tonight we discovered how quickly hair freezes at this temperature. about fifteen seconds for the first ice crystals, probably a minute for full thick icicles.
the more you know!
Only I understand this joy.
I walk until the water ends, and sit
waiting for the hour when clouds rise.
If I happen to meet an old woodcutter,
I chat with him, laughing and lost to time.” —Wang Wei
we’ll be kissing the warm dry earth of our southern california home next week but for now, the abundance of radiant snow, its sweet forest speed, its blue powder beauty, the stars bright as pain in the hard black sky— it’s pretty good. cold smoke, they call it. it’s pretty cold.
how sweet. you’re welcome :)
I’ll bring inside
a lovely bright ball of snow” —Matsuo Basho
Be melting snow.
Wash yourself of yourself.
A white flower grows in the quietness.
Let your tongue become that flower.
you must be new!
just kidding. check out my archive, I’ve posted many photos of myself doing what I love.
- starting off the day at a sweet little yoga studio in the heart of missoula, where fir floors & brick walls & buddhas abound
- building heat through surya namaskar b & a series of radiant backbends (ardha dhanurasana with a twist! full dhanurasana with elbows to the sky!)
- lavender eye pillows in savasana
- stomping around downtown in snow boots, holding hands
- drinking sage tea, looking out at the bright light haze over the cold mountains to the west
- going ice-skating tonight!!!!
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.” —Wendell Berry
- snow on the mountains, fog in the valleys
- stars in the crevices of clouds
- a growler of doppelbock, enjoyed fireside
- snowshoeing into a mossy forest of conifers for the hottest hot springs around
- dog is my co-pilot
I love you too! thank you so much for your sweetness in sharing this with me. WE ARE LOVE!
it breaks through for more & greater moments, supreme moments in which everything— you, me, all that is— shatters into THAT.
call it love.
of all the hundreds of times I’ve meditated, I’ve only experienced this caliber of awakened state a handful of times.
somewhere between laughter and tears, the lines blur.
I laugh at the sweetness of my mantra, and the sweetness of guru, and the sweetness of a stranger’s cough in the great void of silence. this, too, is love.
it goes in waves. michael says, that’s how the bliss moves.
I cry because I am humbled.
I cry because, although we have been asleep all this time, WE HAVE NOT! this is the true beauty of wakefulness: it sees through time. this is the beauty of THAT.
I laugh because we take it all so seriously sometimes, this denial of love. it is not a serious matter. we are all coming home to love. we are going home, and ARE home, all at once, in the space beyond time that is the only reality we can call home.
these thoughts just the surfacing after the dive, the choppy waves on the ocean of love that creates & sustains & destroys us in a brilliant dance with itself.
it’s just the weirdest thing, isn’t it, this being awake.