The Other Path to Enlightement

Imprisioned in the house from the cold, Christmas is a holiday to get through and New Year’s resolutions have never worked for me, so I struggle… every year, this time of year.  Repressed memories.  Unreached goals. Fear of more failure.  Gratitude for having more than enough laced with guilt in thinking of all those in

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election results help

Warning: Don’t read this if you are in a good place today. I need you…one of you…any of you…my spiritual leaders, to tell me how to let this go and choose love; to be non-judgmental, but without enabling or accepting fear or hatred. I need someone to hold my hand this morning.  No, wrap me

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Choose Love

Raw and scared and hopeless and unsure and angry and revengeful: Hatred is a result of all of these faces. There is no need to see photos of victims, know their names or hear their stories; I choose not to know so please don’t talk details.  My protective cover is on. The sensational story lines are

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Falling, Flying and Wakeful Napping: Healing My Concussion

(This first person perspective was written in July 2010 while 6-20 days post-concussion. The timing of the concussion was incredibly serendipitous; six days later I was scheduled to attend an 11 day Yoga of the Heart training with Nischala Joy Devi at Kripalu Yoga Center. The program is designed for cardiac and cancer therapy, but

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The Perfect Act

This may teeter somewhere on the yogic realm, but blogging about David Bowie fulfills a need to thank the man who widened my teenage eyes. Growing up in a we-are-all-the-same bubble of white, Catholic suburbia, Bowie had loads to teach me about being a happy teenager. Not to underestimate his brilliance, which filled the Museum

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