One of my yoga students recently wondered if she'd been removed from my list as she hadn't gotten an email from me in so long.
Nope. I just haven't written lately.
In September I'm going away for a whole week to train with a teacher who's inspired me for nearly twenty years. I have no doubts about going, but I am pretty nervous.
On a practical level, I have a full-on home life... It's going to take some work for things to run smoothly while I'm gone, even if I am married to a domestic wizard and have family nearby to help.
I have a life that I’m really happy and grateful for—despite mortgage payments and daycare expenses—but it'd be a lie to pretend that I never find it challenging. That when I’m lying on the floor surrounded by Lego and listening to recorded ocean sounds so I can feel soothed for five stolen minutes that I don’t sometimes wish to be lying on a real beach, listening to real waves, and not having to get up to fold the laundry.
I recently spent a Sunday afternoon with thirteen beautiful women. They each carved out four hours, plus traveling time, to come to The Art of Self Care, a mini-retreat I teach several times a year.
Teaching is right up there on my YES list. I feel alive in a very particular way when I hold space for people to learn, feel and connect.