“Throughout your life, people will recognize that you are a capable person and ask you to do things with them and for them. You need to find a way to distinguish between your path and that of others.”

Why is this so hard, I wonder? I know this less frantic pace is the actual speed of my presence. Any faster, and what gets done is not connected, not deliberate, not real.

It is an act of love to put our bodies between more guns and more temples, to say, stop, enough is enough.

“Maybe human beings are not supposed to contain this level of cognitive dissonance.” I believe that’s true. We can’t.

Structural racism is everywhere, there is no escape.

Your feelings matter. Holding our feelings as feelings is the only way we can hold onto our humanity in this time of great pain.

Yogic philosophy sets Ahimsa, non-violence or non-injury, as one of the five self-restraints, things we don’t do so that we can be in right relationship with each other.

The work is not to lose ourselves.

I know that what we are seeing is not just a massive group of people pushing feelings and discomfort onto others in violence. But it is also that.

What will the seasons look like for my adult daughter when she grows up? What renewal is possible?

Turns out, doing nothing is really (really) hard.

I can’t say that I don’t feel the tug of youth-as-beauty. It is pervasive, almost automatic, and it takes mindfulness and presence to return to the present.

Yoga says, not “stay as you are,” but rather “when we truly are, we evolve.”

Who we are is contextual, in motion, and deeply affected by the narratives in our heads.

How do we find the balance between what we should endure and what we really should not.

This time, I tell myself, I want to look at it (even) more realistically, building in (even) more moments of rest.

From where I’m sitting, it looks like Generation Z has what they need to survive. And more.

Someone wise once said that humans will do almost anything to avoid being confronted with their own soul. But when we stop avoiding it, we are blown away by awe.

My grandmother was ruthlessly honest when she did not understand my fashion or other choices. But she was never dismissive or judgmental.

I learned over time. First to feel, then to sort the feelings out from each other, then to express them, and then to accept them without shame.