October 31, 2011

Shall We Dance

At the Young Onset Parkinson’s Northeast Conference, I did something I hadn’t done in a long time. Years. Decades. I danced. After my childhood stroke, with literally half a leg to stand on, I crossed Dancer off my list of possible careers, hobbies and even casual past-times. But that didn’t keep me off stage in high school. Tall and not-so-graceful, the musical director cast me as an Amazon in “The King & I.” In my role, I stood cross-armed and at attention, guarding the entryway in each scene involving the king. Though I appeared more often than the wives — perhaps more often than Anna — in my role, I spoke no lines and certainly did not dance. I ventured onto the dance floor in college and at weddings. Two-stepping, waltzing, or lining up to do the Macarena called for so much concentration to get the footing right, to stay […]
October 20, 2011

Yama This

Mimicry represents a form of flattery, or so I’ve heard. When I discover my writings cut and pasted into other yoga web sites, ‘flattered’ isn’t how I feel. Irritated, yes. Annoyed that pieces — sometimes verbatim, sometimes slightly reworded — appear out of context and with no reference to the resources in the original. It delights me to share the benefits that yoga brings to others, like me, with movement disorders. I’m honored to work with fellow teachers so they can best meet the needs specific to our ways of moving. When the word is grabbed rather than shared, though, my heart sinks a little. Its from being disappointed because the benefits of yoga for Parkinson’s seem secondary to benefitting one’s own studio, web site, class offerings. But, on last check, the yamas – our yogic ways of being – do not list flattery, irritation, annoyance or disappointment among them. […]
October 16, 2011

Early Thanksgiving

I stepped in to Lakshmi Voelker’s Chair Yoga teacher training class and Thanksgiving came to mind. A specific Thanksgiving, one I shared with a long-lost cousin. Both happened at a similar time of year, when New England shifts from the colors of a sunset to the threat of frost. Both involved months of emails and phone conversations before deciding to get together. The only real difference was the pie. My cousin and I reconnected in the late ’90s, reviving our long-distance friendship from childhood. We hadn’t seen one another in twenty-five years and were overdue for a visit. Since her Florida autumn remained balmy, we opted for a Southern Thanksgiving. I boarded a plane in flip-flops, my carry-on item a still-warm apple pie. Wedged into the middle seat, up in the air somewhere between home and this unknown place, the ease of our past conversations led to trepidation. What if […]