petrichor
Today is my last in Turkey.
I can return in Autumn when the leaves are at their brightest and tomatoes are in season.
I will spend the summer in a 17th-century apartment in the South of France. It costs 650 CAD a month and has quirky characteristics, like its owner.
It is not a place for entertainment; there is no nightlife. There is a movie theatre and some cafes, that’s all.
The owner told me this during the initial phone call to determine whether the arrangement fit.
She’s in her seventies, makes rugs from recycled garments, and has an old dog who follows her everywhere. She’s British, moved to the USA in her thirties, and has two properties in France.
On the date of our initial call, I was feeling stuck and cagey.
My finances are in disarray (I put all my purchases on a credit card), I can only live in my home for six months of the year, and I am alone—all the time.
Most days, I can manage my irregular lifestyle. I don’t need to match or mirror what goes on around me. However, there are days when I question every choice and wonder about the future.
Will I have enough to live on when I am elderly and less agile?
Will I settle somewhere to build and contribute to a community?
Will I sit long enough to organize my prose into a coherent text?
Sometimes, I’d like to have a pet, a child, or a partner around for the idle hours of the day—you know, someone else’s presence to feel while I’m writing or reading.
During the call with H (let’s refer to the owner as this), I asked questions and listened.
I love learning from others, especially if they’re older than me.
H’s story gave me the brush of beauty I needed.
She illuminated the ephemeral, spontaneous, passionate nature I carry within that responds to the moment without clinging to the past or preparing for the future.
Petrichor is the scent of the Earth after it rains. It’s the aroma of release, the taste of surrender, the sweetness of opening and offering, and the fragrance of transformation.
This is my summer of petrichor: a subtle romance (with myself!) in the South of France.
Sending you sweet, warm rains—
Seraphina
Zoom Yoga Continues!
KRIYA VINYASA - WEDNESDAY
7am pst | 10am est | 4pm cet | 5pm trt
KUNDALINI YOGA - SATURDAY
8am pst | 11am est | 5pm cet | 6pm trt
These classes are open for everyone to attend, all summer.
Please email me directly if you want to be added to the weekly Zoom link list.
poem s
Fluidity
A vase placed at the center of the tableau
Container for dynamic movement
There must be one for whom it comes
Awareness like the water, flirting with many forms.Petricour: the scent of transmutation
A long wide waltz protects the center
Buds reveal a cellular spiral
What naturally occurs when you fold?
Fluency is the desire to discover authenticity.
Fluidity is the discovery of Self in Action.
A vase holds whatever you place inside of it
All colour is composed of the same light.
—Seraphina Dawn
CURRENTLY
What I’m wearing:
◇ Jeans stained with raspberry juice.
What I’m watching/listening to:
◇ The Sufi Order: Islamic Sufi Dhikr Circle - on repeat!
What I’m practicing:
◇ Withstanding the Pressure of Time Kriya
Quote of the Week:
You have to understand the form of the body in order to understand the meaning of light from within it.
Rumi
3 questions to brew on:
Where are you spending the summer? Physically or metaphysically.
What do you do when you feel stuck/cagey?
Who reminds you of your light body - what practices or people inspire your soul?
