A bit of radiance

Today I started teaching a fresh online session of morning quickie kundalini, and as I was preparing, it hit me that I wanted to share a tiny reading at the beginning of class.

Then I realized… whoa, I haven’t even wanted to pick a reading for so long, much less read it aloud in class, thanks to the darkness of utter disbelief in anything but the material world that has been plaguing me for the last few years. (I wrote about my sudden release from depression related atheism in the previous post.)

This felt like a big deal… yet another layer of change or another layer of becoming myself again.

And when I was explaining this at the beginning of class, the glee with which long term students reacted to my little announcement confirmed my feeling that we’d all been missing this.

If you’ve been in classes with me, you know I select these randomly by letting the book fall open or having someone yell out a page number.

So here’s the one I read this morning. It’s from this book, which is one of my favorites ever.

Radiance Sutra #61

Adorable one,

Sit or lie down, completely immobile,
Beholding the cloudless sky —
Or if there are clouds, the sky beyond.

As vastness envelops you,
The body vanishes,
Thoughts forget to come.
In this moment,
You are the nature of the great sky.

JoyList: Things that make me go OH!

I haven’t done this in a while so here are some things that are making me happy or feeding into my curiosity or making me go OH! in a big way. I hope some of them do the same for you.

This tai chi guy is one of my fave movers right now and his shorts on YouTube (and TikTok) are just the right bit of info to give me something to play with or think about with my movement.

We often think of “exercise” (not the movement play you and I do together) as activating of the fight or flight response on the brain level (and it is), but now research is showing the vagus nerve can be active too. I’m thinking that what you and I often do together is activating all kinds of safety in the body so I find this research interesting.

This podcast is delightful on many levels. The Movement Movement is hosted by a guy who talks in a way that totally reminds me of Jeff Goldblum. Same sorts of rhythms and phrasings. HY.STERICAL. BUT he also has a lot of great guests and he’s pushing the ideas around movement in ways that I appreciate and you will too. This particular episode has a section about healing touch that is compelling on an neuroscience level. They don’t call it healing touch but that’s what you, my woo sisters, would know it as. ((smile)) Here it is on Spotify and here it is on YouTube.

Speaking of Tai Chi, here’s one of my favorite choreographers whose work is grounded in Tai Chai, working with one of my favorite companies. When you’re watching, think about the body’s weight and gravity. It’s something we can all play with more.

I’m really digging this dancer who is currently in residency at the Baryshnikov Arts Center in NYC.

Pilates is notoriously NOT body inclusive. (And yes, there are exceptions…I’m about to talk to one…) THIS instructor on Instagram is working to change that (and here’s another with whom I’ve actually taken classes here in Columbus).

If you love earrings and art and artful earrings, please go and check out and support my friend Brandy Morris. She’s an amazing human doing beautiful work.

What has been bringing you joy? I’d love to hear! Please send me clips, links, whatever as you come across them. I love collecting all these shiny bits.

Joy and Grief Live Side by Side in Memory

We had a beautiful wedding to attend this past Saturday in Erie, and I also made sure that our schedule allowed for a couple of hours at the beach, rather than the five minutes that that important part of myself usually gets allotted.

Craig went running with his brother, and so I had about 45 minutes of that time just for me, my iced latte, chocolate croissant, and a bit of journaling and reading.

I started to read a Virginia Woolf I’ve somehow not read (Between the Acts), and the morning was perfection. There’s something about me and Woolf and water. When I first moved to Chicago for grad school at the age of 23, I sat on the edge of that lake and read Mrs. Dalloway and that memory will forever beckon me.

That memory will forever beckon me… That sentence is filled with nostalgia and sentimentality and joy and grief, isn’t it?

When we left Erie, I, as usual, felt a mixture of sadness and anger. I love that lake and am linked to it forever. And yet that town, that small city, does not seem to be able to recover itself from its identity of “GE town,” and I fear that that inability to move on will be its death. Every time we go home, it seems a little more critical in terms of its health.

Remember I lived in the actual CITY — not out in some suburb — for well over 20 years. I lived in a realm of hope that turned into delusion that turned into bitterness, until I realized that I was becoming some sort of toxic version of myself and needed to move on… needed to MOVE, period. I could no longer tolerate the constant talk of “any day now” for which there was never any real evidence. (Entrenched politicians are greatly to blame for what’s happening in Erie but that’s another blog post and not my point here.)

I was born on the edge of the bay in the old Hamot Hospital.

We soon moved away and then moved back. My entire childhood would be a series of moving away and returning, over and over, as my father pursued higher and higher education.

Every time we moved away, we knew it was temporary. We would lament not being in Erie. We would look forward to the year or month or day that we got to move back.

In every school I went to in all the different places we lived, I would be that little girl, red in the face, defending her beloved home against the taunts of “dreary Erie, the mistake on the lake.”

The ache for a return to Erie was born and bred into me.

