a single starfish there did lie
all alone it caught my eye
washed up shallow and then to sand
trapped alone; caught on land
I looked around; alone I stood
like the starfish – brotherhood
enjoy the moment, brother mine
before our light fails to shine
a single pair there did lie
all alone under blue blue sky
~for Ruby~
(Note: TSY is excited to share this moment of self-reflection from new contributor Marie. )
These 3AM travels provoke a certain kind of wanderlust that’s only found in a few of us. It’s all about embracing the journey and engulfing every single moment that you have, with the people you love most, or by yourself.
I’ve spent quite a lot of time traveling by myself. The solitude is a sanctuary for self-discovery and understanding. There is not much that is more significant than learning about yourself and the way you work, so you can improve and develop in both interactions and understanding.
Embrace the suck. It’s all chingon, hermanos.
-Marie
Note: We’re celebrating our contributors with a double dose of fun today! If you’ve ever traveled with young ones in the car, you might think they’ve been coached by Jules, a young writer who knows just what (not) to do on a road trip with your family.
During a road trip:
Ask “How much longer?” right as the car starts. Repeat question every five minutes the entire trip or until threatened by parent. When your sibling says they’re hot, instantly state that you’re cold. Continually poke said sibling, and when they smack you, cry. Whine that you’re starving, and when your parents stop and get you food, take exactly one bite and proceed to drop the rest in the car. Remember to stash the trash in every available cup holder. Immediately afterwards, announce that you don’t feel good. Promptly roll the windows down on the highway. When the car is on a deserted road in the middle of nowhere, suddenly have to use the bathroom.
At night:
Have boundless energy. Bounce around, talk loudly, and kick the back of your mom’s seat. While your dad pumps gas, don’t forget to try your very best to slide open the minivan door. Make sure to point and shout every time you see a plane. When you arrive to your destination, become suspiciously tired and have to be carried inside.
On the way back from the beach:
Be sure to track sand into the car. Once inside, shake your wet hair like a dog, splattering the windows. Then, start off the trip back by crying about your sunburn while stubbornly ignoring the fact that your mother told you wear sunscreen. Make sure the fish you smuggled in is still in its bucket of water. When the car turns, spill the water out of the bucket. Cry about the death of the fish. When you reach your house, notice that you left your towel at the beach.
On the way to an important event:
Slowly crawl into the car because you want everyone to be late for no reason whatsoever. Once inside, violently squirm in your seat because you are uncomfortable in your fancy clothing, resulting in you spilling juice on your sister’s white lace dress. After being yelled at by parents, sit quietly the rest of the way. Then, right as the car is pulling up to your destination, realize you aren’t wearing shoes.
-Jules
Note: This is our first contributor post, and it’s a great one! CK is taking us through a hike to some cool pools and ancient carvings in Mexico.
Walking into opening
dense jungle walls
ancient river carving
and smoothing blocks of cubic stone
Petroglyphs from years forgotten stand as altars
to those who have felt the words and memories.
-CK
Some people see big flakes and get their skis ready, while others put another log on the fire. Which camp are you in?
“You can’t get too much winter in the winter.” -Robert Frost
“I say to myself that I shall try to make my life like an open fireplace, so that people may be warmed and cheered by it, and so go out themselves to warm and cheer.” – George Matthew Adams
I fell attempting a new pose this week. I actually didn’t just fall, I fell on my face. In a crowded gym. In front of people I was convinced were paying attention.
I have always struggled with struggling. I want to be good at whatever I attempt, immediately. It doesn’t matter if it’s something I’ve never tried before, I just expect myself to be good at it. Sometimes when I’m not, it’s really tough not to just write it off as I can’t do such-and-such and leave it at that. Not an expert immediately? It’s dead to me.
But I know there is growth in the process, and for most things, I can improve, even if I never get to expert level. (Boo.) So I try new things. I attempt a new recipe. I agree to give a public presentation. I go for a new yoga pose in a gym full people.
And I fall.
Sure, it hurt my face, but it bruised my ego more. I tried to do that thing adults do when they’ve hurt themselves and they want to pretend it’s all fine and probably won’t even leave a mark and yes you do like Jessica’s leggings and you too wonder where she got them. I got up and did a couple sun salutations and got into a modification of the pose I was attempting. I set my gaze and focused on my breath. And as I was holding baby grasshopper instead of the full-on grasshopper, one of the gym-goers walked by and said, “I wish I could do that!”
Progress not perfection. Don’t be so afraid to fall, that you don’t even try. Bruises are cool and modifications are awesome and strangers can be encouraging. Aim for the jump you don’t know if you’ll land. Falling isn’t the end; it’s just part of the journey.
