tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54944841231480120392024-03-05T00:51:51.369-08:00Seduced by SimplicityInspired Living, On the Mat & In the WorldKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-64242817871597163162012-01-29T04:46:00.000-08:002012-01-29T04:46:55.048-08:00not so serious...Do you want to hear about the ridiculously, embarrassing thing that happened to me this week?! While teaching invention strategies in Freshman Comp on the third day of the new semester, I fell off of my chair. Mid-sentence, I fell right off of the front of it, and then it fell on top of me. All of this, in front of a group of complete strangers who, ideally, think that I am respectable and put-together. And do you know the first thing that I thought when this happened? Thank you, yoga. If this had happened to me two years ago, I would have wanted to die. I would have prayed that the earth swallow me up on the spot. I would have never gone back. It is moments like these, that I know the practice is for real. I fell off of the chair, and I just started to laugh; it was not so serious. Yoga has taught me not to take myself, or this life, too seriously. We will all have our share of falls in this life. Don't suffer..laugh, and get up.<br />
<br />
xoxoKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-15548877630851392552012-01-29T04:09:00.000-08:002012-01-29T04:09:16.781-08:00Since I've Been Gone...Since I've been gone, I have...<br />
<ul><li>teaching college English</li>
<li>relearning all of the grammar rules that I forgot a long time ago</li>
<li>learning to sew</li>
<li>treasuring hunting </li>
<li>painting</li>
<li>refinishing, repurposing, and building furniture</li>
<li>learning to stay</li>
<li>cultivating balance</li>
</ul>Now I am back... happily.<br />
<br />
xoxoKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-92091379264837297552011-05-17T11:29:00.000-07:002011-05-17T11:29:01.315-07:00what if...<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I have been reading this beautiful poem in my classes this week... What if, indeed</span>...<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>What If?</strong><br />
<em>A Poem by Ganga White</em></span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">What if religion was each other?<br />
If our practice was our life?<br />
If prayer was our words?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
What if the Temple was the Earth?<br />
If forests were our church?<br />
If holy water—the rivers, lakes and oceans?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
What if meditation was our relationships?<br />
If the Teacher was life?<br />
If wisdom was self-knowledge?<br />
If love was the center of our being?</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
What if God was oneself, and all?</span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-8744992801512233262011-04-19T17:32:00.000-07:002011-04-19T17:32:12.082-07:00present moment practice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWYQJpEl-LoAb7uFCkdUQGRIaZMO8Bi8IQKAB-902ydzifdmd-t_ieWmdweuI5J3TBzKewwRV6Fu3iczYyW-gF20mcHiwBIm6AukyFmoMfkGsjYU_SnakH1gARwg8MEoANVb_cmJVL0szK/s1600/270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWYQJpEl-LoAb7uFCkdUQGRIaZMO8Bi8IQKAB-902ydzifdmd-t_ieWmdweuI5J3TBzKewwRV6Fu3iczYyW-gF20mcHiwBIm6AukyFmoMfkGsjYU_SnakH1gARwg8MEoANVb_cmJVL0szK/s320/270.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSVY45BHQL3EXmkKxP1sv7Hd8eDeLA4M6xPPOfXEeaXhpunaN10gb-jnhcIAFf5ZIjacQ3nrZHjkBhheTHb9PMVE-SfXz-a0klvOMH4yV9w_-IBTCVMuKRfJYZFyMIWpb-faeq_wLKSLX/s1600/266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSVY45BHQL3EXmkKxP1sv7Hd8eDeLA4M6xPPOfXEeaXhpunaN10gb-jnhcIAFf5ZIjacQ3nrZHjkBhheTHb9PMVE-SfXz-a0klvOMH4yV9w_-IBTCVMuKRfJYZFyMIWpb-faeq_wLKSLX/s320/266.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I used to write at 5:00 a.m., but not anymore... Now I have more pressing matters. I am shocked at how similar having her is to having a baby...I am shocked by how much we love her...The demands of caring for something small constantly drag me back into the present moment, and I am grateful for the opportunity to practice this selfless service.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-29907567166645743752011-04-19T17:00:00.000-07:002011-04-19T17:00:44.435-07:00healthy kids day, newburghBent on Change has had the honor of participating in several community events this month; here we are at the YMCA's Healthy Kids Day in Newburgh. Such a joy to share this practice with small people- they are such naturals!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTxX_RwiuZmWHaJ6iTUeZejVHxIRuAPB4W3s2m-QISzXjxJ_p2iRT2yqQ05spjbZFyMhO5eupbTDnvbTkrV0oPpZrfSULHCcz7NJyyimqfY3Fqt6O-aL4Lg2adPep6zrgumttOJySD_ose/s1600/279.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTxX_RwiuZmWHaJ6iTUeZejVHxIRuAPB4W3s2m-QISzXjxJ_p2iRT2yqQ05spjbZFyMhO5eupbTDnvbTkrV0oPpZrfSULHCcz7NJyyimqfY3Fqt6O-aL4Lg2adPep6zrgumttOJySD_ose/s320/279.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih5CPga2qYxCkAt_DWBmHzeZpqv2dM3sVQF4sE6EnRxpYfQu4CEQVDmP7e5z8eUXSjxSARuB5-qmdN-y5Hx2TWC87W8WK13W5JHc1YJHRhIcP89X_DR4T5QAEP3umaRPjF8cG96DZ4pPCe/s1600/273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih5CPga2qYxCkAt_DWBmHzeZpqv2dM3sVQF4sE6EnRxpYfQu4CEQVDmP7e5z8eUXSjxSARuB5-qmdN-y5Hx2TWC87W8WK13W5JHc1YJHRhIcP89X_DR4T5QAEP3umaRPjF8cG96DZ4pPCe/s320/273.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-59509626612004238842011-04-08T13:41:00.000-07:002011-04-15T16:04:35.776-07:00one of my favorites...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Even after </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">all this time</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">the sun never says to the earth,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
