#Meditation Lessons in New York

[flushingmeditation]

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[a-d-nox]

wyrd web: what to gift a person based these three numbers

this is just a theory of mine because these bubbles of the matrix should represent earthly desires. this is not to say that you can't enjoy things not listed in your category / under your energetic number. this is simply what i believe people with these numbers would enjoy receiving as a gift.

2 - the high priestess

things that support their spiritual practices, things that support feminine health (hum women's probiotics bundle, honey pot oral vaginal care probiotic, etc), bake goods / baking gear, barbecue sauce sampler / grilling gear (for the dads pt 2), bar in a jar (for those of drinking age) or really any beverage tester kit, bath/spa kit, beach vacation, boat, cruise, careof for brain support, truly nice melons boob butter, candles (it doesn't have to be yankee candle either - bent candles, spiced votive candle, etc) or candle making kit, imported cheeses, clothing staples (blue jeans, black turtleneck, etc), juice cleanse or other things that support digestive health, cooking classes or meal kits (hellofresh, homechef, etc), a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, or outdoor cameras or other home security tools

3 - the empress

pillows, stuffed animals, rose quartz, personal celebrity cameo, clothing, tickets for an art museum tour, ballet tickets or classes, art supplies, makeup pallets and/or brushes, flowers, jewelry, candy/sweets, money, bells / wind chimes, clothing, designer pieces, cosmetics, dolls, a trip to a fancy restaurant, fruit basket / dried fruits, gardening supplies, jewelry, concert/orchestra tickets, poetry book, tickets to a play, a purse, lingerie (if y'all are close like that), trip to a vineyard (for those of drinking age), couples' dancing classes, or a wallet

4 - the emperor

skincare, rock climbing voucher or some other physical activity they enjoy, an adrenaline rush activity (skydiving, bungee jumping, etc), careof for brain support, crafted wooden objects (cutting boards, tables, etc), coffee trials/samplers, sunglasses, blue light glasses, hair care products/supplies, scalp treatments/care, oral health care (thera breath, whitening products, etc), meditation app subscriptions / in person sessions for meditation, or a planner

5 - the hierophant

moss agate (don't question how random that sounds this is some intuitive stuff), artwork, an architectural tour, beauty products/supplies, historically significant objects, pastries or sweets/candies, earrings, sour dough starter kit, jewelry in general, piano/organ lessons, singing lessons, a wallet, or any classes where they can learn something fun and new to them

6 - the lovers

car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), bicycle or bicycle accessories/gear, books (the more educational the better), briefcase / work tote, bus tickets for a day trip, gym membership or soulcycle classes, crystals, a standing desk / cute office supplies (for the work girlies both those who work in office and from home), hand & foot message, manicure voucher, newspaper subscription (i am a fan of new york times, washington post, and the new yorker), language classes or rosetta stone subscription, magazines subscription, merchandise from their favorite singer / group / tv show / movie, train trip, or we're not really strangers card packs

7 - the chariot

gardening supplies, hermit crab, baked goods, bath products / beauty products, boat, cruise, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), truly nice melons boob butter, juice cleanse, gut health thrive market kit, glassware / blown glass, stuff they need / need for their home (security system, chest freezer, etc), hotel or bed & breakfast stay, kitchenware, lake trip, pearls, real estate / land, restaurant voucher / gift card, silver jewelry, shopping gift cards, a trip, or intention journal

8 - strength

amusement park tickets, supplies for their passion projects, ballroom dancing classes, tea sampler, games (video games or board games), movie theater gift card, personal celebrity cameo, flower garden supplies/seeds, stuff for their pet, or a belt

9 - the hermit

pet related gifts (if they have a pet that is), bookshelves (they probably need one), juice cleanse, gut health thrive market kit, a cat, clothing, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), stationary, emergency preparedness (ready to eat meals, fire blanket, etc), cook books, dining ware (new plates/bowls, cups / glassware, silverware, etc), food subscriptions (home chef, hello fresh, pickle of the month club, bokksu japanese snack box, etc), careof subscription, gloves, herb garden kit, a one way ticket to anywhere, or a hiking trip

