perturbed me were released with little to no effort.  It was really refreshing and I continue to be so grateful for where I am right now.

***

We went over part I of the Ramayana today.  So awesome.









aapadaam apahartaaram daataaram sarvasaMpadaam.h .
lokaabhiraamam shriiraamam bhuuyo bhuuyo namaamyaham.h ..





***

Just a lazy Sunday night...my fave kind of Sunday night.  Going to snuggle up and continue reading.  Love to you all!

October
by Robert Frost

O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
To-morrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
To-morrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow,
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know;
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away;
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes' sake, if they were all,
Whose leaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost—
For the grapes' sake along the wall






<3

Sunny colors on a rainy day

Photo by Matthias Heiderich over at the Behance Network.

Improv Everywhere rocks

Check out this Improv Everywhere Mission called Black Tie Beach. Talk about being overdressed for a venue! Several hundred agents spent a day at Coney Island / Brighton Beach wearing black tie attire. They covered a mile-long stretch of beach with a diverse group of people of all ages (from babies to sixty-somethings) laying out, playing games, and swimming in the ocean, all in formal wear. Agents were instructed to find cheap tuxedos and ball gowns at thrift stores for the occasion. Watch the video below.

Kinetic Typography

Love this...Stephen Fry on....language

Perfection?

This song came on during dinner last night and I broke out in tears.  I cannot NOT weep to this song.  It is perfect.  Swan Lake is the perfect ballet, in my opinion.  The story is so f*cking beautiful, the music is breath-taking...just...ahhhhh

A sunny heart, a sunny mind

Besides the Autumn poets sing (131)
by Emily Dickinson

Besides the Autumn poets sing,
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze -

A few incisive mornings -
A few Ascetic eves -
Gone - Mr Bryant's "Golden Rod" -
And Mr Thomson's "sheaves."

Still, is the bustle in the brook -
Sealed are the spicy valves -
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The eyes of many Elves -

Perhaps a squirrel may remain -
My sentiments to share -
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind -
Thy windy will to bear!

Life Goal #18,469

Learn to dance like these guys.  And then do so spontaneously on street corners.

Words from the Wise

The art of medicine consists of amusing the patient while nature cures the disease. - Voltaire


Health and good humor are to the human body like sunshine to vegetation. - Massillon


The doctor of the future will give no medication, but will interest his patients in the care of the human frame, diet and in the cause and prevention of disease.- Thomas A Edison

Loka Samasta Sukhino Bhavantu

Dance with Me

This lovely carved wooden piece was done by Kathy Stockman, a local VT sculpture whom I had the pleasure of meeting/interviewing on Saturday.  This was the model for the "real" version, which is about twice the size and carved in alabaster.  I am so attracted to the movement and flow she managed to evoke in such dense materials.  Beautiful.


Kathy and her husband have recently renovated an old dairy barn on their property to accommodate 12 local artists.

Liking this sound




[Thanks for sharing, KB!]

True to Myself

*****************







*******************

*******************


Just signed up for this weekend.  <3











The rain is washing away a plethora of unnecessary things.  Thanks Mother Nature!

Calling fellow Vermonters---> your new fave restaurant just opened

Church & Main is now open!  Come to Burlington for an incredible dining experience.  Started by 28 yr. old Ned Church (a dear friend of my brother's), this place is amazing.

And another bonus:  I work there!  So come in for dinner and get some extra lovin' from yours truly.

Redefining Relationships

...so can you.

*******************


Many trusted sources have suggested that 2010 is the year of redefining relationships.  I see it all around me, in the lives of others and definitely in my own life as well.  Have you noticed this in your life?

Speaking for myself, 2010 has been a year of really paying attention to who I spend time with (people with open hearts and positive vibes, please!), embracing/honoring familial relationships, and the biggest of all:  redefining, appreciating, and enhancing my relationship with...myself.  Very big year for me, much emotional maturation, much learned...grateful for it all. <3

*****************


Speaking of hearts...the physical heart:





***************

need? Quirky memo pad in the shape of a cloud. Comes with 168 easy tear sheets, in a variety of colored and patterned papers.


****************


Chloe kisses and apple picking make me happy!


****************


Articles to write, skeletal anatomy to study, and yoga class to do!  Much love to you all and have a wonderful Tuesday.


P.S. Will be on the new version of The Ayurvedic Center of Vermont's website in a month!  We did the photo shoot yesterday morning.  So fun, such awesome people.  Will share once it's up and running.

On the Street...Avenue du Président Wilson, Paris

The Sartorialist features a dude on the street I lived on while I was in Paris. Aw, memories.

If you were to get a literary tattoo, what would you get?

I ask because NPR's "On Point" with Tom Ashbrook (heart him) discussed this trend.  Kundera on the tummy?  Tempting......tempting.

Tattoos were once for sailors and wayfarers — exotic souvenirs of adventure and romance. Now, they’re mainstream. Walk into any college gym – any gym, anywhere – and you know.