"You owe me."</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Look what happens</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">with a love like that-</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">it lights the whole world</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Hafiz</i></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-70825000459491529142011-04-03T04:23:00.000-07:002011-04-03T04:23:49.011-07:00if you ever feel sad,<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">If you ever feel sad, you should come to my house. I found this magical spot: a big, sloped rock (perfect for reclining) just at the top of a waterfall; an old tree trunk extends from the opposite side, offering a place to rest your feet. And there you lay, warm sun shining through the trees on your face and the water rushing beneath you, and all but joy and gratitude dissolves.</div><br />
xoKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-52784600748581476322011-04-02T09:50:00.000-07:002011-04-02T09:51:56.672-07:00dear saturday-morning community class,<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I have a sinking suspicion that none of you will ever read this, but I am writing it anyway. I have heard other yoga teachers say that the boundaries should be drawn so as to prevent an attachment between teacher and students. That the students should come because they are committed to their practice, not because they want to see you, the teacher. And, likewise, that the teacher maintains a certain distance from his or her students to maintain objectivity and clarity. The truth is, I am completely attached to you; I wait all week to see you again and to share in this community that we are creating together. Your commitment to coming each and every week inspires me to show up for my own practice; your willingness to try new things with no pretense or ego inspires me to be humble and courageous. Your voices make the songs sweeter. And I appreciate your support, whether conscious or not, of this very simple vision that I have dedicated myself to. The idea that this beautiful practice should not be confined to studios and to communities who have the resources for such things. This practice is not a luxury, it cannot be owned, and it should not serve as one more thing that causes stratification. It should be available in all communities, to all people who have the desire to learn. It has the power to heal and transform and rebuild those things that have been torn down or worn away. It inspires hope and peace and possibility. I look at you, different people from different places, each with your own story to tell, who come to together to share in this practice and I think, "what else could bring us together in this way?" Yoga has saved me more times than I can count, and now I am once more indebted to it because it brought me to you</span>.<br />
<br />
Namaste.Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-62381634728866639042011-03-28T04:45:00.000-07:002011-03-28T05:30:02.846-07:00my dear student,<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I am so sorry for the loss of your beloved grandmother and for the fact that, when you told me, I offered you little comfort. As a student, and not as a teacher, I always get a deer-in-the-headlights feeling when things like this arise. My first instinct is always to draw from the teachings...to say that our lives are in divine hands, that many of things that happen to us require more faith than understanding, that the sadness that we feel after loss or heartbreak of any kind is bittersweet because it is evidence that we have been fortunate enough to have loved and been touched by another. But when I see the sadness in your eyes, all of that sounds trite...simple, and so I say nothing and then later regret it. If I could go back, I would give you a huge hug and I would draw from the teachings because, even when things feel darkest, I believe in them with my whole heart. <br />
<br />
And so, the question for us all is: Will you let loss split you wide open, soften you, increase your capacity for compassion, and gratitude, and love or will you allow it to harden you, cause you to retreat into yourself? For me, my commitment remains to transparency, authenticity, and, above all else, loving fearlessly.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
