Finding Home

     There is a silent rhythm to which my son moves. I see it in the way he flicks his empty bottles of juice, nuts or his portable square JBL speaker. I see it in the way he chooses his clothes from the dresser drawer or the way he returns his plate to the kitchen sink. One might say it takes a long time for him to get his chores done because of this. He moves to a rhythm, in a kind of choreography where he bounces with every step.  I would say my son dances to this rhythm, his own beautiful rhythm.     So  this  Saturday morning, when I ask him to help me clean up the room and he does his usual bit of choreography reveling as always to the beat inside his head, I realized how I as well, fell into a daily rhythm of my own as I deliberately transitioned into another phase in my life. Falling back into motherhood, housekeeping being a huge part of it and teaching Yoga on select days. While the circumstances that led to this were less than ideal, I would like to think that what is more i

"The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other's welcome,"   As I wake earlier than the boys to prepare for the day's necessities, I find myself introspecting on Derek Walcott's words whose meaning have changed over the years in the various seasons that have come to pass in my life.  I prepare the rice and set it on the stove. Then I sit at the kitchen table with my cup of black relishing so much the silence and stillness in our home. It allows my body, mind and heart to ease into the various comings and goings of the day. Thoughts appear though not necessarily interconnected or perhaps they are: I am a mother first. Always. I chose this life. Every departure was, is a choice. Every coming home too. Letting go and forgiveness is a process I have to do many, many times. How do I imbue love, kindness and compassion in all the choices in my life when self-judgment is ever p

In this heat Be here Breathe Exit doors may be open or there might not be any Still, Be here We might plead for rain to fall So we won't have to feel it all or at all But we are not in control Nothing is in our control  So all that is left to do is  be still, say yes surrender thinking feel everything Nowhere to go but here Maybe even no one to be with in this  So, Be here Do not forget,  we are built for this The door that is for us is right here where our life beats.  Enter here In this heat Be here Breathe. “So even if the hot loneliness is there, and for 1.6 seconds we sit with that restlessness when yesterday we couldn't sit for even one, that's the journey of the warrior.”                                                                                                                    ― Pema Chödrön Thank you for the practice, Melissa. 🙏

Come to the temple of your longing This place of honoring will embrace you Even as it will break your heart This place of grace and forgiving will give you back your anger That for so long you have denied This place of gentle confrontation will compel you to sit with your darkness, meet every ache with tenderness This place of delicate annihilation will unravel your layers revealing your truth no shame or apology, only what is This place of revelation will ground you This is who you are, Right here, right now This place of all there is Of palm trees and fallen leaves In the eternity of wind and waves Soar here, float here, land here Come into this place of need, Of seeking then finding Come into this now open body Into the now expansive mind, into the temple of your now resolute heart.     Raycien , much gratitude to you for bring this piece to life on the back of my heart . As my teacher, Leela Dasi says,  "It is dancing, it is alive." In Photo: A Black and White Lotus Tatt

 ..."You are a woman. Skin and bones. Veins and nerves. Hair and sweat. You are not made of metaphors. Not apologies. Not excuses...  Forgive yourself for the decisions you have made, the ones you still call mistakes when you tuck them in at night. And know this: Know you are the type of woman who is searching for a place to call yours. Let the statues crumble. You have always been the place. You are a woman who can build it yourself. You were born to build." - Excerpt, The Type, Sarah Kay Honoring my healing. Honoring the place that held space for it. Honoring the heart and soul of Lotus Shores. 🙏   Thank you, Raycien for making this honoring beauty on my back. 

        At the beginning of the school year 2020-2021, I was disconcerted with the thought of how there would be no physical classes and therefore no students in the school given the precarious situation of the Covid-19 pandemic.   My mind raced. What would happen to my role as a Guidance Counselor if I had no kids to interact with? If I had no parents to engage with, as this was elemental in my work before the pandemic. For a moment there, I lost my bearings and felt useless. But then I looked more deeply and observed more closely what was still present minus the physical presence of the students and parents. It was there that I saw and realized how the very human beings who have taken on the task of nurturing the students, who have willingly taken on the role as second mothers and fathers of the children I have worked with, are with the full force of their entire being, present and still fighting the good fight.             So since Week 1 up to the present of this first year of On

 There were two fireflies last night,  the sound of wind brushing trees that sounded like Mama Ocean's swell and the cold that seeped through  2 layers of thermal clothing and skin It would be a mistake not to notice the insect's twinkling little behinds, realizing they were like stars within my  reach but not quite It would be a mistake not to listen to wind song and know ocean and mountain are one It would be a mistake not to allow myself to welcome this comforting coldness and not be silenced,  not to stay still and breathe. Here March 10, 2021