. . . and I have come a mighty long way.

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For years, we lived in Prague. Now we're back on US soil. I spoke Czech and some Italian on the daily. Before that, years before that, all French. I know the names of all the yoga poses in Sanskrit, Now, I dabble on babbel, google translate is my go-to, my love language is words of affirmation. Speak your truth, says the desiderata, calmly and clearly. My truth is, I mean, I like Starbucks and giant grocery stores and satellite radio but the life of an ex-ex-pat leaves me longing for more.

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In Prague, my writing nook looked out over the bohemian countryside. To the east, a church spire. To the west, a crumbling chateau inhabited by a mute and his invalid wife. I am not making this up. I bathed in foreign languages, soaked them up through my skin. On the weekends, we'd hop on flights to Dublin, London, Paris, Barcelona. Horizons expanded, friendships grew, and dreams had a chance to blossom.

 

My guideposts for raising my kids are simple and strong:  Be wise, be kind, be true. They're older now and finding their ways to move through the world. Living abroad internalized in them an understanding and connection that would have been hard to foster any other way. For all of us, culture shock and its reverse honed and refined our sense of self and our definition of home. ( Read more on that theme here.) My constant challenge now is to meld all the sides of myself --teacher, mother, poet-- as I search for capital-S Self.  

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As a Registered Yoga Teacher, I teach in a variety of settings. I offer workshops on Yoga for Creative Types. I go to the mat to nurture strength of spirit and I go to the page to squint at life through a poetic lens. Some days it's blurrier than others.  

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