You Light Up My Life

I rode my bike today - it was cold, it was a little icy -- but despite the discomforts in the winter it is still my preferred mode of transportation.

It's a little more limiting at night, though -- so I usually don't stay out late in the winter when I'm on my bike.

Today I had a bodywork appointment that ended close to 6pm, so I wound up riding home in the dark. I went to turn on the lights on my bike, and the front light was dead. Time to recharge it -- but I couldn't do anything about that until I got home.

So I turned the back light on and headed home, taking the bike path. I stayed on my side of the path but I still got some unneeded commentary from another cyclist who felt the need to tell me that I needed a light. No shit buddy. Thanks for the PSA.

Then I turned off the path and up a street. There's more ice on the sides so when I can I try to ride a little more in the middle -- and move when a car comes. So that's what I was doing when a car passed me. The man then went into his driveway and came out of his garage and over to the street to tell me something. I braced myself a little after the encounter on the bike path, but this man's commentary came from a completely different place:

"I love your bike light! I could see you from two blocks away!"

"Oh I'm so glad!" I called out in response. "Thank you for telling me."

And as I pedaled away, this classic began to play on the internal jukebox:

And you light up my life
You give me hope to carry on
You light up my days and fill my nights with song

It was such a great example of how powerful kindness is, and how much more welcome and useful it is than unsolicited advice directed at someone when we don't really know their situation. I vowed to focus more on the former, and to try to eliminate the latter from my interactions with fellow humans as much as possible.

Because I would way rather light up someone's evening than take them down a notch:

And you light up my life
You give me hope to carry on
You light up my days and fill my nights with song

As I sang along, I also, as I do every single day, gave thanks that the man who lights up my life is back in it for good:

It can't be wrong
When it feels so right
'Cause you.....you light up my life

Mr. Tambourine Man

A friend posted Patti Smith's nobel prize performance of Dylan's A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall, and I just can't get enough of it. If you haven't seen it, it's a must watch.

As a result, I've been singing that song all day, including out loud on my bike ride to and from work. But I already blogged about that masterpiece, so here's another fine Dylan number to mark this day:

Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
Though I know that evenings empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirling ship
My senses have been stripped
May hands can't feel to grip
My toes too numb to step
Wait only for my boot heels to be wandering
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade
Cast your dancing spell my way, I promise to go under it
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
Though you might hear laughing, spinning, swinging madly across the sun
It's not aimed at anyone
It's just a escaping on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facing
And if you hear vague traces of skipping reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time
It's just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn't pay it any mind
It's just a shadow you're seeing that he's chasing
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted frightened trees
Out to the windy bench
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled by the circus sands
With all memory of fate
Driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you

What a poet indeed. So glad the Nobel prize people feel the same way!

Product of a Failed State

Thought for today: This is a beautiful life, filled with beautiful people.

I took the day off from practice today -- I was due, and plus it was my first chance to sleep in in 6 days. I rode my bike downtown to teach my yoga class -- freezing all the way there because I was supposed to go running after teaching and wanted to wear my running clothes. When I got there, I got a note from my running partner saying she couldn't run. Not a huge deal, but it would have been nice to have known that so I could've dressed for biking.

Went downstairs to teach my class to a bunch of regulars along with a couple of newbies. I love teaching yoga for so many reasons, but one of them is that whatever I'm dealing with in my life -- in this case lots of uncertainty about my next career step -- just sort of falls away.

Afterward I went into the sauna to heat up in preparation for the cold ride home, and I was joined by one of my students -- a 60 (that's a guess?) year old Liberian woman who has been regularly coming to my class with her daughter for the last few months.

My student asked about my job interview -- I had mentioned it in a previous class -- and I told her it went really well but I didn't get the job. She commiserated, and then proceeded to tell me that coming to yoga is one of the best decisions she ever made. She said it has changed her life, taking her from feeling as though she was crippled (her word -- but she doesn't have a lot of range of motion) to feeling as though she can move again. She said she wished that society put a greater value on the work that I do with my yoga students because it changes people's lives.

Wow. Talk about a conversation that fills one with both gratitude and perspective, something that this student comes by, as I have, through a traumatic experience. Hers was in her war-torn country, mine in the midst of an upper middle class upbringing in the Midwest.

