steamy hot

the acupuncturist put a heat lamp over my inner thighs this morning. sweet, steamy heat. pretty sure some of it went to my brain. it just rained, after saying no rain. now the sun is out and everything is dripping and lush, curly willow branches, viburnum, lime green and purple echinacea. they are all moving almost imperceptibly, slight flutter in the leaves, slight sway to the stems. just trying to absorb every drop before it runs off into the ground.

what do you want your movement practice to be? sometimes it seems like a competition to be the more serious one, the more tired one, proving what? authenticity? relate-ability? dunno but i’m opting for rest and beauty and pleasure. i realize it’s a privilege, so honoring that, owning that, and using my privilege to uplift, serve, and connect people in any way possible to self-love.

reading Imani Perry, i came across a phrase, jolie-laide, french for ugly/beautiful, alluding to unconventional beauty, beauty below the surface, not attached to acquiring or presentation, mais je ne sais pas, to that certain something.

i love words.

the rug on my porch is plain and simply beautiful; red and orange, my fav color combination after pink and orange. those are the colors of the velvet curtains in my now closed yoga studio. they’re yet there, hanging on, still, waiting.

don’t you hate it when you know where something is and you go to get it, and it’s not there? I don’t lose things, really, I just can’t find them haha.

i’m scared sometimes.