When sadness visits me, I read Rumi:</div><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">The Guest House </span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">This being human is a guest house. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">Every morning a new arrival. </span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">A joy, a depression, a meanness, </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">some momentary awareness comes </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">as an unexpected visitor. </span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">Welcome and entertain them all! </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">who violently sweep your house </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">empty of its furniture, </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">still, treat each guest honorably. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">He may be clearing you out </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">for some new delight. </span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">The dark thought, the shame, the malice, </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">meet them at the door laughing, </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">and invite them in. </span><span style="font-size: small;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">Be grateful for whoever comes, </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">because each has been sent </span><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">as a guide from beyond.</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #1c1b15; font-size: small;">xo </span></div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-23772304737005011722011-03-27T05:52:00.000-07:002011-03-27T05:52:59.721-07:00ask and you shall receive<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I think that it is rather unfortunate that my best thinking happens at the most inopportune times...i.e. the shower. And when I'm in the shower, the thoughts seem really brilliant and I feel this intense clarity, but by the time I can jot them down, they seem fragmented and I wonder if they would even make sense to anyone but me...</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Anyway, here is the fragmented shower-thought that I will be discussing in this week's classes...</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This quiet whisper of a voice came to me, without context or commentary, and it said, "It isn't about finding the answers, it's about learning to ask the right questions..." And then the voice was gone, leaving me to decipher this on my own. We fervently and futilely search for the answers, the solutions, the things that will lead us into the light...I am starting to think they don't exist. Because to have an answer, to know something, implies permanence, and this finite understanding cannot exist in a dynamic world through which the winds of change are always blowing. And I realized that the progress of my own practice can be measured by the fact that being able to ask the important questions has become so much more important than actually answering them. It takes courage to be open and honest enough to ask these questions that require us to continuously reflect upon and refine our life practice; this courage is what I wish for you...</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Rilke also has something to say on this matter:</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><i><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer</span>.</i><br />
<br />
xoKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-82326799127522319112011-03-23T09:53:00.000-07:002011-03-23T11:27:25.304-07:00on my mat : scratching the itch (or not)<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">Do you have the patience to wait </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">until you mud settles and the water is clear?</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">Can you remain unmoving </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">till the right action arises by itself?</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"> </div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;">LAO-TZU, Tao-te-Ching</span></div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">This week in class, we are playing with the idea of being non-doers, or at least non-off-the-cuff reactors. It seems that whenever anything "undesirable" comes our way, be it anger or sorrow or garden-variety discomfort, our natural reaction is to meet it with "What am I going to DO?" What we mean is, "What am I going to do to make it go away?" So here is an interesting idea...what would happen if we didn't do anything? What if we just sat still and invited in the discomfort and observed it with patience and compassion? What often happens is that it passes and we see that these feelings are temporary and, like all else, drift by like clouds in an otherwise clear sky. Pema Chodron refers to these feelings as being "itchy" and to our habitual patterns of relieving them as "scratching." Ironically, scratching the itch, though it offers temporary relief, only makes you itchier; remember the chicken pox? It's like that. Of course, sometimes, when the initial bout of itchiness subsides, we realize that some sort of action<b> is</b> required. However, the action plan born out of clarity looks much different than the plan that is hatched from blind emotion; I think we can agree that our first inclination does not always yield the best results. Do you have the patience to wait until the mud settles to make the distinction? I am working on it.</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; text-align: left;">And, so, perhaps your intention this week is to cultivate a willingness to be itchy...