Medeu, Almaty

It was like a holiday, every time. Men sharpening blades, music playing, shirtless people, backwards skating, dancing, in the mountains. People bound together by this strange, amazing activity. A holiday embedded into me, a child, forever. I look out at the these and I plot: for my kids and my inner kid. Let's go! 

Unsupported

When you are not held

and loved and understood

unprovided for

Happiness has no place

But take responsibility

and change

There's joy oozing out of the washing machine

delight on the ironing board

there are smiles brooding in the soup pot

Shop vac your tears

You can return to this sculpted chaos any time

Generate your awe for life

in tadasana

and dance like only you do

Isn't there a guitar in there, too?