we are in the midst of a storm. and i am finding peace piece.


in dance class this morning i took a step forward. there is a struggle in my spirit often when i dance. open close open close goes my willingness and ability to try something new, to be vulnerable to the mirror and other eyes. to expose my inexperience, to be often ungraceful as i learn. but when i can let my insides shift again to open, and stick to the process, and try again and try again the steps without resting in between, i find energy to move and finally, my feet and arms find their way a little more.


it thundered through our cool down. i like the quiet space each person finds to stretch their own hips, the sound of rain on the sky lights, the soft light, and bill evans' piano fingers.


now i sit here listening to more rain. the house is quiet too, and the space has changed. jyoti moved out yesterday and i find myself content in the solitude. i remember knowing this for the first time, one day on a mountain in italy, that i needed to live in this space alone. its more than contentment, it is necessary for my spirit in this season. i marvel at the timing of things, and the sensational newness of finding myself in different places. places of growing up, of growing into, of settling. and so i will paint and sand some more, and play my piano late at night and early in the morning. there is chicken baking, smelling of season salt and grandma and i'm so grateful for a full day of rest.




something is stirring and i find myself realizing again and again that there are more years left. 30 coming in one more month, and a thank you rises in me. i buy some strappy shoes and realize they are not only for the wedding in november, but for the me i will become after winter. i can wear these at 32, at 35, at 40. it's strange, but i know now that i was blind to future before. blind to time beyond one year. blocked to the hope of long term and getting better with age. but there is an older me that i hear whispering sometimes and she has much to say. she knows my children, my husband, my body as it ages and evolves. she is wise and calm, and she comforts me when i cannot see beyond the moment.


if she was in dance class this morning, she would have been proud of the trying again, of the imperfection. she would have said, keep coming back. persue your dreams, they are possible, they are not so far away.


and i am holding a memory of a poem my high school english teacher wrote for me. it was a piece of peace. a clash of a fist on the keys on the piano. anger. a struggle. and a final clear tone. peace.


as i hugged my knees to my chest at the end of class, dripping sweat on my favorite new pants, i sunk into myself and breathed deeply into the sound of those fingers walking on the piano keys. bill evans.


what was the name of that piano track? i asked the teacher.



peace piece.