screenporch

I live in Watkinsville, Ga. I'm a writer and aerial dancer, but mostly relish time on my porch with kyle and cats. Also, we are in a band (kyle and i, not the cats) called Maps and Transit (link below)-- our album, Songs for Divining, is here, thanks to the lovely Vince Fugère at Camomille Records. (You can download it cheap as free.)

Also here's a blog about my kitten

My latest adventure

kyle
Maps and Transit
Canopy Studio
Inhabitat
athens music and arts
Mar 28
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The outside flowers are ducking in from the freezing eves and staying warm in the yoga room. I love waking up to their cheery blooms in the morning.

The outside flowers are ducking in from the freezing eves and staying warm in the yoga room. I love waking up to their cheery blooms in the morning.

Feb 02
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bodyrolling:

We’ll be going this afternoon to a memorial service at the 40 Watt for our friend, Craig Lieske, who died a couple of weeks ago. Kyle and I have spent the morning and a good bit of last evening reminiscing about him. And I record it here, especially, because I keep thinking how Craig achieved something many yogis take a lifetime working toward — true kindness and compassion for everyone. He was just real. And he lived a totally non-yogic lifestyle, drinking, smoking — unhealthy food, I’m sure (he was on the road a bunch as the merch guy for Drive-By Truckers, though as Patterson notes, he was so much more). 
A long chain of remembrances tell how truly he engaged with people — one woman in Texas said she met him at a DBT show, and two years later, when she saw him as the Truckers passed through town again, he not only remembered her, he asked her how her daughter was, by name. An Athens musician recounts his own days as a young punk and how Craig — who then was managing the 40 Watt — came up to his band after their show (during which he’d had to come on stage and help them) with a big grin and said “You guys are idiots.”
That’s exactly how I remember him — he said things without judgment. It was like he just observed rather than getting involved — as the yogis would say, he was unattached. Patterson wrote how he doesn’t remember Craig ever getting on anyone’s nerves, or vice verse, in all their long, grueling days of touring together — 11 people on a bus.
I never felt like I knew Craig as well as he seemed to greet me — as though we were old friends. I was just another face coming and going at the 40 Watt. But he’d always, always ask how I was doing with a genuineness that went beyond normal interactions like that. I was so sad for him when his wife, my friend Janet Bond, died. I went to see Janet in the hospital days before she died, wracked with cancer. No one should have to live like that, I thought. I’m just remembering as I type this that a day or so later I dedicated my yoga practice to her when Vajra was teaching a morning class at Canopy. Janet died that day. But I remember Craig taking it pretty stoically. He hated to see her suffering, and even thought the morphine was making it worse; he was pretty sure she’d gone blind at the end from the drugs. 
Even in all that sadness, though, he was strikingly resilient.
And reading through the words of so many people, it’s clear others saw this in him, too — though even more striking, each recounts, is how gracefully he connected with everyone he met. He made us all feel special.
From the yogic perspective, it would be said that the God within Craig saw and connected with the God within us all. Granted, I say that thinking he’d probably exhale a drag from his cigarette, laughing good naturedly at me. But as I’ve been thinking about him, I keep imagining that in a past life, Craig was some deeply rooted yogi in a cave who achieved all kinds of goodness in his renunciation — enough that when he circled back through human form, he got to settle into a life where he just enjoyed to its fullest every earthly pleasure — music, drinking, smoking, laughing, partying, and most of all (well, second to music, probably) people. 
I’m sad for all of us that Craig is gone. And I feel a little cheated, honestly, because he’s someone who could’ve bestowed his goodness on people for so many years to come. I can imagine him in his 80s sitting back enjoying music with friends and family around him, each one absorbed in the realness of his presence.
But for Craig, I’m not sad. I think he’s just chillin’ with the many other beautiful souls in his midst and making a whole slew of new friends — or maybe just reconnecting with old. 
Throughout the many remembrances out there, another thing people noted was how we should all be more like Craig.
What a huge tribute that is.
Craig followed his bliss all the way. He was a breath of fresh air — and as the yogis would say, a light. To honor his life best, yes, I hope we all will be more like Craig.
His light continues to shine.
Thank you, Craig. 

