One morning I watched the sun rise, slivers of light penetrating the drawn blinds. Electric hell to my dilated pupils. The night had passed. A mystery powder appeared on the table. A straw moved from person to person as my friends for a night took their turns. When it came to me I was going in. It could have just been me and the potion provider. I didn’t need other people to convince me or show me it was safe. Snorting was my favorite mode of extracurricular ingestion. That
Some people get energy from being around people, getting all social up in their lives. I am not one of those people. I need downtime. I need to be alone to regroup and recoup my energy. As a mom and writer a lot of my energy is directed at what I give to others. I’ll never grow tired of hearing “I love you mama." Or having a stranger tell me that something I wrote has helped them. But today nothing sounds better than spending the day alone, in my room, with the blinds closed.
I started practicing yoga at a small, one room studio in Johnson City, New York in 2002. I was charmed by the word yoga, it contained mystery and magic and unanswered questions that beckoned my attention. I was back living with my mom undergoing treatment for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, “The most curable kind of cancer” they said. “This will be easy” they said. They were full of shit. The cancer and chemotherapy reducing my once young and abled body to a still young but definitely no