Motherless child

"Sometimes I feel like a motherless child." I can hear Nina Simone singing this in my mind. There's a aching so deep, so palpable, the heart just feels the weight of despair. It's a voice so forlorn, we're drawn to it, even though most of us listening aren't motherless children. But there's something we recognize as our own in the song. There's something that rings true for us in the words, in the melody, in the pained expressiveness. A month ago, a friend that I had known since I was a small girl was killed. She was murdered. She was one of the girls that everyone in school knew. She had two older siblings that to us younger kids seemed so cool and fascinating. Her parents were so central to our small town. Everyone knew them. In high school, my friend was the one everyone called to see what was going on. She lived on the lake, and my memories are inextricably linked to being on her dock, in her boat, hanging out with her crew in the lazy summer evenings at her home. My growing up is connected with her, her home, her family.

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Nyaya of Learning to Crawl

In the Yoga Tradition, the word nyaya refers to a teaching axiom, a teaching aphorism. There are many in the nondual Tantric tradition that  I study and practice. And they inspired me to speak to the process of learning to crawl. Liam, who is now 7 months old, is in the process of figuring out how to maneuver himself around his playmat and the room. He started by learning to roll. It was thrilling for him, and also for all of us (particular his daddy and myself) who have been cheerleading his learning process on.

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Yoga as a Householder Path

This is my first post as a mom.

Since I've written my last entry, everything's changed, and yet in other ways, nothing's changed: Life is a mystery, the practice is Love, and the path is meeting oneself in all the ways we not only express and reflect Life's joy and meaningfulness, but also how we inadvertently block it, are blind to it, or harden ourselves in reaction to it.

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