Beauty. Kripalu. Life.

I'm sitting at gate 15 in terminal 2 at JFK... and it is perhaps the nicest gate at which I have ever sat. My laptop is plugged in at my own little booth, and it feels as if someone is about to roller-skate over and bring me a (soy) milkshake. It is 9pm and I am exhausted, but so wholly content.

I almost didn't even begin writing this post, because I kept thinking:  I have less than an hour to board and what could words do in this instance, anyway? 


What I gained in the last month at Kripalu was more than a yoga certification. I gained a sangha... and I also gained myself (as cliche as it sounds). What I realized by the end of the second week in that sweet home in the Berkshires is that talk--words--will not explain what transpired--externally or internally. I can only express it by living it.

There will be many posts to come... regarding the realizations, the practices, the family I now know.

I have spent the last three nights in New York City with Elisabeth. I had not seen her in a year and a half, and yet... as always, we melt into each other light. Our parting was met with the joy that she will be in the UK for Christmas--a surprise to me and one of the best gifts I could be given any year. (She will not spend Christmas with us as she and her lovely fiance are going to London to see his mother, but I will still have her/them for at least a day.)

This afternoon I spent perusing Bergen Street and the surrounding areas of Brooklyn--waiting till 3:00 when I met up with my lovely summertime boss, his wife and their seven-year-old daughter. They want to publish my children's book. This is happy. Amazing.

For the majority of the last four weeks, I was in a nurturing, nourishing bubble... and I experienced some anxiety and apprehension about floating out of that bubble, but when I boarded the plane in Albany and the beautiful, black male flight attendant smiled at me, I just had this overwhelming sensation of words: Everything will be all right. This is right. Everything will be all right. When SuperShuttle botched my reservation and I ended up in a private cab to 111th Street on 11/11/11, and the thought crossed my mind that the driver could take  me wherever and cut me up into little bits, I thought of Devarshi (one of our teachers) and his proverbs... and I was content. I am light. My cells are light... and around my flesh, around my physical wrist are mala beads that remind me of amazing lights I have known, lights that have touched me, penetrated me, and are part of my own light now.

I went to Kripalu slightly bothered by some of the dubious or sympathetic responses proffered... and now, post-Kripalu, I beam: I am a yoga teacher. I am an academic and I am a writer and I am amazing. You  may not agree, and that is okay. You make think I flaked out, and that is okay. You may, like my sangha-sister Kelly says, think I drank some special kool-aid... and that is okay. You are still amazing too.

Love to all.

Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya
Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya
Om Namo Bhagavate Vasudevaya