Svabhāva

We have crossed the halfway mark of our time here in Nashville.  Each day, classes have run from 7 am to 6:30 p.m. with short breaks for breakfast and lunch.  If it is very intense for the students, I imagine it is doubly intense for the teachers (there are three).  They are giving us everything they have, without holding back.  In fact, that is their goal so that, at the end of the three years, we will be our own personal version of everything they know.  And they know a LOT.

It's funny.  We all arrived a bit cautious about the others and unsure of our own abilities and experiences.  Some people, especially the West Coast people, know each other but many of us arrived alone without a friend to sit next to for reassurance.  We have slowly - and quickly - come to know each other through class discussion and mealtime conversations.  Although it has been my multi-year project to be less shy and more open, I was plenty wary of my fellow students.  As one person put it, yoga people can be so weird.

To my delight, I have had no reason to stay wary.  Far from weird, we are, as a group, interesting, experienced, sincere people.  Some have more knowledge in one area and some in another but we all have something to contribute and we share a deep desire to learn and to be of service to people who are interested in how yoga can be used therapeutically.  If I may say so, we are a most excellent group!  No doubt this is because the teachers are most excellent.  I hope you will study with them if you can.

Besides the in-depth discussions about philosophical topics - oh yes, I can go on about the meaning of life, believe me! - I am especially fascinated by the three observations we have done.  Three willing (and brave) people have come in and had three consultations with one of the teachers while we listen and watch.  After their visit and the person leaves, we discuss our observations and clarify what we saw and didn't see.  Each of the people has a serious issue - two of them are living a life of debilitating chronic pain.  Watching the teachers in action has been beyond inspiring.   Each of the people has come in a bit scared and uncertain about this process and has left clearly feeling better than they have in years.

It is rather heartbreaking to be honest.  Our tools are so simple and so easily within reach for absolutely everyone.  It is hard to reflect on the years of suffering that each of these people have endured, going from doctor to procedure and medication.  Maybe it is exactly because part of the healing comes from stopping the notion that the fix is coming from "out there" and to turn the light around about what is happening, and not happening, in here.  To be clear, I don't mean that, if you break your leg, you can meditate your way to proper bone healing.  Of course not.  At the same time....look closely, really closely, at your life.  Often the answers are not far off at all.

It is difficult to even begin to share in a coherent way all that has already happened in a few days.  Fortunately for me, another participant is more eloquent than I am.  Please read what she has to say.  It's lovely and, truly, just the tip of the iceberg here in steamy Nashville.

Embarking

For the past several days and for several more yet to come, I am in Nashville, TN, to attend the first module of training in yoga therapy course - a three-year program that includes a total of six trips to Nashville, many web-based meetings and, I hope, one trip to India to study.

It is very exciting.  It is very intense (seven 12-hour days and two 6-hr days).  Naturally I have many thoughts and opinions about the whole thing but, at the moment, no time to share them.  Indeed, I must sleep now or I will deeply regret it in the morning.

See y'all soon!

PS.  Newfoundland is much nicer in late June than Nashville.  Just saying.

Handpainting Fibre and Yarn Workshop in Gillams, August 2nd/3rd

This summer, I will be hosting the wonderful Ani Michelle Mueller, who is the creative force behind Widdershins Woolworks.  She will lead a two-day workshop in Gillams on hand painting and dyeing fibre and yarn.

She will focus on handpainting yarn and fleece using acid dyes.  Topics covered will include colour mixing, painting tips for best results and she will share all her hard-earned secrets for getting the most beautiful, unique product for knitting and spinning.  Ani has over three decades of experience as a fibre artist and business owner, so she has much to share with us.  You can see some her work on her website.

There is an option to attend one ($100) or both days ($175 - and I highly recommend you come both days!).  Fees include lunch and all materials.  Please be in touch with me if you are interested in attending and/or need assistance/advice about housing.  There are a very limited number of rooms in Gillams that will be available first come, first served for participants.

As you can see from these examples, Ani is not your average fibre worker.  She's got Talent.  She also is very funny and charming.  And did I mention generous?  Well, she is.  The course fees are based only on the cost of getting her to Newfoundland and back.  Ani herself is accepting no fees for her teaching.