The exploration of a wave is an odd concept, particularly for someone who has not considered it. The landscape of every wave is different and fleeting, but it is a landscape full of folds and slopes and raw power. Each wave carries its own colors and smells and tastes and sounds unique to its moment in time. In it, is the life and death of a place that is wondrous and powerful.
To explore this land takes patience, focus, and understanding. It takes dedication and sacrifice to achieve the level of skill required to inspect God’s fleeting artistry. You must understand where to draw speed, where to take cover, and how to exit. There are many vehicles to explore waves, and all provide a different journey and perspective, often as unique as the wave itself.
As short as a breaking waves’ life is, throughout that span, it constantly changes. It is a fleeting planet, a falling star, whose exploration takes the ultimate pioneer.
Some say it has all been done, that there is nothing left to explore, those folks don’t surf….
Edgar~
I can’t speak for every yoga teacher of course, but as a student I do wonder what the view is like from up there, at the front of the class, and what the instructor might be thinking as he or she is taking us through the flow. On the flip side, I know exactly what I’m thinking as I’m teaching a class. Here are some of those thoughts:
I like her outfit. Total chick move, but yes, I am noticing the cute tanks and leggings the students wear to class. If I ask you where you got it, just tell me it was super expensive. I need to stop.
I’m sorry my hands are so cold. Every time I assist someone, I rub my hands so they are aware of my presence, but also to try to warm them up. It’s a lost cause. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone waived off an assist because I was freezing them out, but so far that hasn’t happened.
Am I making sense? Even though the cues I’m giving come from my training, experience and my own practice, sometimes I wonder if they make sense when they fall on my students’ ears. I know your can’t really “shine” your chest forward… unless it’s a really sweaty class… but it might make you open up more and that’s what we’re after. If I ask you to breathe into your left thigh, you have my permission to throw a block at me.
I’m really glad you’re here. I am grateful for everyone who shows up to class. I know the good that it’s doing them, and I selfishly feel good about helping them feel good. It’s a regular feel-good-festival going on.
Y’all are doing so great! I give encouragement during class all the time, but sometimes I just want to yell, “Oh my gosh! You guys look great!!” I don’t want to disrupt everyone’s flow, so I don’t. But just know that watching a class all flow together is awesome. It’s like a dance. It’s expressive and vulnerable and just beautiful. You’re doing amazing. Trust me.
Until I became a teacher, I didn’t realize how much instructors root for their students. We notice if you look stressed walking in, and we hope you are less stressed walking out. We notice if you are hard on yourself or if you are pumped at holding dancer for a few seconds longer than usual. We see your focus and your progress and we are just so dang proud.
At the end of class, when we’re seated in easy pose and I look out at the faces, what I’m thinking most, is thank you. Without the students, there is no teacher, and the act of teaching makes me a better student…and there’s that feel-good-festival all over again. So when I bow I am saying thank you. Thank you for choosing to be on your mat and to be in this class and to contribute to our flow. The light and love in me, sees and reflects the light and love in you. Namaste.
I’m just going to go ahead and say it, and then we can dive into why.
I harmonized the “om” tonight in yoga class.
Quite honestly, I’ve considered it many times before. It just feels right to me. A group of people, all saying something together, kinda drawn out like you’re meant to sing it… it seems natural.
Now for those of you who practice yoga for its spiritual enlightenment and for whom the “om” is a vocal manifestation of all that is light and love, let me just say that I’m in no way trying to take that away from you. I’m trying to add to it.
I’ve been practicing yoga for a while now, and it’s becoming a big part of my fitness journey. I love the poses and the breath and it’s been a remarkable calming presence through some really turbulent times. And yet, the word I would use to describe my overall connection to yoga is playful. I like to make up poses. I like to do yoga with my dog, who really enjoys being on the mat and preferably, wherever I’m just about to put my body next. He’s very into the playful part of yoga also, and the part that makes me fall on my head so he can lick my face. I enjoy yoga outside, with the sun on my face, and I love trying arm balances and poses that are beyond my reach, so I can laugh at myself and make up my own modifications. Playful.
So when the end of class comes, and we all sit tall with our eyes closed and reflect on our intentions, I take a moment to reflect, be grateful, be honest with myself and with the reasons I am on this journey. I appreciate my body and my breath and all that it allows me to do. And when the instructor says we’re going to “om” I take a moment before I come in. I listen to the other voices fill the room, and for most of them to find and match the teacher’s pitch. I let the outliers shift and lock on to the note, and then, when they’re all on “mmmm” – I take the third.
It’s not very loud and it’s not meant to draw attention. It’s just meant to be fun, and an understated note of beauty and appreciation for the moment. Tonight I was the only one, but I have hope for the others with a musical ear. Maybe some time soon one of them will join me with the fifth. And when I bow I will have a special nod just for them. The playfulness in me, recognizes and honors the playfulness in you. Namaste.
It’s important that base layers fit snugly to hold in your heat.
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