What's In A Mat? A Lesson in Aparigraha
My legs shook. My arms wobbled. I feared that my face was red as a siren. I hadn’t expected sweat. I hadn’t expected all this effort. But there it was, and then there I was in Savasana at last, with my eyes closed, my heartbeat slowing and my body still and cooling. I feel as calm as a dead person, I thought, and right then, the teacher spoke.
“Savasana,” she said. “Corpse pose.”
The Roar of Life (Meditation at a Korean Day Spa)
I’ve come to the Korean bathhouse to die.
What Luck
In my memory I’m standing outside the hospital with my father-in-law and his wife, and I’m smoking a cigarette. But my memory lies. I haven’t smoked in ten years, and that night, when the bark came through the baby monitor, and the paramedics broke down the front door, and my life cracked open easy as an egg, I wouldn’t have smoked even if I wanted to; I was eight months pregnant with my third child.
You Can't Quit Motherhood: On Privilege, Motherhood, and Effort
A few years and a third child later, with beautiful days, crises, hospital stays, milestones, stomach bugs, and moves behind me, and I can see what my parents unknowingly taught me when they gave me an easy childhood – that effort was unbecoming. Effort was embarrassing.
The Day I Learned to Accept My Son's Rare Kidney Disease
When Food Is Medicine
