Breathing fast and slow

Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. It is said that when Robert Frost sat down to write what has been called by some his most perfect poem Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening , he did so in one inspired push. Frost would likely have said he was merely following delight. But he had the good sense to stay in his chair as delight took form, and surprise followed surprise, until at last he had on the page in front of him something resembling wisdom. Frost says as much in his essay The Figure a Poem Makes , in which the venerable poet attempts to describe the process involved in writing a poem. It could also be described as the process of getting out of the way of the poem that wants to be written.  As any good crafts person or artist or parent will tell you, the process involved in bringing anything into being--whether it be a poem, a painting, a piece of furniture, or a chi

Sometimes, when life interferes and I am prevented from practicing yoga as much as I would like to, I have to remind myself: This is why there are eight limbs on this path. Balance, as it turns out, is about more than the practice of postures. In yoga, the creation of a balanced life-- Artha --is one of life's primary aims. I recently went with my family to the Eastern Sierras for a backpacking trip. We hiked with a group of friends out of Lake Sabrina, which is located approximately 14 miles from highway 395 off Main Street in downtown Bishop. It was a great trip. My youngest daughter caught her first fish--a very small trout that was thrown back into the lake. Catch-and-release, another first for my daughter. Joining us on our trek was our nine-month-old puppy, a Chihuahua-Jack Russell mix we adopted from our local shelter at the end of March. Señor Chico, the runt of the litter, mind you, completed a 10-mile round trip hike and camped out like a seasoned vet (no pun intended)