All posts tagged: yoga

El Salvador Sunday 203

Weekend Project: Zen Meditation Cushion

I like to meditate. In theory at least. In truth, I only get around to it like twice a month, and even then I get bored after a few minutes, lose track of how many deep breaths I’ve taken and think, “Well that was probably good enough for today.” The important thing, though, is to have a nice meditation pillow. Because if you don’t have one then you will never meditate, and if you do have one, then you’re behind will be nice and comfy for your semi-annual tune ins. Meditation pillows, I learned thanks to Pinterest, are called zafus and you can buy them all over the internet but they’re not cheap (the boring ones are at least $40) and they’re actually quite easy to make if you know how to sew.  I made TWO for around $30 and it took me just a few hours. All you need is: A yard of fabric (or more if you’re prone to messing up and/or want to get creative by using different colors) Stuffing (I used …

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Throw Back Thursday: Date #12

Here’s a little tidbit from 2010, back when I was young and crazy and able to date multiple men at the same time.  Enjoy! I’m sitting cross legged on the floor, eyes closed, holding the index finger of my left hand against my left nostril and breathing through my right.  Why?  Because the flap on my box of Yogi Chai Rooibos tea bags told me to, that’s why.  These twenty six breaths through my right nostril are supposed to bring me “sunny energy” and with five first dates in five days, I need all the energy I can get.  (Sorry if you were hoping for a steamy account of tantric sex; it’s just cardboard box yoga). Prior to the advent of this blog, I don’t think I’ve ever been called “energetic.”  Actually, there was one time.  It was in Ehmkendorf, a tiny town in northern Germany.  I was seventeen and just completing my first international service project with Volunteers For Peace.  On the last day of the workcamp, one of my fellow volunteers presented me …

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A Valentine’s Day Miracle

Let’s start with last Friday.  Last Friday I went to the Art Museum.  Again.  I’m practically living at the art museum these days.  It’s great really: you get all the trappings of a great date (decent wine, an excuse to get dressed up, people watching, etc.) but you don’t actually have to be on a date to enjoy the spoils. In fact, it’s better if you’re not. This way you can ogle people of the opposite sex and think of all the great things you’d say to them if you only had the nerve. (I typed that in my very best Cowardly Lion accent, by the way.) But all that changed last Friday.  Last Friday, you see, I made contact. I saw him the moment I entered the hall.  He was standing by himself at a little cocktail table and he was totally staring at me.  (Then again, I was wearing my French Revolution boots… everybody stares at me when I wear my French Revolution boots.  They have a combined 36 buttons, many of which …

The Grass. Its Greener. On the Other Side.

When I’m not busy worrying about my career, my love life and my abject inability to put my laundry away in a timely fashion, I like to worry about having kids.  I love kids, and I know I’m good with kids, but from what I understand, there’s more to being a parent than reading stories and doling out stickers. As such, I was tickled pink when one of my five year olds told me, “Miss Kat, I wish you were my mom!” Now, I was careful to nip this in the bud—the last I want is for said five year old to go home and repeat this to his real mother, thereby giving the poor woman some sort of complex—but it was nice to hear. “You don’t want me to be your mom,” I said.  “I’d make you eat vegetables all the time.” “And do yoga?” he asked hopefully. “Yes.”  What? “And would you read us yoga stories?” “Well, yes.  Probably.”  Huh? This conversation wasn’t going quite the way I’d hoped.  And even though I …

Remember Date #6?

Welcome to another installment of My Single Male Friend Friday.  This week’s eligible bachelor is none other Date #6 (although I’ve yet to get his permission to post a photo so you’ll just have to take me word on this one: he’s cute). You may recall Date #6 from the early days of my Great Date Experiment.  We went for drinks during Center City Sips and he was kind enough to meet me for lunch a few weeks later during My Worst Date to Date. Date #6’s real name is the same as Date #7’s (which makes things both easier and more complicated at the same time) and unlike my previous Single Male Friends, he actually lives here in Philadelphia. Even though we never really hit it off in terms of chemistry, we’ve kept in touch.  He tells me about his love life, I tell him about mine and one of these days we really are going to make it to that Saturday morning yoga class… In the meantime, he’s exactly the sort of guy …

Just Another (Writing) Wednesday

6:30am Sh*t! I’ve overslept!  I’ve got classes to teach! 6:35am Right.  It’s summer vacation.  Back to sleep… 7:00am I really wish Date #7 was here right now. 7:05am I really, really wish Date #7 was here right now. 7:06am I wonder if he’s gotten my letter yet? 7:07am Of course not.  He’s still on vacation.  At the beach. 7:08am I wish I was on vacation.  At the beach.  With Date #7.  Except I only have the one bikini, and the boob padding always ends up all bunched up and weird looking.  Maybe I should remove the boob padding… except then my boobs look even smaller.  It’s probably a good thing I’m not at the beach with Date #7. 7:10am Hmmm… I wonder what time I set my alarm for?  7:30 maybe? 7:20am I should get up and do some yoga. 7:25am I should NOT get up and do some yoga!  I am on summer break and supposed to be SLEEPING! 7:30am Stupid alarm. 7:35am  Stupid, stupid alarm. 7:40am Five more minutes. 7:45am NO!  NO MORE …

Why I Need to Stop Doing Yoga

So I know yoga is supposed to be all about cleaning your mind and such but I’ve always believed that physical exertion should be rewarded.  This is why the last time I took a ballet class at Koresh (approximately 2.5 years ago) I headed straight from the ladies room to the Cuban restaurant on Pine St. where I proceeded to recoup any calories I’d previously burned by drinking pomegranate mojitos. (Just in case you’re wondering, when you go from taking ballet four or five days a week to taking ballet four or five times a year, mojitos are a matter of survival.  I remember standing at the barre, attempting yet another round of grand battements and thinking to myself “Why am I doing this?  Right: because I’m going for mojitos afterwards.”  For some people, ballet is enough of a reward in and of itself.  I am not one of those people.) But I digress. A friend of mine is finishing up a teacher training course at a yoga studio in West Philly and she invited …

Skating and Dating

Here’s a tip: if you’re rather touchy about your ice skating skills (or lack thereof in my case), do not agree to hit the rink with a man who just happens to coach ice hockey in his spare time.  It’s not often that my dates leave me feeling completely discombobulated without the benefit of alcohol.  I teach dance for a living!  And I can do just about anything in heels: tap dance, hike, even ride a bike.  Granted, my last biking-in-heels adventure culminated in me trying to extricate my lace-up stilettos from the chains of my bike while balancing on one foot on a rather public street corner in Oxford, but still. Unfortunately, I’m not nearly as adept in skates as I am in stilettos. “When was the last time you went skating?” Potential Soul Mate#1 asked as I tottered my way onto the rink last night. I’m not sure what prompted this question.  Granted, there were toddlers zooming past me but it’s not like I spent the whole time clinging to the wall.  “When …