10 - wheel of fortune

incense, cleansing herbs, bow and arrow, sapling, land, dried berries, budget book, gym/exercise membership, religious/spiritual/philosophical books, poker set, cloth (if they like sowing), wool (if they like weaving, crocheting, and/or knitting), wool clothing, a coat, trip to a country or place they have never been, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), etiquette classes/books (this is great for the traveler because they are often interested in learning customs before going on their trip), figs, fruit basket (like edible arrangements), honey sampler / royal jelly, horseback riding lessons, lottery tickets, merchandise from their favorite singer / group/ tv show / movie, shoes, really any game, any subscription they have not tried, things that support their spiritual practices, or book on positive mindset

11 - justice

personal celebrity cameo, tickets to a ballet or to an art gallery, air purifier, portable heating pad, spa voucher, cosmetics, lingerie (if y'all are close), closet organizational items (space saving hangers, linen bins, accessory hanger, etc), pastries and sweets, diamonds (perhaps propose to your lover), a dress, tickets to a fashion show or exhibit, flowers, a luxury chair, jewelry, concert tickets, poetry books, any quartz pieces, chocolates dipped strawberries, hair extensions, logic puzzles, a voucher for an escape room, or a kitchen/baking scale

12 - the hanged man

bar in a jar (if they are of drinking age), a book on angel numbers, a book on natural medical remedies, ballet classes or tickets to see a ballet, bath bombs and other bath goodies (salt, bath table, candles, sugar scrub, bath teas, etc), beach vacation, tea or coffee sampler, butterfly farm kit with caterpillars, disposable camera or a camera they would like (polaroid, filming, etc), scientific kits (geode kit, grow your own crystals, etc), cigars (for the dads in your life), unsolved mysteries or crime kit, dance classes, smutty/romance/fantasy books, fairy garden, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, budget book, makeup palettes or other cosmetic they enjoy, concert tickets, paint, poetry books, clue the board game, a pass to an indoor pool, a book on poppet making, meditation membership or a voucher for in-person sessions, or something to support their curiosity for new spiritual insight

13 - death

hermit crab, a jumping spider, a reptile, homeopathic books for natural cures and remedies, operation the game, butcherbox subscription, a book on how to cook and trim meats, beginners chemistry kit, a colon cleanse, sea monkeys, unsolved mysteries or crime kit, philosophy of death books, books on magic, magic the gathering the card game, period products (portable heating pad, the diva cup, etc), poisonous plants (belladonna, foxglove, lily of the valley, etc), a frog pond, a scorpion, a snake, a burr/boo basket (these people love seasonal stuff), or marie kondo's life changing magic of tidying up

14 - temperance

a hunting trip, bow and arrows, books on religion or philosophy, book of devotions, book on dream meanings (hello, freud haha), a certification course or college class, horseback riding lessons (for the newbie or a younger sibling or your child/niece/nephew), horse drawn carriage ride (for the couples *smirk*), logic puzzles, things that support their goals, or a book of angel number meanings

15 - the devil

a fan or air conditioning unit, if you have the land for it a cow/horse/goat, kinetic tape, arnicare bruise cream (this is a joke... unless...), coal or a diamond (this is also a joke... unless...), a clock or a watch, cuticle trimmer (and other nail care things), room darkening curtains, a happy lamp, lotion/cream, hat/scarf/gloves, hair products (extensions, shampoo subscription, etc), leather fashion-ware, gardening supplies, ice maker, or a juice cleanse

16 - the tower

tiger balm or other pain relieving ointment, acrobatic/gymnastic classes, homeopathic books for natural cures and remedies, first-aid kit, baking kits, barbecue sauce sampler, barbecue sauce sampler / grilling gear (for the dads), gift card for haircut, dollar shave club (for the dads pt 2), metal works (spoon handle rings, metal roses, etc), boxing lessons, boxing match tickets or monster truck tickets, butcherbox subscription, a book on how to cook and trim meats, crafted wooden objects (cutting boards, tables, etc), cactus plant, beginners chemistry kit, cookbook, pocket knife or leatherman/multitool, tool kit, jenga, emergency kit, food, first aid kit, merchandise for their favorite superhero(es), electric lighter, liqour or bar in a jar (if they are of drinking age), rock music (a vinyl or concert tickets), pepper plant, pipe for smoking (if they like to smoke that is - my grandfather had a collection), lego kit, or lincoln logs

17 - the star

friendship bracelets, a fan / ac unit, model airplane, flight lessons, compression stockings/socks, architectural tour, astrology reading, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), club memberships (golf, racket ball, sam's, etc), electronic devices (a new phone, amazon fire stick, solar portable charger, etc), movie on blue-ray or dvd, movie gift card, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, shadow work journal, aesthetically pleasing bluetooth retro radio, streaming service subscription, a book on health or mental health, or a book on positivity

