teacher posts

thirsty

By |2024-05-24T11:01:25-04:00May 23rd, 2024|

At thirty-six, I signed up for swimming lessons. After three frigid dunks, I stopped splashing around. At thirty-seven, I briefly sat in a circle of college students attempting to sing alto in a Georgian Choir. I squawked. Thrice, I've joined a coven of pussy worshippers and fell asleep when we were instructed to touch

the dynamic pause

By |2024-05-20T20:37:00-04:00May 20th, 2024|

The magic floated in later, never in those intentional minutes. Time and again, during subsequent hours and days there’d be a “sudden” connection or a solution to what had previously been a struggle. A decision made oh-so-quietly. A silent whisper of an idea. Did it just come? Or, possibly, was it always there and

off the mat

By |2024-05-10T15:59:41-04:00May 10th, 2024|

I have heard it said we need to take our practice off the mat. I always took that to mean practice without a mat (literal me). Or live the teachings of the yamas and the nyamas (philosophical me). Or even offer loving kindness to everyone (emotional me). But it has occurred to me that there

inside/outside

By |2024-05-10T15:13:57-04:00May 6th, 2024|

When we were in the studio Thursday night, doing the choreography that Sondra had created with the men at Greene County Correctional Facility, included in the instructions was that when we stopped to look out, it didn’t have to be friendly or happy - I’m not remembering the exact instruction. As I went through

weirding

By |2024-05-10T15:05:45-04:00May 6th, 2024|

I’ve been offering a workshop that I call “Weirding,” which is a braiding together of meditation-, movement-, and performance-based practices, ritual, reading, and discussion. This space comes out of years of experiential research—including in collaborations with other artists and weirdos like Lea Kieffer, Tomislav Feller, Eli Nixon, and Erica Dawn Lyle—and thinking with the

lint

By |2024-05-10T15:29:29-04:00April 29th, 2024|

I wake up in the morning with a pretty typical routine. My last dream fades, but  by the time I get in my car to head to yoga class; ideas, concerns, frustrations, and possibilities cling to me like lint. As I climb the stairs to the studio, I try to leave some of the