</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">xo</div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-53483542111687123962011-03-22T10:04:00.000-07:002011-03-22T10:56:51.760-07:00this is kind of embarrassing, but...I cry a lot. I mean, A LOT. The simplest of beauties or joys moves me to a place where, if I didn't cry, then awe would surely split me wide open at the seams. This tendency of mine has only exacerbated by the acquisition of this small piece of heaven that I now call home. My husband and I bought an old farm, a sanctuary smack dab in the center of suburbia, and have spent the last few months renovating it. We are the first to own it outside of the original farm family and, as I putter around, I find evidence of other lives spent here; old newspapers, trinkets, tools, horse halters and bridles carefully hung on hooks along the barn walls. As I turn these treasures over in my hands, I imagine their daily lives, who they were, and what inspired them. My love of this place, connects me to these would-be-friends of mine in a way I never considered possible.<br />
<br />
When I turn into my driveway, I turn the music off and roll down the windows, no matter how cold it is, so that I can listen to the creek that runs the length of the drive as it rushes along beside me. On some days, the hawk that shares this property with us flies just ahead of the car, guiding me home. Soon, when the leaves of the trees return, the branches will reach out for one another and form a canopy over the drive, and sunshine will spill through, illuminating places here and there.<br />
<br />
I usually make it halfway down the driveway before I begin to cry. People have said that once I get used to it here, I won't be so affected. I hope they are wrong. I hope I never get so used to the beauty of this life that I cease to be moved to tears.<br />
<br />
xoKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-16787540478026629912011-03-22T05:05:00.000-07:002011-03-22T05:05:47.108-07:00on my mat: tuesday vinyasa at shambhala poughkeepsieI realized this morning that by getting up at 5:00a.m, two and a half hours before anyone else, I acquire almost an entire extra day of me time by the end of the week! After my ritualistic checking of my favorite blogs and my 1.5 cups of coffee, I hit the mat with <a href="http://www.yogaglo.com/online-class-950-Engergizing-Flow-with-Kathryn-Budig.html">Kathryn Budig's Energizing Flow</a>. Her "Sun A on crack" has me so ready for the day; I can't wait to share it at my 9:30 Vinyasa Flow at <a href="http://www.shambhalayogacenter.com/">Shambhala Poughkeepsie</a>; come prepared to move!!!<br />
<br />
xoKatehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-37352602958240032702011-03-21T09:32:00.001-07:002011-03-21T10:03:04.766-07:00on my bookshelf: april's read<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I have always, always wanted to be in a book group and now it, like so many other things, has finally come to fruition. We are in the process of choosing April's book...Any Suggestions?!</div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-32491340460193626392011-03-21T09:31:00.001-07:002011-03-21T10:46:16.514-07:00in my kitchen: soup's on<div style="color: #999999; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">This is one of my favorite recipes from one of my favorite cookbooks, <u>The Vegetarian Family Cookbook</u>. My son LOVES broccoli soup and this one sneaks some extra protein into it. Tonight, I left out the peas and added some shredded cheddar and a splash of ale into the mix. Crusty bread is a must.</div><div style="color: #999999; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Cream of Broccoli Soup </b></div><div style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Ingredients: </b></div><ul style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><li>1 1/2 tablespoons of olive oil</li>
<li>1 medium/large onion, coarsely chopped</li>
<li>2/3 broccoli crowns</li>
<li>1 vegetable bouillon cubes</li>
<li>One 16-ounce can Great Northern beans, drained and rinsed</li>
<li>2 cups frozen green peas, thawed</li>
<li>1 cup low-fat milk (substitute rice or soy for vegan option)</li>
<li>Salt and pepper to taste</li>
</ul><div style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><b>Putting it Together:</b></div><ul style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><li>Heat oil in soup pot and add onion. Saute until golden (aprox. 5-7 minutes)</li>
<li>Add broccoli, bouillon, and 4 cups of water. Bring to a simmer, cover and continue gently simmering for about 8 minutes</li>
<li>Transfer to a food processor, puree until smooth, and return mixture to pot. Puree the beans and 1 cup of peas and add them to the pot.</li>
<li>Add enough milk to give the soup a medium thick consistency. Stir in the remaining peas and cheese (if using). Cook over low heat for 5 minutes.</li>
</ul><div style="color: #666666; font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #999999;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">I love listening to music while I cook! Tonight was Madeline Peyroux: </span><br />
<br />
</div><div style="color: #999999;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #999999;"><br />
