Sunday, May 19, 2002


all this year's been strange weather -- hot when it should be cold, cold when it should be warm, autumn instead of spring, summer instead of april showers. . .

and after a while it gets you in a kerfuffle, if you know what i mean. for example, today it was brilliantly sunny, and yet completely october. i was so cold in the house i had to take a hot shower to warm up and mr. right actually turned on the oven! walking through this weirdness made my whole body contract with chill on the way to my usual evening yoga class. needless to say, i could scarcely move once i got there. i felt like the tin man, in serious need of oil! perhaps it's just my pitta constitution, but give me heat, lots of heat. . .

accepting the minor inconsistencies in your yoga practice is the hardest thing to do. i could hardly keep my mind on my breathing. i kept saying to myself, "why can't i do this easy posture the way i usually do? damn this weather! why is my head so far from my feet in tarasana, when usually i can just melt my forehead into my soles?" this is exactly the mental challenge yoga presents, and the only way to solve it is to accept that every day, every asana is new. only your breath is thread that leads you through. . .

yesterday the weather was even colder and grayer. i couldn't even bear to go outside at first; i got up, made coffee, made some pizza dough -- long-time readers know that saturday is pizza day around here -- and then had to dash to the lower east side to have my hair done. where i learned that my long-time coiffeuse is returning to california, to buy a house in santa cruz. of course i was happy for her; she's been homesick for more than a year.

but at the same time, after i left, i suddenly felt so sad, so teary. and suddenly i realized: this is the after-effect of 9-11. i had walked around the corner past vlada and into mary adams, where i saw a beautiful basil green dress printed in the subtle tones of italian handmade paper. suddenly i remembered i needed basil for my pizza, and so i ran down the street to the essex market, a funky public market with lots of little stalls for fishmongers, butchers, greengrocers, botanica, a tiny spanish grocey selling goya everything. . .

and there i found the most beautiful bunch of basil. . . the smell just made me smile and turned my day around. . .basil, fresh, lively, vigorous, full of spring's hope.

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