I have no doubt that it is going to be a blast.  A blast resulting in oodles of gorgeous fibre to take home and play with.  Also mad skillz to take home and play with, yo.  The only question that remains is...

....will YOU be there to be part of it?

DBM

Two shows worth seeing at The Brooklyn Museum:  

Swoon:  Submerged Motherlands

and Ai Weiwei:  According to What?

Of course there are more than just two excellent shows there (and the wonderful fountain in front of the Museum) that are worth seeing.  So go already!  Plus, the Botanical Garden next door is free on Tuesdays so you can combine the visits if you have the stamina.

Glory Days

These are the glory days in the garden.  The roses are out and their scent is intoxicating.  Add to that the smell of the honeysuckle (hey - I don't agree with it being there but since it is...), and being in the backyard is a heady experience.  

She is a little miffed that she doesn't get to go out but the birds are happy.

My goal has been to simplify.  Being gone for the main gardening months year after year has resulted in a tangle of invasive plants (see mention of honeysuckle above), none of which can be tolerated in such a small space.  So I have been digging out the beds and replanting with low maintenance perennials and a few annuals.  Would I rather be creating a mini-farm for subsistence living in an urban setting?  Yes, but it just isn't happening.  My denial of that is why I have such a mess back there now.

Little by little, it is looking better and happier.

And a happy garden is a wonderful thing.

Minky (2004? - 2014)

Our most beloved cat, Minky, has moved on to larger hunting grounds, leaving us with years of fond memories of her loving nature towards people and ruthless nature towards any and all small birds and mammals.  

She enjoyed spinning almost as much as I do.

Last summer, we noticed that she was walking slowly and not really engaging in the merciless hunting that had made her reputation.  She had to stop and rest when traveling up the hill between her winter home and her summer home.  A trip to the vet in Corner Brook revealed that her heart was enlarged - a genetic condition that would end only one way, sooner or later.  The vet didn't recommend the pills and the other treatment involved traveling with her to PEI for thousands of dollars worth of surgery - surgery that would only result in the same outcome i.e. death, albeit months or possibly, years, later.

Minky brings new meaning to the Utopia Tent.

Minky was a dignified soul who didn't need to go through all that travel and invasive treatment.  She spent her earliest days at the shelter in Curling, winning the hearts of the volunteers there with her warm, friendly manner.  Also, she caught all the mice that were foolish enough to try to take up residence at an animal shelter.  We noticed her because of her sleek, all black appearance - like a mink or perhaps, like a Minky whale.  Thus her name.

She offered us years of dedicated service in keeping varmints away, sometimes resulting in multiple catches in a day.  We learned to watch our step first thing in the morning as there would be some tidbit waiting on the welcome mat as a gift of appreciation from Minky.  In her enthusiasm, she even carried a live chipmunk into the house during one of my public House Museum events.  She also loved to sleep on your lap and crawl up to rest her face so she could look right into your eyes.  She trained me well - a quick tap on my face at 3 am was all it took most nights to get me up so I could let her outside.

Last fall, as we packed up to head south, she knew, as she always did, that this meant she would shift back to her winter home.  We always fancied that she preferred our house - and she probably did considering the love and attention that was showered upon her there.  But last year, she lay on Finn's bed and looked at me out of one eye as I raced around, packing.  When I met her eye, I knew it meant only one thing - this was our final good-bye.  She never allowed me to give her tearful good-byes in year's past - she simply would have none of it and would wander away before we could weep and wail in front her.  I always respected that about her because, let's face it, who were we really weeping for, if not ourselves? Last year, she allowed me to pet her and speak softly, offering my apologies that, once again, we were leaving her behind.  I knew it would be for the last time.

I have been half expecting to hear of Minky's death this past winter, but no, the word was that she was fine.  Then, today, I heard from our neighbor that she has been missing for a week and, despite the efforts to find her, she seems to have gone.  I am not surprised.  This is how she lived - not making a fuss, just doing what was needed.

We loved you dearly, sweet, beautiful Minky!  Thank you for sharing your life with us.