bodyrolling:

We’ll be going this afternoon to a memorial service at the 40 Watt for our friend, Craig Lieske, who died a couple of weeks ago. Kyle and I have spent the morning and a good bit of last evening reminiscing about him. And I record it here, especially, because I keep thinking how Craig achieved something many yogis take a lifetime working toward — true kindness and compassion for everyone. He was just real. And he lived a totally non-yogic lifestyle, drinking, smoking — unhealthy food, I’m sure (he was on the road a bunch as the merch guy for Drive-By Truckers, though as Patterson notes, he was so much more). 

A long chain of remembrances tell how truly he engaged with people — one woman in Texas said she met him at a DBT show, and two years later, when she saw him as the Truckers passed through town again, he not only remembered her, he asked her how her daughter was, by name. An Athens musician recounts his own days as a young punk and how Craig — who then was managing the 40 Watt — came up to his band after their show (during which he’d had to come on stage and help them) with a big grin and said “You guys are idiots.”

That’s exactly how I remember him — he said things without judgment. It was like he just observed rather than getting involved — as the yogis would say, he was unattached. Patterson wrote how he doesn’t remember Craig ever getting on anyone’s nerves, or vice verse, in all their long, grueling days of touring together — 11 people on a bus.

I never felt like I knew Craig as well as he seemed to greet me — as though we were old friends. I was just another face coming and going at the 40 Watt. But he’d always, always ask how I was doing with a genuineness that went beyond normal interactions like that. I was so sad for him when his wife, my friend Janet Bond, died. I went to see Janet in the hospital days before she died, wracked with cancer. No one should have to live like that, I thought. I’m just remembering as I type this that a day or so later I dedicated my yoga practice to her when Vajra was teaching a morning class at Canopy. Janet died that day. But I remember Craig taking it pretty stoically. He hated to see her suffering, and even thought the morphine was making it worse; he was pretty sure she’d gone blind at the end from the drugs. 

Even in all that sadness, though, he was strikingly resilient.

And reading through the words of so many people, it’s clear others saw this in him, too — though even more striking, each recounts, is how gracefully he connected with everyone he met. He made us all feel special.

From the yogic perspective, it would be said that the God within Craig saw and connected with the God within us all. Granted, I say that thinking he’d probably exhale a drag from his cigarette, laughing good naturedly at me. But as I’ve been thinking about him, I keep imagining that in a past life, Craig was some deeply rooted yogi in a cave who achieved all kinds of goodness in his renunciation — enough that when he circled back through human form, he got to settle into a life where he just enjoyed to its fullest every earthly pleasure — music, drinking, smoking, laughing, partying, and most of all (well, second to music, probably) people. 

I’m sad for all of us that Craig is gone. And I feel a little cheated, honestly, because he’s someone who could’ve bestowed his goodness on people for so many years to come. I can imagine him in his 80s sitting back enjoying music with friends and family around him, each one absorbed in the realness of his presence.

But for Craig, I’m not sad. I think he’s just chillin’ with the many other beautiful souls in his midst and making a whole slew of new friends — or maybe just reconnecting with old. 

Throughout the many remembrances out there, another thing people noted was how we should all be more like Craig.

What a huge tribute that is.

Craig followed his bliss all the way. He was a breath of fresh air — and as the yogis would say, a light. To honor his life best, yes, I hope we all will be more like Craig.

His light continues to shine.

Thank you, Craig. 

Oct 18
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Pretzel’s helping me study yoga. He’s a tiny yogi, I’m pretty sure.

Pretzel’s helping me study yoga. He’s a tiny yogi, I’m pretty sure.