But literary tattoos – now there’s the high frontier. And even it is becoming wildly populated. Rimbaud on the forearm. Kafka on the whole arm. Sylvia Plath across the chest. Kundera on the abdomen. A big back covered in Proust. Oh my.

We take the full tour today of the world of literary tattoos to see what’s there, and why.

-Tom Ashbrook

Listen to the program



***************

And while I'm thinking of Kundera (just started Immortality), here are some parts I underlined in The Unbearable Lightness of Being:


"The brain appears to possess a special area which we might call poetic memory and which records everything that charms or touches us, that makes our lives beautiful." p. 208

"We all need someone to look at us. We can be divided into four categories according to the kind of look we wish to live under.

The first category longs for the look of an infinite number of anonymous eyes, in other words, for the look of the public...The second category is made up of people who have a vital need to be looked at by many known eyes...Then there is the third category, the category of who need to be constantly before the eyes of the person they love...And finally there is the fourth category, the rarest, the category of people who live in the imaginary eyes of those who are not present." pp. 269-270


"For there is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs as heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes." p. 31


"We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come." p. 8


"And at some point, he realized to his great surprise that he was not particularly unhappy. Sabina's physical presence was much less important than he had suspected. What was important was the golden footprint, the magic footprint she had left on his life and no one could ever remove." p. 120

"On the surface, an intelligible lie; underneath, the unintelligible truth." p 63

"What is unique about the 'I' it hides itself exactly in what is unimaginable about a person. All we are able to imagine is what makes everyone like everyone else, what people have in common. The individual 'I' is what differs from the common stock, that is, what cannot be guessed at or calculated, what must be unveiled, uncovered, conquered." p. 199

"Tomas did not realize at the time that metaphors are dangerous. Metaphors are not to be trifled with. A single metaphor can give birth to love." p. 11

Ringing like a bell, as if I had a choice

Some people are so much sunshine to the square inch.

-Walt Whitman

[Thank you, thank you, thank you for being you.  Love.]

 

I wrote you this, I hope you got it safe

Officially Published

The Shelburne News may be one of the smallest newspapers...ever...but I have an article in there this week!  Moving onto two magazine articles this week and continuing with the papers in the area.  I like this gig.  Fun side job.

***********

Another busy day awaits, my friends.

***********

It was a new moon last night, did you write out your manifestations?

***********

Words that came to me in sleep:

Human resilience is that shiny piece at the bottom of a flowing river; that mountain you see in the distance and wonder if it can be conquered

***********

Ok, must get ready for everything.  Have a great Friday and make sure you give/get at least one hug today.

A hush swept over the land as the rain stopped and leaves bursting with color surrendered to the earth

Back from California and while I had such a fun time, I'm happy to be in the magical land of VT in Autumn.  There really is nothing like it.  The smells warm me from the inside out and I am reminded of so many simple things that bring me joy... raking leaves, making apple desserts, carving pumpkins, homemade chai tea, cozy books by the fire, etc.

Sorry for the lack of real posts lately, my friends, but life has been busy busy busy!  These jobs, plus class, plus life is keeping me going at a constant/fast/good pace.  I have so many reflections to share from CA and exciting news about the present and future.

************

L.W. moves in with me tomorrow.  Very much looking forward to some quality time with my dear El Dubs.

************

The day started out weird, but with a little meditation and an unexpected letter from overseas, love overcame...as always.  What a beautiful day it turned out to be.

*************

I am actually about to run out the door (!) but wanted to share a couple cool Ayurveda-related tid bits...



"Ayurveda is based upon a deep communion with the spirit of life itself and a profound understanding of the movement of the life-force and its different manifestations within our entire psycho-physical system. As such, it presents a helpful alternative to the technical and mechanical model of modern medicine, the limitations of which are gradually becoming evident through time. It is a truly holistic medicine whose wealth we have just begun to explore in the Western world."

-Dr. David Frawley


And a brief article by the director/founder of the California College of Ayurveda, Mark Halpern:

Ayurveda for the 21st Century


Ayurveda, which literally means "The Science of Life," is the healing science from India. It has been practiced for over 5,000 years by millions of individuals to assist the body in journeying back to optimal health. More and more people are discovering that these ancient principles are easily applicable to modern life and that they have the power to create health and contentment. Health comes when we live in harmony with our true nature as spirit. Ayurveda allows us to get a glimpse of our individual true nature and to find the best ways to live a life of balance. It provides holistic understanding and healing to people on all levels: physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Ayurveda uses a multitude of healing modalities including herbs, diet, colors, aromas, sound, lifestyle recommendations, pancha karmai, meditation, and yoga.


I continue to dig deeper and deeper into the science and am loving it more every day.  I met with a couple local practitioners yesterday (Scott and Allison of The Ayurvedic Center of Vermont) and got some really helpful insight into the school in New Mexico.  A visit to both schools to come in February.

***************

Ok, must get going but once I get the chance to snuggle into some pajamas in front of the fire with my laptop, a real post will be comin' your way






Namaste