On Summer
- Jul, 11 2008
- By Jennifer
- Beyond the Mat, Environment, Love
- No comments
The first days of summer have presented me with a very clear theme through such events as the recall of red toxically painted Thomas the Trains made in China, (which means that James #5, my son Liam’s favorite, could potentially poison him), a no-holds-barred geyser in the front yard from a broken pipe at 2am Solstice morning, and a bird who inadvertently committed suicide against the newly washed windows of my in-house yoga studio, a result of my best efforts at creating clarity through Fung Shui. I’m considering my relationship with the earth and the responsibility that comes with being a serious yoga practitioner.
Last week I lay down on the grass in San Francisco and looked at little puffy white clouds moving by at a good clip. I got out my camera and snapped. I thought about the phrase we yoga teachers almost universally use referring to meditation, “watching thoughts pass like clouds, notice the thought; then let it go.” During periods where my meditation practice languishes, I tend to get attached to the significance of my thoughts as if what I’m thinking is actually how it is ‘out there.’ So I sit – and watch on a regular basis– Fung Sui for my inner life.
Read More...France and Saint Valentine
- Sep, 12 1999
- By Jennifer
- Festivals, Love, Travel
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After determining that there were no official holidays or special ‘fete’s’ or feast days during my visit to France, I decided to video that which interested me and see where it would lead. So I began shooting: I began in Paris where extent of the twice life size bronze gods flanked on old stone buildings and the subjects of monuments, goddesses, women bearing their breasts, men and women writhing around with snakes, lions and various mythological beasts. The women in Paris wear clothing is made for touch and hugs their bodies. And in the park the women and men hold and press into each other tenderly. Even at it’s most famous cemetery houses monuments to such names as the graves of Jim Morrison, Chopin, Sarah Bernhart and Balzac. So I confirmed to myself that I was attracted to the romance of Paris, like everyone else.

