Yesterday, I went for a 13-km hike. I roamed the southern hills and located several trails that led me to the river, which I traced between the towns.

My legs are covered in scratches from the raspberry bristles, and I’ve plucked a few wee spiders from my hair. I am careful not to step on the hand-sized slugs - they are bright orange and hard to miss!

Bottle-blue dragonflies, yellow butterflies, and tri-colored beetles show me the path. It’s been storming for days, and I’ve had to scrub mud between my toes and behind my knees.

It’s a glorious feeling to be this wild!

I miss hiking trails in the PNW. They are an element of a home steeped into my soul: the sound of water, the sensation of calm winds, and the ruddy high of plodding up a forest path, my heart full of its lush greenery.

I am very grateful for my location and proximity to such spectacular treats.

I’m filming a seven-class Kundalini series outdoors. Each class will be seven minutes long. I chose invigorating sequences to get the heart going—I love to feel the river in my body.

My idea was to create short sets for those new to Kundalini or those with only ten minutes to fit into their daily practice.

The rain has prevented me from completing this series - hence the day-long hike! I will share them with you when they are ready.

You can see my current videos on my YouTube Channel.

Below are my July yoga schedule and Zoom class links.

I use the same weekly links, so feel free to add them to your digital calendar if you want to join me.

Sending you love, light, and the sounds of the wild….
Seraphina

 

JULY YOGA SCHEDULE
~

KUNDILATES - THURSDAY
7am pst | 10am est | 4pm cet | 5pm trt

KUNDALINI YOGA - SATURDAY
8am pst | 11am est | 5pm cet | 6pm trt

 

Ode to Summer
by Seraphina Dawn

July

We went swimming on weekends. My sister and I peed in the lake so we didn’t have to leave the water. We’d scream at the sky and shuck our swimsuits when it thundered. We dove down to the sandy bottom, looking for sharks. It was just us, bobbing up and down, swimming for the grey reef shark with a rubbery nose. Like Grandpa! We tweaked his nose in the casket and giggled. Mother said SHHHH and then we laughed so hard I peed a little right there. Dad said, oh, Deb, let them laugh while she cried because it was her dad who died. When we got out of the water, our skin was tinged blue, but we licked our lips, looked at our dad, and screamed: ICE CREAM! 

August 

I was nine when the Princess of Wales died, sitting with my mother on the couch. My mother mourned death in her bathroom, not in front of us kids. My sisters and I had sat outside the door, our hands pressed to the wood, listening to her grief. I imagined her long blond bangs like Lady Di’s shielding her face as she wept. 

Birth, weddings, and funerals are different threads in the same cloth. Pull one, and you’ll see how they’re intertwined. 

If I could wind back the clock, I would take my small hand and brush my mother's bangs back from her face. I’d be with her tears. I’d walk with her down the gravel path to where her father was buried. I’d plant a rose bush in our backyard. I’d use my hands to create life instead of praying over the dead.

These poems were selected to be published in The Prose Poem in the summer of 2024.

C u R r e n t l y

What I’m reading:

◇ Essays on Ayurveda.

What I’m listening to:

◇ Conversation between Marion Woodman and Robert Johnson.

What I’m practicing:

◇ Kundalini Kriya for Gastric Health.

Quote of the Week:

So long as we are blind to our inner tyrant, we blame an outer tyrant, some person or some system, for victimizing us. That maintains the split because victim and tyrant are dependent on each other, and together they must be healed. Either/or thinking is symptomatic of this split. It is patriarchal thinking and maintains the destructive status quo.

Marion Woodman

 

1 question to brew on:

• Where are your woods - where do you go to immerse yourself in the wild and release?