Something Old, Something New
January 2025
Hello Friends,
New Year’s greetings to you!
As you can see, Maggie is meeting 2025 with a little restorative yoga. I am also taking a minute and sharing some wintery beach time with an old/new friend.
Speaking of old/new: Welcome to my old/new newsletter!
Mostly this is the same free monthly-ish reflection that I have been writing since 2020, but Sk-Yoga Communications is getting a minor facelift. You know—a little brightening, a little tightening, a little confidence-building—all to keep things fresh, both for you and perhaps for some new readers, too.
If you’ve been receiving these missives for awhile, not much should change. Messages will continue to go straight to your inbox. I truly appreciate that you have stuck with me so far and I hope I wont lose you now!
If you are new to my writing and teaching, Hi! Thank you for coming over.
Yes, that is a pizza, shaped like a heart. Because when you invite people over, you should feed them. I’ll do my best. What are you craving?
Me? I am craving quiet. As we move into 2025, it’s already intense and many of us sense that there is A LOT more ahead. A lot of confusion, a lot of challenge, and a lot of noise.
I dont want to add to the chaos or to your overcrowded inbox. I post judiciously, and usually in a short, digestible (there we are, food again) format. I’d like to support you in creating space and perspective and quiet. With that intention, since the early days of the pandemic I’ve created everything from audio-guided yoga and meditation classes to in-person workshops on compassion, equanimity, and reducing anxiety. Some of these offerings will return. New ones may blossom. 🌸
Last year at this time I included a link to my previous New Years post. Titled, “Watch Your Step,” it was about stepping in dog poop 💩 for the first time since moving to Asheville, NC from Brooklyn, NY. One reader suggested the piece might become a January tradition. I like that.
Warning: “Watch Your Step” might not be my quietest post. It’s a little raucous and has un-beeped curse words. But I feel like we’re grown ups; we can handle it. We’ve handled a lot worse! As we head into 2025, Asheville is not the same Asheville. I’m not the same me. We are not quite the same we. And yet, here we are.
In the next few weeks I will get back to it, with some new work and new classes, and this experiment of living and writing and falling down and getting up again and again, will just keep on going. Thank you for joining me. Thank you for listening.
I think the vintage tale (tail?) below is still a good New Years reminder. I hope it gives you a chuckle.
🐕 🐕 🐕
Watch Your Step (Originally posted on January 5, 2023)
Dear Friends,
How's your first week of the year going? Are you feeling shiny and new? Not so much?
Let's talk.
My own tale begins with something that used to happen ALL THE TIME in Brooklyn. Not just in the park, but on your every day human, civilian, sidewalk.
The step, the surprising feeling of squish and then the unwelcome realization that I had stepped in dog shit, yet again. My personal outrage at such moments is generally correlated to two important factors; how fabulous are the shoes, and how deep and complex their tread.
Anyway, on one of the last days of December, and for the very first time on the generally well-tended streets of Asheville, it happened. Squish.
Unfortunately, the boots were in fact good ones, and their soles completely groove-y. (Not in the sense of cool, though needless to say they are, but deep, complex treads.) Thus, not surprisingly, that shit went deep.
"Hey, No problem," I tried to convince myself. I now have a yard! And a hose! In this new paradigm there will be no yucky soiling of my apartment's bathtub or kitchen sink.
I headed outside, put the hose on full blast and held the boot out in front of me. Can you guess what happened? A high-pressured enthusiastic spray of water, thick with shit, bounced right back at my face.
Somehow, I didn't give up immediately. I kept trying different angles of hose and boot, but with pretty much the same result. I wanted my boots shiny and new, immediately. Eventually I kind of started shrieking with frustration, which meant my mouth was open, and well...that shit kept coming.
Luckily, I'm not a selfie-taker.
For a few days the tainted boot sat outside while I considered my next move. On New Year's Day I finally decided "enough was enough," and gathered some instruments from my kitchen. (I'm not telling you which ones. In case you ever come over, I don't want you to refuse to eat together...)
I detached the hose and just let the water run while I scraped, rubbed, rinsed, repeat. That shit was TENACIOUS. This went on for awhile but then, all of a sudden, I had a moment of insight. The bottom of my shoe was simply not going to get perfectly clean. Some of the shit from 2022 was still going to be with me in the new year.
Hello, 2023. Thank you for the lesson.
❤️ Whenever we take a fresh start, we bring our whole selves and the whole messy world along for the ride. A lot is unsettled and unfinished, both individually and collectively. It always will be. This is the practice. ❤️
So, my friends, whatever you may be carrying as we start this new year; you got this. Hold your head high. And watch your step.
With love,
Susan
PS: For more of this type of ethereal wisdom, take class with me.