</div><br />
<img border="0" height="0" src="http://c.gigcount.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bT*xJmx*PTEzMDAwNjMxOTc1MDEmcHQ9MTMwMDA2MzIxMTEyNyZwPTY5NDMwMSZkPSZnPTEmbz*wNTk4ODM2NDUwOWQ*MzAyOGE2/ZTEzNDdkZWU3MjJjZiZvZj*w.gif" style="height: 0px; visibility: hidden; width: 0px;" width="0" /><br />
<br />
<img style="visibility:hidden;width:0px;height:0px;" border=0 width=0 height=0 src="http://c.gigcount.com/wildfire/IMP/CXNID=2000002.0NXC/bT*xJmx*PTEzMDA3Mjk1MzkzMTcmcHQ9MTMwMDcyOTU*OTcwMiZwPTY5NDMwMSZkPSZnPTEmbz*wNTk4ODM2NDUwOWQ*MzAyOGE2/ZTEzNDdkZWU3MjJjZiZvZj*w.gif" /><div style="text-align: center; margin-left: auto; visibility:visible; margin-right: auto; width:450px;"><object width="450" height="470"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.musicplaylist.us/mc/mp3player_new.swf"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="never"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><param name="flashvars" value="config=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Fext%2Fpc%2Fconfig_black_noautostart.xml&mywidth=450&myheight=470&playlist_url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.musicplaylist.us%2Fpl.php%3Fplaylist%3D84600025%26t%3D1300729532&wid=os"></param><embed style="width:450px; visibility:visible; height:470px;" allowScriptAccess="never" src="http://www.musicplaylist.us/mc/mp3player_new.swf" flashvars="config=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.indimusic.us%2Fext%2Fpc%2Fconfig_black_noautostart.xml&mywidth=450&myheight=470&playlist_url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.musicplaylist.us%2Fpl.php%3Fplaylist%3D84600025%26t%3D1300729532&wid=os" width="450" height="470" name="mp3player" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" border="0"/> </object> <br/> <a href="http://www.musicplaylist.us"><img src="http://www.musicplaylist.us/mc/images/create_black.jpg" border="0" alt="Get a playlist!"/></a> <a href="http://www.musicplaylist.us/playlist/21657606411/standalone" target="_blank"><img src="http://www.musicplaylist.us/mc/images/launch_black.jpg" border="0" alt="Standalone player"/></a> <a href="http://www.musicplaylist.us/playlist/21657606411/download"><img src="http://www.musicplaylist.us/mc/images/get_black.jpg" border="0" alt="Get Ringtones"/></a> </div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-77038377778820293672011-03-21T09:29:00.000-07:002011-03-21T10:25:31.184-07:00on my mat: saluting the sun<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">One of my favorite things about planning a class is Sun Salutations; here is what I am loving right now:</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Beginning standing in Mountain at the front of your mat</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Inhale, sweeping the arms overhead, gazing at the thumbs</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Exhale, diving over the legs</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Inhale, Lengthening the spine</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Exhale, planting the hands and jumping to Down Dog</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Dropping both knees & inhaling to Cow</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Exhale, Lowering chest & chin</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Inhale, Baby Cobra</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Exhale, Child's Pose to Downward Facing Dog</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Inhale to Plank</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Exhale Chaturanga or Knees-Chest-Chin</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Inhale to Upward Facing Dog or Cobra</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Exhale to Downward Facing Dog; Stay for 5 Breaths</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Exhale, deeply bending the knees & hopping or stepping forward</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Inhale, Lengthen the Spine</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Exhale, Fold</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Inhale, Reversing your swan dive and returning to Mountain</div><div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">- Repeat x3</div>Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5494484123148012039.post-22947841748433583722011-03-13T18:05:00.000-07:002011-03-13T18:05:33.390-07:00a penny for your thoughts...My blog, that has been standing empty for weeks, finally has words! I am thrilled about the idea of writing, connecting with you, whoever you are, and sharing this glorious journey with you. I am struck by the beauty of simple things. I stand completely in awe of this life. I am committed to fully living every single second. I am seduced by:<br />
<ul><li>the way the sunlight dances on the creek</li>
<li>old barns</li>
<li>clothes lines and the smell of fresh laundry</li>
<li>the woods...everything about the woods</li>
<li>the velvety nose of a horse</li>
<li>creaky floors</li>
<li>the smell of wood</li>
<li>front porches</li>
<li>poetry and prose</li>
<li>the sticky hands of children </li>
<li>Golden Retrievers</li>
<li>berries</li>
<li>sunrises</li>
</ul>What takes your breath away?!Katehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12059819636980664322noreply@blogger.com0