I myself have tried to move away a few times, and each time, like some migrating bird, I end up back there, unable to resist the pull… the very magnetism of that lake, my true north.

But this time is different.

We are in Columbus, and though I love it here and I love our house, this too might not be permanent. I don’t think I can live the rest of my life without big water, but I will not return to Erie.

We will find a place to put roots that has big water but that does not break my heart with its stilted ways and cliquey groups of humans that seem to be stuck in high school concepts of relationship. (I think that’s an inevitable sort of outcome in a very small city where people can’t let go of the ideas that they have of others from when they were teenagers.)

Where we are right now is growing, and that matters… An environment of growth and change that is future oriented allows for humans to grow and change and evolve into new and exciting versions of themselves.

But with all of the good of this place, it is not the place to which I am tethered. The sense of tugging can be very subtle most days and other days it’s quite painful. Visiting Erie brings all of this up for me every single time, and for many days after, the pain of the loss returns full force.

Home is where the heart is and yet sometimes home is where there is too much pain so we must do our best and find new, fertile ground (and water) that allows our hearts to heal and expand.

Re/Joy in this shitty time

Name one era when you think things were better, and I’ll be 100% correct that it wasn’t, no matter what time you name. History repeats itself, for sure. If one group isn’t marginalized, a whole host of others are.

When I was in college in the late 80’s/early 90s, things did feel like they were somehow shifting. Yet even that was an illusion: the economy was tanking, poverty was rising, homelessness was worse than ever (thanks, Reagan), incarcerations were on the rise and wouldn’t stop (and won’t stop), the war on drugs was targeting the wrong thing and the wrong people (for the most part), people were banning music (remember that?), the excess of the few was the leap off of the cliff that would start the real climate spiral, and I could go on.

Today things feel worse because they’re so much more on the surface and in our face pretty much 24/7. We had a toxic idiot of a President that made all hate acceptable in a very public way. (Some would argue we needed to see that … that too many of us were still living in denial… I kinda agree.)

So all times have, technically, been shitty times. For someone. For groups of someones.

And yet humanity keeps trying to move forward. Honorable or stupid? Some days I go back and forth depending on how exhausted and angry I’m feeling.

Most days… most days, I feel like we’re to be admired for a seemingly bottomless well of hope and effort and optimism.

Most days, I understand that those of us with access to hope and effort and optimism have to hold on to those things, if not for ourselves then for those who just can’t anymore.

To do this requires a certain kind of mental, emotional, and spiritual musculature. It’s easy, in this world, to allow that to atrophy, and then when we need it, to act surprised by its weakness.

In other words, we have to use some of our effort muscle to keep our hope, effort, and optimism muscles in shape. The world needs them.

How do we do this? What is the “gym” of this sort of workout?

It’s the very world that we can find so utterly reprehensible.

But we need to take that world in our hands and turn it every so slightly so we’re looking at it from a different angle: we need to look at it in better lighting so that we can see the beauty and love there. There are days that no matter how much we adjust the angle or the lighting that the beauty and love we find feels just about… microscopic. But that doesn’t matter.

It’s in this noticing and then in the naming that we work out. This is our gym. These are the weights we lift over and over for strength. The treadmills we walk and run for stamina. The stretches we use to maintain mobility.

And these sorts of workouts for emotional, mental, and spiritual musculature need to be as consistent as any we do for our bodies. You know full well that you can’t run a marathon if you’ve been sitting on the couch for the entire year leading up to it. You’re not surprised that you can’t deadlift some crazy amount if you’ve never picked up anything heavier than a soup can.

But we act surprised by our own exhaustion over the work of the world when we’ve done very little to maintain our healthy connection to that same world. We wonder at our anger and our rage that is paralyzing when we’ve done nothing to feed our joy that is mobilizing.

Start small, just like you would with any exercise program. Small steps, small amounts, build slowly but be mindful and intentional and persistent to the point of stubborn.

Start today: go outside with a small notebook and just make lists of everything you see that you love. Do this for… five minutes. Then do it tomorrow and the day after and the day after…

JoyList: Stuff floating my boat

Are you heading to any music or festivals this summer? We started off this past weekend with our neighborhood ComFest (community arts and music festival). It’s been going on in our park for 51 years.

Obviously, the stilt walker was at our festival. She was one of two. I can’t imagine. Even this bit of height would turn my stomach, but they were so happy and smiley.

Other things floating my boat…

Did you hear about this wacky and amazing science-y discovery that is blowing all the scientists brains this week? The papers were released on the 28th and wow! If you like time and space stuff, check it out.

OH! I have a new video of a super simple and highly effective psoas release that also works, of course, on your diaphragm and your nervous system. Go here and look under “shorts.” It’ll be the first one with me looking way up at the camera. And if you get something out of it, make sure to like, comment, and/or subscribe. (Thank you!)