18 - the moon

abstract art, bar in a jar (if they are of legal age), a fish, a fish tank, tickets to an aquarium, cocktail book (if they are of legal age), a fishing trip (for the dads), book of conspiracy theories, the conspiracy theory map, a crystal ball, unsolved mysteries or crime kit, a jellyfish, a tarot/astrology/mediumship reading, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, poetry book, hydroponic starter system, games that involve bluffing (clue, poker, herd mentality, etc), shoes, sleeping eye mask, silk pillow cases, new bed sheets, bonnet, socks, a computer keyboard, typewriter, a book on shadow work, a puppy, or a book on dream meanings

19 - the sun

maine coon, autobiographical books, ballroom dancing lessons, poker set, oral health products (thera breath, whitening products, etc), card games, personal celebrity cameo, circus fruit basket, chocolate gold coins, classes that encourage creativity (create it and break it sessions, pottery classes, etc), jewelry or an engagement ring (if it's been more than 2 years y'all should know what you are doing at this point), flowers, indoor herb garden, tickets to race of some sort (cars, horse, sporting events, etc), sporting equipment, ivy plant, a pottery painting voucher / gift certificate, or something for their passion project / hobby

20 - judgment

a reptile, ant farm, a guide on astral projection, operation the game, the chameleon game, clue game, unsolved case files game, grand theft auto video game, assassins creed video game, dungeons and dragons the game, yahtzee, emergency preparedness kit, magician kit, poisonous plants (belladonna, foxglove, lily of the valley, etc), the divine comedy, puzzles, a rodent of some sort, or lingerie (if y'all are close)

21 - the world

gardening supplies, acoustic guitar, air conditioning or fan, architectural tour, teddy bear, snow globe, boots, calendar or planner, supergoop (sun protectant) products, wooden objects (cutting board, chest, box, etc), carpet, clay (air drying or via kiln), a clock or watch, compression stockings/socks, collectible coins, pain patches or kinetic tape, crystals, budget book, lotions for dry skin, dried fruits, gloves/mittens, hair care products, ice machine or ice making trays, ice cream subscription, pottery classes, rain coat, real estate or land, zen sand garden, sculpture, or snake

22 - the fool

flight lessons, model airplane, a flight to anywhere, car stuff (seat covers, cup holder coasters, etc), an astrology reading, bath products, biking gear, movie theatre gift card, clock or watch, club memberships (golf, racket ball, sam's, etc), mood lighting or strip lights, a train ride, fun magnets, motorcycle accessories/training, microphone (maybe they are filming or recording something), patterns for cross stitch / knitting / crocheting, a camera (polaroid or another type they have been eyeing), disposable cameras, camera gear, stuff for the tv (surround sound, sound bar, streaming subscription, etc), or classes for one of their interests

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[esote-rika]

Once Upon A Dream [Spencer Reid]

I made another Spencer Reid fic, this time loosely inspired by Practical Magic and Sleeping Beauty! Idk if I'll cross post it on Tumblr yet, maybe if there's enough interest? But it's on my Wattpad.

Tags: Spencer Reid x Fem!Oc, loose magic realism, mystery, mostly will be fluff

Here's the summary:

In the soft, fleeting hours of the night, Spencer Reid finds love.

It comes in flashes.

Honeyed hair and a low, feminine voice. The scent of cinnamon and amber, deep and dizzying. In his dreams, she feels real. How else would he be able to hold her or know that her hands are cold?

He sees her in dizzying detail, from the roots of her hair (which is growing back brown), to her nails (painted a different shade of pastel), down to the crescent birthmark on her ankle. The detail deceives him into believing she is real.

At one point, he thought she was Maeve, because of the blonde hair. However, he has heard Maeve before. For months, the sound of her voice was the only thing he truly knew about her.

This ephemeral being in his dreams does not sound like Maeve.

Certainly, she reminds him of Maeve, with the way she slips away before he can get a good look at her face.

Oh, the things he would do to get a glimpse of her face, to see her beyond his dreams.

New York City is loud.

Everyone is doing their own versions of spells here, prayers and meditations and manifestations late into the night. Everyone is trying to be something, someone, and it all rings in a near painful cacophony of desperation and drive.

