Back in my days of traveling solo, I used to fancy myself a sort of lone wolf. A wandering, independent woman who enjoyed her own company and didn’t mind if people came and went, simply passing through until the next adventure. The idea of finding and settling into a community was not in the forefront of my mind back then, but it has been emerging more prominently in recent years.Read More
A couple of weeks ago, along with starting up my regular contemporary dance classes for teens and adults at the conservatory in Tangier, it fell upon me to substitute two ballet classes for 5 and 6 year olds, just for that first week. If you know me well, you will know that this is not my thing- not even a little bit. It is not that I dislike kids, of course, but trying to control a large classroom full of them is simply not my forte. However, I am quite loyal to the conservatory since they provided me with my first job when I moved here and they needed these classes taken care of, so I figured I could grin, bear it, and make the most of the experience.Read More
It is pretty amazing how sometimes when I am walking around the streets of Tangier, I’ll pass by a freshly washed store-stoop and the smell of that particular cleaning detergent all of a sudden sweeps me back to the basement of a friend’s home in Minneapolis where we used to play with American Girl dolls all afternoon. The smallest scents, sights and sounds have the ability to send me time-traveling and hit with a wave of homesickness.Read More
For the past week, as an addition to my early morning routine, I have been reading several pages of poetry while I sip on my ritual lemon & honey. I started with the serene and sparkling Mary Oliver, moved on to ecstatic and devoted Rumi, and now I am just beginning a book of powerful work by Naomi Shihab Nye. There is something I love about easing into the day with simple, thoughtfully chosen words.Read More
We all have patterns in our lives that we would prefer to reorder- habits we strive to break. Sometimes, however, these patterns seem inevitable and out of our own control. One that I have dealt with practically since the first time I ever traveled away from home (summer camp circa 2010), is the oh-so-melancholy coming-home crash. If this is something you have ever experienced, you will know exactly to what I am referring.Read More
I did not exactly plan to be absent from this space for as long as I have been, but trying to wrap my brain and words around the various experiences of these past three weeks has been next to impossible while still basking in the glow of it all.
-One week of dance in France.
-One week of exploration in Montreal.
-Completing the first week of intensive yoga teacher training at home in Minneapolis.
How does one take it all in?Read More
Living in a foreign country often involves picking up certain new habits and customs, nestling them into your daily life. Upon moving to Morocco, the first word I learned in Arabic was Salaam aalikoum.
I have always been one of those people who automatically runs by the motto save the best for last. As a child I would meticulously figure out which bite of dinner was the most delicious and eat my way around it so that the last flavor in my mouth could linger and be savored even once the meal was through. I remember calculating in a split second the best ratio of frosting to cake or cheese-to-sauce-to-crust and making sure the last morsel on my plate fit that equation. Best for last perhaps has its satisfactory benefits, but at the same time it can be a bit exhausting to get so precious about the little things.Read More
Since learning to write poetry at a young age, I have fallen in love with the beauty of words. The satisfaction of certain sounds merging in humming perfection and meaning something that possibly has the power to effect emotional change. However, while I will always have that love and curiosity about the way letters can come together, something happens to it when you move to a foreign country and all at once find that your beautiful words fail you.Read More