Swaying charred boards hanging from rusty cables……remnants of the historic Dewey Bridge. In an instant the curiosity of a child and a spark of fire set into motion the metamorphosis of a desert icon from “permanent” fixture to a wisp of what was, reminding us that the only thing constant is change. The desert landscape has a way of inviting us into conversation with her about the transformation and exchange of energy.

Further down the road a Great Blue Heron rests for a moment, preening, on an exposed tongue of sand, jutting from the bank of the Colorado River. A tongue of sand that will eventually shape shift as the spring progresses into a mass of swirling particles which may or may not reconnect on down the river. The heron seems unconcerned that its current perch will most likely be washed away as the spring melt ensues. A puff of dingy foam floats past, another momentary fixture in this river ecosystem reminding me to bring my sights to the road ahead. I pick up speed, shift into fourth gear and wind on down River
Road towards my retreat in the desert.

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Brown’s Hole has the familiar comfort of an Appalachian Mountain “hollar”, yet at the same time evokes the powerful rawness that only the desert can. Coming from the mountains of North Carolina and now deeply in love with the desert, I am content in the artful blend of past and present that this little piece of land just south of Moab brings me.

My friend purchased acreage in Brown’s Hole a few years back which now provides many fortunate friends willing to swing an axe or dig a hole for a few hours a retreat spot or even a place to live if your willingness extends beyond a few hours. For me it’s a place to be reminded of a simpler, more sustainable way of life……..and all the hard work and devotion it takes to create it. It also affirms my communal nature, an evolving piece of myself that I gravitate towards more and more with each passing day. Here a very small group of people live and create community through an off-the-grid self sustaining lifestyle-food is grown on site and cooked in a wood fired stove, electricity is collected from the energies of the sun and water, small abodes are built from the immediate earth and local hay and vehicles are run off recycled grease.

I arrive in the late afternoon after a peaceful desert drive excited by the sounds of the Polyphonic Spree. Immediately I launch into helping plant fruit trees which are being delicately grafted onto root stock and then it’s on to digging a fresh bed in the garden and planting asparagus. I enjoy chatting with friends, my hands sifting through the freshly churned earth. Springtime in the desert is always sacred, but somehow knowing that my energy is a combined effort with those around me to create sustenance in a land that asks for so much trust and devotion in order to provide bounty brings an even more sacred nature to the experience.

As a yogini making a career out of being a yogini, my mind often wanders into the dichotomy of how can I live a life this connected to the earth and still follow my passion of teaching yoga as a way of earning a living. And how can I live this kind of life and still have my internet connection. Well, really that’s just a matter of $150 a month and satellite internet. I suppose that’s the easy part.

The following day is spent mostly getting sunburned and trading philosophies with a girlfriend while the freshly grafted fruit trees bask nearby in a constant cooling mist from the sprinkler system. After awhile I wander up the dirt road with The Hound and up the hill for some time spent on a rock pondering my yogini conundrum. I keep thinking back to the Dewey Bridge and the heron on its momentary sandbar watching the puff of foam float by. Then I drift off into a light sleep next to a purple flower. I wake a bit later to the conversation below between a rooster and a hen on an property adjoining my friend’s. I see my friends on the roof of the straw bale peanut shaped community house tacking on new metal sheeting for the roof and off in the distance on another property a hammer is swung over and over reverberating it’s song off the short cliff walls that cradle Brown’s Hole. Brown’s Hole has always seemed so vast to me, but from here it looks so small as my eyes regain full focus and are able to discern the miles of red rock canyon land off in the distance. I remember again the bridge, the heron, the foam and reconnect with the knowledge that the only thing constant is change and that in the big picture the current assumptions I am working off probably have only a fraction of relevance. So perhaps I don’t have the answer about finding my midline between the continued development of myself as a yoga teacher and living more sustainably in the vision that I currently have. That’s what moving toward the unknown is……it’s about not having answers laid before us, trusting that we live in perfect chaos and having compassion and love for all the processes that take us to the next moment of our amorphous realities. Tomorrow the bridge may not be here and the foam will have blended itself back into the bigger collective of the river’s currents.