Jet Clarke has learned to tune it out, learned that surrounding her bed with salt and wearing black tourmaline helps give her a moment of peace, especially in the night when she's trying to get some sleep.

Somehow, he still manages to slip through. Who? She doesn't know. She's more concerned over the fact that he keeps getting past her protective spells than she is about his identity.

Sure her defenses weren't top notch (she had never truly paid attention to the defense lessons from her aunts), but for the most part, they work. It had been able to block the coven of overeager teen girls down the street who are still testing the limits of their gifts.

So she doesn't understand why she continues to dream of eyes that look like liquid gold, and flashes of purple fabric.

When Jet's sister becomes a person of interest in a series of murders, she goes back to her quaint hometown in Massachusetts, only to find herself face to face with one of the FBI agents handling the case.

The very same man who's been haunting her dreams.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Of Magic, Miracles, and Moonlight

a Stephen Strange x OFC Romance

genre: pre-Infinity War, slow burn romance, older man/younger woman, teacher/student to friends to lovers characters: Stephen Strange, Wong, Teyla of Hadeeth (OFC), Moraine of Hadeeth (OC), additional OCs as Kamar-Taj staff rating: general audience to begin with, later chapters contain 18+ material

Ch.One | Ch.Two

Chapter Three

Normally, Masters conducted training in a variety of disciplines, in the main courtyard, or in the smaller open air spaces of the Kamar-Taj complex, regardless of the weather--for sorcerers-in-training required preparation enough to utilize their skills in unpredictable or adverse conditions.  Even during monsoon season, this policy was seldom suspended, with the occasional rare exception; and by long-standing tradition, outdoor sessions were canceled only at the discretion of The Ancient One.  Since her loss, such a situation had not yet arisen—so it was inevitable that such should fall in a week where Stephen was in residence there, far from his place as Master of the New York Sanctum.

From June through early September, Kathmandu saw rain daily, with intermittent evening thunderstorms.  Steven Strange felt every day of that rain as a heightened ache in nearly every joint of his hands.  He hadn’t needed to check Doppler radar online to know that a doozey of a storm was headed their way; he’d felt the drop in barometric pressure several hours in advance, and the damp in the air announced itself spectacularly in a persistent, bone-deep throb that did it’s best to distract him from every task he set himself to.  Adding insult to injury, his tremors had intensified to the point of equaling those of the beginning months of his recovery.  Meditation helped to some extent, but the discomfort remained a constant, like white noise in the background as he moved throughout his day.  He kept to himself most of the day, focusing in the later hours on preparing himself to meet with Teyla for their first “lesson”, scheduled after the evening meal.

The winds lashed the rain against his back, while he crossed a courtyard lit by the flash of lightning, the peal of thunder distant enough to inform him that the worst of the storm had finally passed overhead. 

She was waiting for him in the library, as they’d arranged, engrossed in a text he recognized from his own early studies, and scribbling notes in a hand that would rival the worst of any doctors’ that he’d known.     

Stephen cleared his throat to announce his arrival, but Teyla’s eyes remained cast upon the book in front of her.  “Come here often?” he quipped, vying for her attention, swiftly realizing she probably wouldn’t get the humor of that old, banal pick-up line.  He set his rucksack on the table, then took the seat opposite her.

She looked up with a start, then smiled sheepishly, “I’m sorry, Doctor Strange—I got a little lost doing the translation here.”  She slid the book across the table to him.  “It’s the third passage down.  I can’t tell if it’s require or recommend.”

He read the passage through, recalling the difficulties for Novices, of translating Sanskrit on sight—made doubly hard, he reckoned, as she might need to translate it first to English, and then into Hadeethan.  “It’s ‘pay no heed to’,” he told her, pointing to several words proceeding it, “You need to look at it in context to get the true meaning.”  He slid the book back to her.

“Oh—of course!  Now it makes sense.” She crossed the incorrect word off her notes, than laid her pencil down, “Thank you, Doctor.  I have been stuck a while, trying to work it out.”

Strange reached into his rucksack and pulled his tablet out.  “I’ve found this indispensable for translating ancient languages—saves a helluva lot of time.”  He handed it to Teyla, who looked immediately perplexed by the device.  “I don’t suppose you’ve got one of these,” he asked.  She shook her head solemnly.  “Okayyyyy—well how about I leave this with you for the evening?  It’ll make the hours ahead much more productive for you.”

