Monthly Archives: December 2024

This poem is by Éva Ancsel. It’s translated from Hungarian by Ann Arbor Ashtanga practitioner Lilla Homolya. The image is a still from Tarkovsky’s gorgeous 1966 film Andrei Rublev, and is shared by Ann Arbor Ashtanga shadowshala (virtual) practitioner Ksenia Vlatkovic. Ashtanga is art and science. Art in the way of esoteric masonry, bookbinding, permaculture, […]

Six weeks out. Christmas Eve dawn at DTW, heading back to the west coast. This is the end of my 24th year of ashtanga practice. It’s the beginning of my 48th year of living. Feels like the weirdest possible halftime show. Halfway into this no-going-back decade, and into this life. Half of that life in […]

Monday morning at 4 again. Candlelight, cat, windchimes, wood stove. Moonpie purrs into my thigh like a little tiger. This space has opened up in my life, because the architecture of everyday mind is in flux. Witnessing a man die, at the height of his life. It’s the Mother of all rug-pulls. The top layer […]

It’s been four weeks, today. Same as the last three of those weeks, I’m up at 4 on my day off in Michigan winter. Candlelight, cat, and decaf espresso. I woke up saying I love you I love you I love you I love you. That has been going on for a couple years, an […]

It’s 21 days now since the afternoon in the Shenandoahs, when my teacher died. This morning I sat in the new moon dark in Michigan, where the fresh snow on the forest makes everything soundless. The memory washes over me first as touch. His sacred body. Enough said. The leaves under foot and the cool […]