Speaking of YouTube:

Something new from one of my favorite dance companies.

My favorite creator who talks about her different brain and burnout and how she’s healing that.

Have you ever watched any of the videos by this Chinese creator? She lives in the mountains on her grandparents’ farm and does every freaking thing by hand and traditional methods. Watching her cook or build something is so freaking soothing to me. She also practices traditional arts like calligraphy… just whoa.

For my Butoh loving peeps, here’s a short video of Kauo Ohno (one of the founders) talking about technique and motivation.

For my book lovers, here are a few of my recent faves, but you can always just look at my goodreads.

For specific books:

I’m about 2/3s of the way through Lisa See’s most current book. ANYTHING SHE WRITES is worth your time.

I loved Louise Erdrich’s most recent. She just never misses the mark.

And someone told me to read this Rebecca Solnit quite a while ago. I love her work and am loving this too.

What’s floating YOUR boat?

JoyList: things I'm loving right now and hope you do too

And we will dive right in:

In response to an observation about a list of music being predominantly men in the sanctuary recently, I am creating (and will continue to add to) a women artists only joyful/happy/energy music list.

I suggest you listen on shuffle or you could use this list for a daily dance song. Just hit shuffle and say to yourself, “I will dance/move to whatever comes up!” (Music roulette like we used to play in the Erie studio.)

Not so joyful but very necessary is the following book I’m currently reading about Deep Medicine. It is laying new territory in my brain, to say the least, and I expect it will eventually impact the way I teach (if it hasn’t started to already).

My favorite quote so far (and I’m only a wee bit in): “…medicine is a social science and politics is nothing but medicine on a grand scale.” (The authors are quoting 1848 journal, Medical Reform.)

For a novel that has many of the same themes but told in a beautiful way, Everything the Light Touches or the most recent by one of my forever favorite authors, Louise Erdrich. If you go to that book link, you’ll be at my Goodreads.

If you need some happy mood lifting, I’ve been sharing quite a few kitten and flower videos on my TikTok. Excellent for mental health.

OH! If you haven’t gotten it yet, Katy Bowman’s newest book is so worth it. If you’re new to her work, it’s a great introduction to biomechanics in a practical way, and if you’ve been reading her and listening to her for a long time, it’s a great little refresher and go to resource for quick ideas and explorations. (If I already shared about this book, oops… and I’m not getting any kind of kickback. HA!)

Speaking of Katy, there’s a delightful and long conversation with her on this podcast. Use it for many walks!

Here’s one of my favorite current video/background sounds that I put on the TV all day long when I’m writing and working and moving. It’s enough to keep other weird noises covered but it also doesn’t interfere with my thinking.

And finally just a little reminder that I have a super small, private Facebook group now that is totally focused on neurodivergent brains. If you need community around that topic, feel free to ask to join.

And as always, if you’re not in the JoyBody Sanctuary or if you left and want back in, again, just ask to join. Doors are always open. As I currently describe it, it’s a soft place to land and a refuge from the hardness of the world.

Re/Joy: Slow Summer Update

As I wrote yesterday, I’ll be creating daily categories for the blog, and Tuesdays are about a process that I, quite a while ago, named the Re/Joy Project. There will be a lot more about this in the near future, including a podcast, but for now a brief explanation:

The concept of the Re/Joy Project is simply that we can create a process (one I’ll share over time) to reintroduce deep joy into our lives regardless of what’s happening. We’re big enough internally to do this sort of process even in the midst of grief.

The process is based in noticing and naming.

For this summer, I’m re/joy-ing by exploring the idea of Slow Summer.

I’ve always had a difficult time transitioning from the quiet of winter into the louder and more frenetic energies of late spring and summer. Suddenly everything is just SO MUCH! And most humans seem to think that we must fit in ALL THE THINGS in this bit of time when our bodies really want to be slow and languid. I mean, there’s freaking HEAT… stop moving around so much ((ha)).

Besides the sticky expenditure of energy, I feel like we miss a lot running from one activity to the next, running to “vacation,” running to another picnic or party. People seem so damned stressed in the summer and it seems like it should really be the opposite of that.

Thus, Slow Summer 2023.

For starters, I’ve made sure to make more time to sit in the backyard under the trees and with our new baby gardens and read. I also just sit and breathe and listen to the birds.

And though it might sound intrusive, there is a very large construction site about a block behind us… I can see it through a space between the houses behind us… anyway, the smell of cut wood drifts to me and that brings to mind my paternal papa who was a finish carpenter.

It’s all utterly delightful.

What ways could you create slow in your summer?

Young Bjork speaking wisdom

I came across this on TikTok a couple of weeks ago, and it’s stayed in my head, so I figure others need it too.

She’s NOT insulting Madonna but speaking some deep truth about instinct versus intellect. Wait until the very end when she talks about the age of your brain versus the age of your instinct… it made me go, WHOA… (This video is about a minute long… you have time.)