“That is very kind of you, Doctor Strange, although…well…I have no idea how this thing…”

“This tablet,” he told her.

“Oh. This…tablet.  I have no skill with such a tool.”  She offered it back to him.

“Well, this one isn’t difficult at all.  Let me run through its functions for you, and I’ll bet you’ll be breezing through it in no time.”

Stephen went over the basics, and then showed her how to access various websites pertinent to her studies, including a translation site that he had relied on to get him through his early training.  Once she got over her initial distrust of the technology as a sufficient aid for study, Teyla adapted readily, and proved to have a defter hand with it than he had anticipated

Next, he removed several books from his pack and set two of them in front of her. “Now, these texts provide an introduction to clairvoyance and divination.  I want you to take some time over the next couple of days, read them through.”  Teyla picked one up, and then the other, running her fingers across the titles embossed on the covers.  “I’ve bookmarked some sections that I think have a direct bearing on what we’re trying to accomplish here,” he told her, “And if you feel ready, I encourage you to try what exercises you find worth your efforts.”

“I will do my best,” she nodded, “Master Salma said I will be mapping unchartered territory.”  She looked down, quietly admitting, “I find it all…very…intimidating.”

“No one will be judging you, Teyla.”  She met his eyes at that, searching for assurances.  “I promise,” he added, “And if we’re lucky, Kamar-Taj will learn as much from you, and you from us.”

Relief dawned first in her eyes, and then spread softly across her face, “I must admit my mentors on Hadeeth were frustrated when they could not provide teaching enough for me to harness and refine my raw ability for divination.  I pray that your efforts to guide me will not be a waste of your valuable time.”

“No effort to teach is wasted when the student is sincere in their desire to learn,” he assured her, his voice low and persuasive, “And that is something I’ve learned as both a student and a teacher myself—and not just of the mystics arts.  My medical training was more than a decade long process.”

Strange pulled a plain, leather bound book and pen from the side pocket of his rucksack, “One of the simplest things you can do is keep a record of your dreams.  The texts advise you do so nightly—or at least as often as you are able to recall your dreams upon awakening.”  He slid the items across the table to her.  “Whatever details you can remember without concentrating too hard—otherwise your waking mind will try to add definition to things that don’t make sense…”

Teyla nodded, growing excited, “Why yes—immediately record the images and the events of my dreams.  How have I not thought of this myself!  To keep a…a dream…”

“…journal,” they finished together.  She grinned at him, “Your wisdom has already surpassed that of my Hadeethan teachers.”

He chuckled, “As much as I’d like to, I can’t take credit for the idea, Teyla; it’s a basic beginning in most of these texts.  Keep in mind, your best results will come from writing down your first thoughts, no matter how confusing or jumbled they may be.  Don’t give your mind a chance to filter or rearrange them in a search for meaning.”

“Yes, yes,” she murmured, “I understand…”

“And your feelings, Teyla.  How you felt throughout the dream—and how you feel upon awakening.  Even if you wake mid-dream, or in the middle of the night,” he stressed, “Write it down.  This should help us see patterns in your dreaming, and eventually enable you to distinguish normal dreams from the prophetic ones.”

And there it was:  that light in her eyes and upon her face that reminded him of the simple joy of having an avenue of learning open up before him.  As exacting as his medical studies had been, there had always been the deep satisfaction of just knowing he was on the path to knowledge meant for him.  And again as he began his studies at Kamar-Taj.  As a physician, Stephen had seen that light from time to time, in his best student interns—and had forgotten it could be equally satisfying to the teacher who invoked it in their charges.  From a task he’d initially dreaded, he was suddenly glad the situation had forced him to become Teyla’s mentor.

Pleased that he had actually given Teyla something concrete in the way of guidance, Stephen asked how she was faring in her other training.  Though she maintained that she would have no need for the physical defensive skills when she returned to Hadeeth, she admitted she was impressed watching the Masters of those disciplines at work—and that she felt every moment of her own workouts in the aching muscles that followed in the aftermath.

“Oh yes, they can hurt like hell the first week or so,” he laughed, “But I guarantee you’ll feel fitter than you have in your whole life by the end of the second.”   

Eventually, their conversation made its way back to the subject of her studies with Stephen.  “The texts I’ve read so far--I have to admit that they’ve left me curious, Teyla.  Would you mind telling me what it’s like?”

