(This essay was written on September 9th in Mill Valley, CA during the fires).
This morning, for the first time in my life, the sun didn’t come out. It’s almost noon and it still is dark as night. The smoke from the fires raging all over California combined with the fog have created a red blanket so thick, you’d think we all woke up on Mars. It’s shocking and disorienting. It says to me what I’ve been feeling for weeks now is that the world as we knew it before is no longer and in this time of such intense change, nothing can be taken for granted. Not even the faithful sun. With so much uncertainty, we are on the edge of the unknown at almost every juncture in life. This is not necessarily negative, even though the unknown can cause anxiety. This edge, the place where the known meets the unknown, is the only place where growth happens.
I have a yoga practice that I do almost daily, which is hard for me since I tend to be lazy especially when it comes to physical activity, but I think of it as a metaphor for this edge/growth thing. I like doing the poses on my own because I can take my time with them, and with each one, I find the spot where I feel like I can’t stretch anymore, can’t hold any longer, can’t reach any further, and then I go a tiny bit more. I’m looking for that sweet spot, that place where I know if I apply pressure, my practice will evolve. I…
