My plan yesterday was to write about the fact that today is the one year anniversary of the first time I practiced with my yoga teacher at the yoga studio I now call home.
My life has changed so much in that year, as a direct result of the community, friendship, and inner reserves of strength and resilience that I found there.
Moving apartments (in large part an effort to reduce my yoga commute) has been about much more than relocation. It’s about starting over. “I don’t think you’d have been able to do this without your yoga,” my mom said. She’s right.
Clearly, I didn’t get around to writing about the depth of my gratitude for my practice and for community spaces yesterday. Instead, I was busy unpacking, catching up with a college friend, and taking my mom to lunch in the new neighborhood.
I wanted to write something today instead, but work stuff came up and the day has flown by. So I now have the choice to either go to yoga and celebrate this anniversary on my mat, or to write more.
I think it’s important that my practice come first tonight.
I will say this, though: a few days ago, a friend of mine pointed out that, the moment you meet a new person who goes on to become an important person in your life, everything changes. And isn’t it sort of stunning that, only seconds before that meeting, you didn’t even know who the person was? Didn’t even know that you both inhabited the same planet?
That’s sort of how I feel about finding my yoga studio. It had been on my list of places to try, and I had an inkling I’d love the practice. But I hadn’t made it there until a yoga teacher and friend suggested on a Saturday night that we take a Sunday morning class.
As soon as that class was over, I knew I’d be coming back often. I sensed already it could become my yoga home.
In the course of a one-hour class, everything changed. It’s as remarkable to think about this as it is to ponder falling in love with someone, or meeting a new friend for life.
Life is always changing, but it can often feel as though we spend much of it waiting for change. I spend more time than I ought to wanting for things to be other than as they are.
The funny thing is that, when change does happen, it’s usually nothing like what we imagined or thought that we wanted.
No matter how stuck or frustrated we may be, no matter how certain we are that our current circumstances will never be different, our whole world can be turned on its head, in ways both challenging and wonderful, in an instant.
This, I’m coming to understand, is one of the most magnificent things about being alive. In a moment, everything can change. And while anything may not be possible, so much more is possible than we can ever apprehend from where we stand.
May it be so. Happy Monday, friends. I’ll be back this week with a simple, nutritious little recipe.
I can’t help but notice that we’re almost halfway through February, which is insane. The month so far has been a blur, and I suppose that’s what happens when you’re out of commission for a week. Fortunately, I got to catch up on my blog reading this weekend, which was (as you’ll see in a moment) productive. And by the time I post next Sunday’s weekend reading, I’ll be in New Orleans with Chloe, which is something to look forward to. For now,…
Only a few hours ago, a name popped up in my inbox that I hadn’t seen it years. It was a note from my Orgo II professor from a decade ago (yikes!) at Georgetown. The subject line was “recipe with (meatless) success.” As it turns out, my professor’s wife had found a chili recipe of mine (this one or this one—I’ll have to ask him) via The Washington Post. She’d served it to loved ones, and according to my professor, everyone really liked it….
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On Friday, I saw the news that poet Louise Glück had passed away. Food writer Jeff Gordinier wrote in an Instagram post that her collection of poems, The Wild Iris, is “a book that can save your life.” Gordinier noted that her work had been on his mind recently, even before the news of her passing reached him. It hadn’t occurred to me to turn to Glück’s poems over the course of this heartbreaking past week. But I should have, and since Friday,…