I didn't know any Liberian musicians until I googled and found this one, and because the lyrics were not available on the internet, I only have one line to share with you:

I'm a product of a failed state

This student of mine, the product of a failed state, is such a shining example of the power of shared humanity to lift one another up. Human beings are good like that, and I'm proud to be one of them, new job or no new job...

Freebird

One of my favorite pics of some freebirds!

After yoga class last night with my favorite Reiki master (who just happens to bear a resemblance to my first love, which I try not to dwell on but can't help but notice), I scrapped my plan to go the grocery store and came home and went to bed instead. I set my alarm for 6:45 am, fully intending to get up, as I normally do, for my Ashtanga practice.

Didn't happen that way, though. After a 4 am wake up that included cleaning up four days worth of dishes (I needed a rest in the kitchen after cooking up a storm while my kids were here), I went back to sleep around 5:30 am and then promptly hit snooze when my alarm went off. Again. And again. And again. Finally at 7:30 am, I turned it off and laid back down again, thinking I'd just rest for another minute or so before getting up. The next thing I knew, it was 9:47 am! Oh well. Rest and healing are the name of the game over here right now I guess -- who am I to fight it?

Once I managed to rouse myself, I decided a little winter biking was in order today, which is always such an amazing feeling.  En route to the Capitol square to teach yoga, my ride was enhanced when this classic began to play on the internal jukebox:

If I leave here tomorrow
Would you still remember me?
For I must be traveling on now
'Cause there's too many places I've got to see.

But if I stayed here with you, girl,
Things just couldn't be the same.
'Cause I'm as free as a bird now,
And this bird you can not change, oh, oh, oh, oh.
And this bird you can not change.
And this bird you can not change.
Lord knows I can't change.

Looking at the lyrics, it's a wonder that this wasn't an anthem I sang after the New Englander spread his wings and fled the Midwest. Maybe the reason I didn't is that for so long, I wanted to believe that I could change that bird, or that he could change, or that somehow, someway, it would make sense for him to fly on back to me.

I think now, finally, that I can be at peace with his message:

Bye, bye, baby, it's been a sweet love, yeah,
Though this feeling I can't change.
But please don't take it so badly,
'Cause Lord knows I'm to blame.

But if I stayed here with you, girl,
Things just couldn't be the same.
'Cause I'm as free as a bird now,
And this bird you'll never change, oh, oh, oh, oh.
And this bird you cannot change.
And this bird you cannot change.
Lord knows, I can't change.
Lord, help me, I can't change.

Lord, I can't change.
Won't you fly high, free bird, yeah?

Yes, after a couple of years spent grieving, I do believe I'm ready to fly high again. Today one of my yoga students commented on how much more open I am now -- my heart, my shoulders -- which it felt awesome to have someone outside of my healer peeps recognize.

Why yes I am a much freer bird these days, I felt like saying. Thanks for noticing!

And She Was

Because it's been so dang cold lately, I've been spending more time in my car than on my bike, and that's not a happy thing for me. But in the car, I've been listening to a book on CD, Imagine by Jonah Lehrer. And yesterday the chapter I was listening to was talking about David Byrne and his fanatical devotion to his bicycle. Byrne talked about his experience of cycling everywhere, saying he was more in tune with the city around him on his bike. That he could hear life better.

I couldn't agree more. And so, with the temperatures just barely above zero this morning, I plopped my bad ass on my bike and road to work. As I pedaled, I thought about David Byrne and the Talking Heads, and this was the song that started to play internally:

And she was lying in the grass

And she could hear the highway breathing

And she could see a nearby factory

She's making sure she is not dreaming

See the lights of a neighbor's house

Now she's starting to rise

Take a minute to concentrate

And she opens up her eyes

The world was moving and she was right there with it (and she was)

The world was moving she was floating above it (and she was) and she was

Yes she (er, I) was, this morning, thanks to a little extra motivation from the sunny day and David Byrne:

And she was drifting through the backyard

And she was taking off her dress

And she was moving very slowly

Rising up above the earth

Moving into the universe

Drifting this way and that

Not touching ground at all

Up above the yard

She was glad about it... no doubt about it

She isn't sure where she's gone

No time to think about what to tell them

No time to think about what she's done

And she was

The world was moving and she was right there with it (and she was)

The world was moving she was floating above it (and she was) and she was...