I can only make choices for my present moment. My present moment finds me happily situated before my internet connection before I take off to teach my next yoga class in a community that I adore.

I would like for a moment to express HUGE GRATITUDE to my dear friend and awesomely talented photographer Shawn Reeder. The header photo and the photo on the Yoga Page are just two examples of his graceful way of forever preserving a moment of time and space. These are images from two different mornings of chilly sunrise shooting in the beautiful Buttermilks beneath the base of the Eastern Sierras just outside Bishop, California, where Shawn continues to draw his inspiration for his art. I offer him deep gratitude for allowing me the use of these images and for the joyful way that he continues to offer his pieces of inspiration, leaving the viewer suspended for a moment in Divinity.

Shawn also writes, records and produces music for artists to use on their websites. If you would like to see more of Shawn’s art, hire him to photograph your wedding, hear his musical compositions, or read interesting bits in his blog, you can find him here.

I’m pretty sure there is still ice from early December crusted on my street in front of my house. Those first few December molecules of frozen 2H’s and an O almost were released back into the atmospheric cycles with a couple of recent warm days, but it has quickly returned to cold and snow, so for the meantime, they remain encapsulated in their landlocked positions, dormant until the next rays of sunshine bring them potential for movement. I’m not complaining. I know all the precipitation is good for our water table. But really, it has so far been an exceptionally cold, cold winter here in the Grand Valley.  So any way to create warmth in our hearts, bodies and souls is a blessing that nourishes us until warmer days come our way.                                                        This brings me to Chai! I have had many requests for my “recipe” for homemade chai. But I don’t really use a recipe.  I just throw spices in a pot according to what intuitively sounds good (because for me no two batches of chai are the same). However, a nice midline from which to base all your other chai creations on can be helpful, so here is that midline from which you can start, but please, please go outside the lines! Explore and let your chai become a creative expression for you based on your mood or the season (ie. in the summer I use less ginger and pepper and more anise) It’s fun. Dance with it! 

Shakti Rising Chai     

•  2 oz star anise
• 1/8 c. fennel seeds
• 2-3 cinnamon sticks
• 20 whole cloves
• 12-15 cardamom pods 
• 6-8 thick (1/4″) slices ginger
• 1/8 c. black peppercorns
• small shaving off a nutmeg
• 8-10 allspice
• 1/4 c. coriander seeds
• 6-7 black or green tea bags
• 8 cups water (you may need to add more as tea boils)
• sweetener (agave, maple syrup, honey) to taste
• soy or regular milk to taste                                                                                                      

 Put all spices and water into a pot with water. Bring to a boil. Turn to medium heat and simmer for 30-40 minutes (add more water as needed). Turn off heat and let steep for 1-3 hours. Bring to a boil again and then turn off heat. Add tea bags for about 5 minutes. Remove tea bags and strain out spices. Add sweetner to taste. I usually just put the tea in a container in the fridge and when I want a cup I heat it up and whisk in some soymilk. This way it stays fresh longer.     

About the Header Picture:
Then………..Early Eastern Sierra morning with a setting moon and a rising sun……both hanging luminously in the sky, meeting for a moment in the gap, the pause between the breath, the place of Divinity. Our arms outstretched towards the advent of a new breath, a new day, a new experience.

Now………First snowfall for the Grand Valley outside my window…..the view brings a cozy comfort to my place in an overstuffed chair at the kitchen table, a place created by the inspiration brought by an Eastern Sierra Muse with big blue eyes and an even bigger heart.

Muse,

You handed me the keys to your studio and a confidence I did not yet have in myself. Your open heart advanced my steps towards the embrace of Shakti dancing in my own life by letting her dance so freely through yours. I am eternally grateful to you, muse, as a teacher, a friend and a catalyst for growth. A lesson on both the permanence and impermanence of connection helps me step more fully into experiencing the pulsation of this life, this universe. You are held in a place of honor in the altar of my heart.

Namaste