my mind is a flurry of thoughts during yoga practice. None of which ever seem to be things like “namaste” or “lentils are delicious!” or “ah yes! I am imagining that tree!” but more like “pizza!”, “booze”, “cigarettes!”, or “i should get stoned before coming here”
Yoga v. Cigarette
I started off the new year doing yoga every morning around 6am. I also attend a weekly (if I’m good) class in town out in public with other people. it’s lovely, but my mind is never rested or at peace. it worries and it considers dinner instead.
Yoga v Cheeseburger: the internal conflict.
I keep daily work journals for my other life as an accountant, mostly to track my to do list. I now have a drawer full of old journals with very boring information in them and so I’ve decided to try some paper craft journaling by turning these boring pages with scratch number math into something a little more bright and colorful. Here are my first couple of entries.
sometimes I get an idea in my head that I want to try something new thing. A few months ago that thing was embroidery. As it turns out, I don’t have a knack for it. But I did find a way to use those darling round frames.
“You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves” – M Oliver, Wild Geese
A Native American story tells that the turkey vulture once had great head plumage but he fanned the sun away from an overheating earth to save all it’s creatures. When he returned to earth his plumage had been burned away. Thank you turkey vulture.
The Wildwood Festival is coming up on July 17th – 19th. I’ll be taking part in the little art fair there and have printed these cute prints and mounted them to wood blocks for hanging. I’ve also made greeting cards for the occasion.
The Wildwood Music Festival is a great event here on our little town of Willamina, Oregon. Click the link for more information and to purchase tickets (which you should do!)
“Gardening is the handiest excuse for being a philosopher. Nobody guesses, nobody accuses, nobody knows, but there you are, Plato in the peonies, Socrates force-growing his own hemlock. A man toting a sack of blood manure across his lawn is kin to Atlas letting the world spin easy on his shoulder” – Ray Bradbury
“We come spinning out of nothingness – scattering stars like dust” Rumi