From Glass Petal Smoke, which I’m so in love with

“The life of a pencil is clear from the beginning. After seven inches all that is left is a disposable relic. A pencil doesn’t tell you it will love you forever. Its ability to commit is obvious from the moment you place it in a sharpener.”

This was written to my soul. The impermanence and the lovely nomadicism (yup a new word- try it out) feel like a beautiful and comforting validation of the state of my days. . . and how I hope they continue for days and days to come.

The goat reference is from the beautiful start to my morning. . . and it’s making me want to get a few goats when I return to the east coast, to wander through the garden patches and chill with on the rocky ocean beaches. My friend Lisa used to have goats growing up and they would hop in the station wagon with the family dog to drop them off at school or go on vacations. . . I’ve had dogs, now I want goats.

So this morning, I hiked up to the huge C above the UC Berkeley campus – you can tell from the cityscape below what the weather will be like- fog covering San Fran and it’s going to be chilly, clear and blue over the Golden Gate Bridge and it’s going to be gloriously hot!

. . . and I stumbled onto a hillside of goats! They let them roam and munch all summer below the lab (i shudder to think of what the lab leaks on them though, and come to think of it all of us. . .) and under the sweet eucalyptus trees. . . there must’ve been a hundred of them and they were all different colors- brown, white, grey, black and spotted. . . yawning and blinking sleepily at me. . . making grumbles and pawing the grass. . . I was the most delighted girl in the world. . . especially since some had grandfather beards and were too adorable for words.

Last but not least. . . after a long absence (anything over a week is too long for me) from my beloved stretching of mind and body, I’m headed back to the studio that moved to Berkeley just a bit before I did- both of us from the East Coast and both random, open and unique.

“this yoga is for Mothers, Brothers, Sisters and Grandmothers. Poets, Bakers, Painters and Artists.”

Hell yeah.  I’ve loved being a part of this growing community. . . and wish it would spread like wildfire everywhere, even back to Maine. . . where I’ll be cranking out projects and digging happily in the garden again for a bit very soon.  It’s just another place to stop when I’m in New York!

And my reward for those challenging flow sequences are thoughts of make-your-knees-weak ice cream or smoothies from Cafe Gratitude. . . and honestly sometimes focusing on the breath or calming my thoughts during the core work just doesn’t do it like the promise of a delectable treat in my favourite cafe.

But my nomad energy always finds what it needs. . . and every single moment is full of lovely thoughts, chocolate scented pencils, and things to make me smile. . .