“The…the dreams?”  She seemed surprised he had asked so plainly.

“Yes.  How do they work, exactly?”

Her face scrunched and her eyes took on a faraway look as she considered how to answer.  “The dreams have always been with me, as…as far back as my memory goes.  As a child, I had no idea they were any different from the dreams of others—and so I found no need to speak of them aloud.”

Quietly, Stephen prompted her, “So when did you realize that they were different?”

Teyla’s voice and manner grew solemn as her recollection came to life.  “I was…hmmm…seven years of age.  Seven Earth years.  And I had dreamed a dream for three nights straight—of my closest friend, Meandra.  It was a simple dream, and I had no inclination to question it.”  She closed her eyes, enrapt in the pictures her mind created.  “Meandra slept beneath a midnight, moonlit sky.  Fast asleep; she lay upon a bed of moss beside a small creek.”  Her mouth drew into a small, fleeting smile.  “My child’s mind believed the dream arose from anticipation of a nature walk our teacher had promised to us.  I would never have guessed it was a dream of warning.”

“Teyla,” he murmured, “Whatever happened, I’m sure you shouldn’t have blamed yourself.”

She sighed and looked back to him.  “Child that I was, it could not be helped.  When Meandra wandered away from the group, nobody noticed until we prepared to leave the forest.  The adults searched well into the night, but found no sign of her.  We all feared that she was lost to us.”

Stephen remained silent, considering the weight of guilt she may have borne, and at so tender an age.  Seeing his concern, Teyla shook her head, “No, good Doctor, it was not a fatal loss—though if I had been less afraid, I might have ended everyone’s woes all the sooner.”  She shrugged, and cast her eyes away shamefully, “Through a bitter night, I struggled with my fear that a simple word of warning might have spared Meandra losing her way.  And even worse, I fretted that through my dreams, I had worked some sort of dark magic as I slept, which might have cost my friend her life.”

Compelled by sympathy, Stephen took her hand—gingerly, for the continuing discomfort in his own.  “You were just a girl; surely no one could expect more of you,” he reminded her, “I hope someone was wise enough to tell you so.”

“Indeed,” she nodded, “With the dawn, I sought my mother out, and revealed my dreadful secret.  She bid me wait but a little, so that she could give the searchers a description of where Meandra might be found—and when she returned to me, she gave me only love and comfort.”  Teyla’s pretty eyes were soft with that memory.  “Meandra was not too worse for wear, and was swiftly reunited with her family.  And after I had rested a while—still afraid to sleep, lest I might dream dreadfully—Mother explained the nature of my gift.  She called it a blessing, and told me it promised a noble destiny if I could learn to use it for the good of my people.”

Resisting the urge to tell Teyla that laying such a charge on a seven year old was extremely poor parenting, Stephen ventured a guess, “I suppose she feels you’ve come of age to fulfill that destiny?”    

“Even so,” she admitted, “But know, good Doctor, that this is my hope as well.”

“Of course,” he told her, “I would expect no less.”  Strange withdrew his hand from hers, beginning to gather up the few materials which he now judged too elementary for Teyla to find of use.  He winced as he lifted one of the heavier volumes, cursing under his breath as he lost his grip and it landed on the table; the thud echoed through the quiet of the library.

Teyla met his eyes for only seconds, but he read her clear understanding in that brief moment, before she looked to his hands.  There was no hiding the tremor in them, but he tried to make light of the moment; sighing with feigned exasperation, “I need to remember this sort of heavy reading requires both hands to be effective.”  His self-deprecation fell short of lightening the moment.

“It is the rain, is it not,” she asked cautiously, although Stephen was sure she knew the answer already.  Teyla’s eyes lingered once again upon his hands, as though committing the network of scars to memory.

“Yes,” he shrugged, downplaying the degree of his discomfort, “Nature’s little way of keeping me humble.”

“Yet the magic you have worked with them is already legend among the students here.”  She smiled at his surprise, “Did you not know?”

Stephen clucked his tongue, “Yeah…well…legends are usually half exaggeration anyway.  At least here on Earth.  You should take those stories with a grain of salt, Teyla.”

“As you wish, Doctor Strange—but their unstinting admiration of your deeds is genuine.”  Demurely, she cast her eyes away and added, “A true hero I have heard you called; one who single-handedly battled one of the darkest forces in the multi-verse.”