Sep 30
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Sunday  (Taken with Instagram)

Sunday (Taken with Instagram)

Jun 29
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Mar 17
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It was the perfect day for it (Taken with instagram)

It was the perfect day for it (Taken with instagram)

Mar 04
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Morning has a sanctity to it. And not to quantify, but especially sunny ones. The way the sky has that new shade of blue, and the way the sun infuses the world with freshness. Even when we roll back over to close our eyes for a few more sweet moments of sleep, morning feels good inside our bodies.
And then there are the morning sounds. So many birds the air is literally filled with song. Just try to find a beat of silence. How do we so often miss it? And here, roosters crow from two directions toward our house. I love that reminder that even though it feels like we’re in the suburbs, ours is a suburb of the country. People here carry on small connections to their rural past. Parking extra cars in the yard, for instance. I find it all somehow sweet. Maybe just because it’s home.
Six months out from leaving the 40-hours-behind-a-desk work week, and I’m still flailing in finding my daily rhythm, but loving the freedom it allows. Oh the mornings I yearned to be able to sit — just sit — and take this all in. 
The tall pines across the street are blowing in the wind now and the way they move together looks like a dance. It fills me. 
We are so mired in baggage and issues and anger and self-righteousness and politics, all the things that take us away from this beauty, this kingdom of heaven, as Joseph Campbell says, that is at all times within our reach, though we do not see it.
I will try to take these glimpses with me and remember, when human-created baggage arises, that this peace surpasses it all.

Morning has a sanctity to it. And not to quantify, but especially sunny ones. The way the sky has that new shade of blue, and the way the sun infuses the world with freshness. Even when we roll back over to close our eyes for a few more sweet moments of sleep, morning feels good inside our bodies.

And then there are the morning sounds. So many birds the air is literally filled with song. Just try to find a beat of silence. How do we so often miss it? And here, roosters crow from two directions toward our house. I love that reminder that even though it feels like we’re in the suburbs, ours is a suburb of the country. People here carry on small connections to their rural past. Parking extra cars in the yard, for instance. I find it all somehow sweet. Maybe just because it’s home.

Six months out from leaving the 40-hours-behind-a-desk work week, and I’m still flailing in finding my daily rhythm, but loving the freedom it allows. Oh the mornings I yearned to be able to sit — just sit — and take this all in. 

The tall pines across the street are blowing in the wind now and the way they move together looks like a dance. It fills me. 

We are so mired in baggage and issues and anger and self-righteousness and politics, all the things that take us away from this beauty, this kingdom of heaven, as Joseph Campbell says, that is at all times within our reach, though we do not see it.

I will try to take these glimpses with me and remember, when human-created baggage arises, that this peace surpasses it all.

Jan 17
Permalink
shorterexcerpts:

lickypickystickyfree:

Happy birthday, Michelle!
“There’s something about her that projects such honesty and strength.  It’s what makes her such an unbelievable professional, and partner, and  mother, and wife.”—President Obama.

Also: this photo is fucking great.

shorterexcerpts:

lickypickystickyfree:

Happy birthday, Michelle!

“There’s something about her that projects such honesty and strength. It’s what makes her such an unbelievable professional, and partner, and mother, and wife.”—President Obama.

Also: this photo is fucking great.

(Source: lickystickypickyshe)

Nov 29
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Oh sweet belly rubs, look at that foot! Beeker is an orange, fluffy delight.

Oh sweet belly rubs, look at that foot! Beeker is an orange, fluffy delight.

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Pretzel gets the vast majority of posts (well, he has his own blog), but Beeker can pull out just as much cute, as he did this morning, snoozing next to me on my robe on the bed. Difference between Pretzel and Beeker, Beeker will CUT YOU. So be careful with those belly rubs. Any hands in his reach are an invitation to spar!

Pretzel gets the vast majority of posts (well, he has his own blog), but Beeker can pull out just as much cute, as he did this morning, snoozing next to me on my robe on the bed. Difference between Pretzel and Beeker, Beeker will CUT YOU. So be careful with those belly rubs. Any hands in his reach are an invitation to spar!

