Lately, I’ve been a bit obsessed with feet. No, not in a strange, sexual fetish way. More like a normal fetish way, defined as, “an object regarded with awe as being the embodiment or habitation of a potent spirit or as having magical potency.” It’s a yoga thing. The more curious I become about these…
It was almost midnight on Valentines Day, 2009. I was 36 hours into labor, lying on a hospital bed, crotch open to the world, with a couple nurses checking my dilation repeatedly. My doula was talking me through contractions, my chiropractor was adjusting my hips, my best friend was giving me ice chips, and my…
Trying to be perfect made me crazy. Literally. I don’t like the phrase “practice makes perfect.” And lately, I’ve been hearing this phrase a lot — in yoga class, reading it on blogs, and the other day even my four year-old daughter uttered those very words. Hearing that from such an innocent little person caused…