tales of a wayward yogini

In search of…

This week I will walk through the doors of Sutter Health in Auburn for a meet and greet of sorts with my (possibly) new gynecologist. This is not an exam, just an appointment to meet the doctor. You see, my ob-gyn, Dr. Jordan Horowitz, retired last month, and I have the task of finding a new doctor who will need to fill some pretty big shoes. I met Jordan when I was close to 30. And I mean no disrespect when I refer to him in this blog as Jordan, instead of Dr. Horowitz. It’s the only name I ever
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A follow up on the women

A follow up seems warranted to my last post, a weekend for the women. First, I just want to thank again all of the people who sent their comments and likes, and for those who know me on a personal level, their texts and emails. I was overwhelmed and so appreciative of the response. It only confirmed something I already believe—that there is such a light in the world even amidst all of the disturbing news day in and day out. The topics were universal, death, loss of loved ones, illness, healing, moving forward, who can’t relate? And while the
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An important weekend for the women…

This weekend seemed to center around women, not necessarily by design, but due to the circumstances occurring around me. My boss scheduled our holiday celebration on Saturday night, a great idea after letting the hustle and bustle of the season fade. We were initially scheduled for a dinner party at Spin down in the financial district of San Francisco. At the last minute, there was a double booking, so we switched from ping pong to bowling. Rick and I decided to splurge a bit and book ourselves for two nights at the Marriott Marquis right in the heart of the
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Release, part two

This post seems to be a follow up to my last post entitled “Release.” Probably no coincidence, the ideas presented themselves to me yesterday morning in my second visit to the restorative yoga class on Monday mornings at The Healing Shala in Cool. Last week with Christmas was far too busy to attend, but yesterday I decided it would be a great way to close out the year. We spent the weekend in our yard preparing our plants and trees for the winter ahead. We pruned and raked I believe what must have been a million leaves, and my favorite, burned
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Release

After spending a wonderful weekend with our friends, Janet and Lalo, I bid them farewell yesterday morning with gratitude in my heart for the blessing of having friends like them. I’ve always been a crier at the end of anything that I’ve particularly enjoyed, relationships, visits, vacations, jobs, etc. The end of their visit was no exception. My throat closed, and my eyes welled with tears as I stood on our driveway waving goodbye. I was reminded once again that we can’t hold on to life too tightly. We must let go over and over again and trust in tomorrow.
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The passage of time

The passage of time can be a blessing, or it can be a curse. In most cases, it depends on my point of view. I can make an argument for almost any position. But as the years pass me by, perhaps because I no longer harbor the confidence of my youth thinking life is everlasting, I find the passage of time, my friend. I have learned a patience I did not possess in my younger days. It’s not that I don’t still manage to make my way to impatience, but it’s easier to let go of the older I become.  An unpleasant
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What’s Really Important—Part Two

Last year about this time, I wrote a post entitled “What’s Really Important.” That post has been repurposed in my upcoming book “Lessons of a Wayward Yogini,” due out this spring? I’ve been known to run a bit late in life. My next post will address my book delay, but for now, I will rope in my ADD and stick to what’s important! This post is What’s Important—Part Two, with new lessons learned. (I’m feeling a bit dizzy from the circles I’m spinning here.) A year ago I came home to a smoke plume close to the house which looked awful
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Apricot jam

Once a year if I’m lucky I settle down long enough to make apricot jam… not just any apricot jam, but my Julie’s jam. Losing our loved ones is probably one of the hardest lessons we have on earth. And while time has healed my broken heart enough to carry on, I can on any given day cry thinking of my dear friend. I wouldn’t even venture to change that. My way of thinking, tears are merely a measure of how much I enjoyed my friend. They come with the territory.Julie made pretty much the best apricot jam around. And
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