Stephen waved her praise off (the simple movement enough to set the joints in that hand throbbing again), “Honestly, Teyla—I only did what any Master here would do if faced with such a catastrophic threat.”

The tilt of her head and her sympathetic little smile spoke her response well enough, leaving Strange feeling a bit self-conscious.  Standing up to leave, he would have changed the subject, but that she asked after his hands again.  Irritated at her dogged attention to his private pain, he tried his best to answer impassively, “I appreciate your concern, Teyla of Hadeeth, but this is a topic I’d rather not discuss.”

“Forgive me please, Doctor Strange.  I would not, for all the world, bring you further pain in this regard.”  Teyla bit her lip, looking uncertain for several moments.  “Please, do not be angry—but as we have discussed my dreams—and as I am under your tutelage in this regard--there is something I must share with you.”  

Between the fresh flare of pain in both his hands—and Teyla’s seeming obsession with his wounds—Stephen’s patience was nearly frayed; he inhaled sharply, “What must you share, that cannot wait for another day?”

The young woman from another world blinked several times, her eyes misted over with unshed tears.  “It is only that…that…”

“Yes,” he asked through gritted teeth.

“I have dreamt of your hands, Doctor.  And not only since I arrived at Kamar-Taj.”  Visibly trembling, Teyla rose from her seat, to face him squarely across the cold distance between them, “I have dreamt your hands many times over, from the day I came to Earth to live with my father…and in the ten Earth years since.”

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[bodyalive]

Illustration by Monica Garwood

* * * *

From The New York Times Well newsletter

By Carolyn Todd Feb. 9, 2024

Of the thousands of self-help books on the market, which ones are truly helpful? “It’s uncommon to find a self-help book that feels different,” said Vienna Pharaon, a marriage and family therapist in New York City.

But genuinely useful titles abound. The best of the genre invite reflection or offer practical tools to promote emotional, psychological or spiritual well-being. And there are some that therapists personally turn to or suggest to their patients.

“Almost every therapist I know has a whole list of self-help books to recommend,” said Daniel Tomasulo, a counseling psychologist and the academic director of the Spirituality Mind Body Institute at Teachers College, Columbia University.

When sorting through the self-help stacks, who better to help than mental health professionals? We asked seven to share their picks.

1. "The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World," by the Dalai Lama, Desmond Tutu with Douglas Abrams

How do we experience joy in the face of personal and collective suffering? The Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu spent five days reflecting on their own lives to answer that question, and they compiled their stories and guidance in this 2016 book.

“The Book of Joy” is an opportunity to learn from two spiritual leaders in an intimate, accessible way, said Sona Dimidjian, director of the Renée Crown Wellness Institute at the University of Colorado Boulder.

Through their dialogue, which is punctuated with laughter and tears, the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Tutu teach readers how to cultivate joy and work through difficulties like illness and despair. Dr. Dimidjian recommends the book to “anyone who is feeling overwhelmed by the realities of our world and daily life today,” she said.

2. "The Happiness Trap: How to Stop Struggling and Start Living," by Russ Harris

This book, first published in 2007, teaches you to accept your negative thoughts and feelings as they arise, instead of resisting or being consumed by them — a refreshing approach known as acceptance and commitment therapy.

Diana Garcia, a South Florida-based therapist, says this easy-to-read primer made her “first fall in love” with ACT. She has clients use the book as a supplement to their sessions and recommends it to friends who are feeling stuck. It teaches you how to keep taking actions that move you in a positive direction regardless of how you’re feeling, she explained.

3. "Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion," by Gregory Boyle

Gregory Boyle is a Jesuit priest who founded Homeboy Industries, a rehabilitation and re-entry program for former gang members. His 2011 book is a collection of real, raw stories about people he worked with and the lessons we can all draw from their experiences.

“Each chapter reads like a Sunday sermon to be savored and meditated upon,” said Jacob Ham, director of the Center for Child Trauma and Resilience at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai. While faith is woven throughout the book, Dr. Ham recommends the title to anyone who feels “that their traumas and all the ways they’ve coped with them have left them broken and unredeemable.”

4. "The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity," by Julia Cameron

This 1992 workbook from Julia Cameron, a teacher and author, is a 12-week guide to recovering your sense of childlike creativity. And it’s not just for artists and writers, said Britt Frank, a trauma specialist in Kansas.