Nov 28
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flannelowl:

theinformedvegan:

Is Meat Worth It?

I think this message alone is somewhat ineffective on meat eaters. I remember back before I was vegan or knew much about the environment, I always felt a sense of fatalistic apathy towards facts like this. It’s like, oh well, what are we going to do?
When they see that “70% of the Amazon has been destroyed to produce meat,” a lot of people don’t make the connection that they could do something about it if they just stopped eating that meat.
People think that it’s normal, that they have to, that it’s essential to good health. That’s what their culture tells them constantly, to hide the facts that meat is bad for us and that there’s nothing normal or natural about the abomination we call our meat production system. So they see something like this and just say “Oh well….”
But you can do something. Right now. Just stop eating meat. That’s it, just stop.
You can do it. You’ll discover plenty of delicious foods you never would have tried otherwise, and as long as you eat a variety of foods you’ll be much healthier. Not only that, but you’ll be doing your part to ensure the deforestation of the Amazon doesn’t keep progressing, and that countless animals don’t keep suffering and dying needlessly.
It’s really simple. The power is in your hands, and in your stomach. Just stop.
Please.

flannelowl:

theinformedvegan:

Is Meat Worth It?

I think this message alone is somewhat ineffective on meat eaters. I remember back before I was vegan or knew much about the environment, I always felt a sense of fatalistic apathy towards facts like this. It’s like, oh well, what are we going to do?

When they see that “70% of the Amazon has been destroyed to produce meat,” a lot of people don’t make the connection that they could do something about it if they just stopped eating that meat.

People think that it’s normal, that they have to, that it’s essential to good health. That’s what their culture tells them constantly, to hide the facts that meat is bad for us and that there’s nothing normal or natural about the abomination we call our meat production system. So they see something like this and just say “Oh well….”

But you can do something. Right now. Just stop eating meat. That’s it, just stop.

You can do it. You’ll discover plenty of delicious foods you never would have tried otherwise, and as long as you eat a variety of foods you’ll be much healthier. Not only that, but you’ll be doing your part to ensure the deforestation of the Amazon doesn’t keep progressing, and that countless animals don’t keep suffering and dying needlessly.

It’s really simple. The power is in your hands, and in your stomach. Just stop.

Please.

(Source: theinformedvegan)

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I’m reblogging this from my bodyrolling tumblr — P giving me a goodbye kiss before I headed to NYC this summer for my training. I missed him so much and am happy I get to spend more time with him now. Here’s the blog entry:

things I miss: Pretzel, my kitten (well, he’s over a year old now). Here he is literally licking my lips with a kiss the day I left. I am due some serious snuggle time when I return. 
If you feel the need to see about a year’s worth of photos of him, they are here. (Yes, he has his own blog. Judge if you must.)
More things I miss here, here, here,
And most of all here.

I’m reblogging this from my bodyrolling tumblr — P giving me a goodbye kiss before I headed to NYC this summer for my training. I missed him so much and am happy I get to spend more time with him now. Here’s the blog entry:

things I miss: Pretzel, my kitten (well, he’s over a year old now). Here he is literally licking my lips with a kiss the day I left. I am due some serious snuggle time when I return. 

If you feel the need to see about a year’s worth of photos of him, they are here. (Yes, he has his own blog. Judge if you must.)

More things I miss here, here, here,

And most of all here.

Sep 25
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Garden Buddha #goldenhour watkinsville, ga. 6 pm 9/25 (Taken with instagram)

Garden Buddha #goldenhour watkinsville, ga. 6 pm 9/25 (Taken with instagram)

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Another nap with Lil P. We’re professionals, just so you know (Taken with instagram)

Another nap with Lil P. We’re professionals, just so you know (Taken with instagram)

Sep 14
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My little round friends (Taken with instagram)

My little round friends (Taken with instagram)