“Of all of the books I have ever used with clients, this one has the most staying power,” she said. “Because everyone is creative, and creativity is medicine.”

For years, Ms. Frank has returned to the book’s tools — like the “morning pages,” a stream-of-consciousness journaling practice. And she uses “The Artist’s Way” when treating clients with issues like depression and addiction. But skimmers beware, Ms. Frank cautioned: “It’s not a book you read. It’s a book you work.”

5. "Homecoming: Healing Trauma to Reclaim Your Authentic Self, by Thema Bryant

Thema Bryant is a trauma therapist, ordained minister and professor who offers a “distinctive lens on health, hope and healing trauma,” said Ayanna Abrams, a psychologist in Atlanta.

Drawing on her clinical work, spirituality and personal recovery from trauma, Dr. Bryant shares stories, reflections and exercises in this 2022 title. She helps people believe in their capacity to heal, Dr. Abrams explained. Dr. Bryant also avoids the “gimmicky, bypassing or vague” language that so many self-help books lean on, she added.

6. "The Power of Character Strengths: Appreciate and Ignite Your Positive Personality," by Ryan M. Niemiec and Robert E. McGrath

This 2019 guide helps people recognize, honor and nurture their brightest qualities, Dr. Tomasulo said. The idea of cultivating your “character strengths” comes from positive psychology, which centers on promoting well-being, he explained. “It’s about moving from focusing on ‘what’s wrong’ to ‘what’s strong.’”

People who lean into their character strengths tend to be happier, Dr. Tomasulo said. This book, he explained, is a good pick for “people who are doing OK, but want to have more joy and well-being in their life.”

[Follies of God]

[quillofspirit]

More horses!

It's only fair that Marilyn also gets a horse. Everyone should have a horse! Still slowly making my way through everything @esta-elavaris has written, but this should be the last one for her OCs (until there's more 👀)

A Chestnut Anglo-arabian mare. Hear me out: equine therapy. Marilyn must have heard about it, and maybe at one point she finds a nice looking stable offering day-rides, and maybe she wants to get some fresh air and it’s not that far from her flat and— Anyway, she loved it, she also found that her knee didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. She found herself wanting to go back, loving the warm and calm energy of the horses and their soft noses.

One of her acquaintances noticed her interest and offered to give her informal lessons with her own horse, a retired show-jumping mare. Her friend tried explaining that mares have a reputation for being hormonal and difficult to work with, and that Chestnut horses tended to be more chaos-prone than others.

Hormonal, she could understand, especially if they were surrounded by idiot young stallions when she had been a multiple time national winner. The colour? She was reserving judgment on that one.

When she met Brimstone, she was taken aback by her fiery coat and temperament. Her friend showed her how to brush the mare, and Marilyn hesitated only a little before finding the activity incredibly meditative. As she learned to pick the hoof, she felt a little nip on her butt, and let out a yelp before standing back. She was shocked to see the argument between her friend and the mare, never before thinking there could be such a thing. Although her friend insisted on finishing, Marilyn persevered and managed to not get bitten anymore even as Brimstone kept a upset face.

Over time, she found herself offering to help her friend care for Brimstone, and slowly learning how to ride. She wasn’t planning on starting competitions, but she did like the idea of being able to canter in the forest and jump over fallen trees with her friend by her side. Plus it kept her in shape. She learned that Brimstone was possibly the most inquisitive horse in the stable, always wanting to understand new things, like new boots or new gloves (which she threw across the hall. To test their durability of course). She also didn’t bolt at things, unlike the other horses, she stood her ground and investigated. Marilyn grew to love that mare, and understood exactly why her friend loved her horse.

Eventually, her friend mentioned that she was looking for a new horse with which to enter competitions, but the cost of both horses were just a little over her budget. They decided to split the boarding for Brimstone, so Marilyn would have a leisure horse.

“Hell hath no fury like a chestnut mare"

So this got away from me a little, but I was motivated. It didn't come as easily as the others, since the concept didn't lend itself that well, but like Marilyn, I persevered!

I will be doing more of these when inspiration strikes, worry not, though I will -eventually- start on adding horses to many universes.

Image sources, from top to bottom, left to right:

Carina Maiwald

Carina Maiwald

New York Ballet's A Midsummer Night's Dream, Frederick Ashtons' article

Find the Facebook post here

Yvonne Strahovski in Chuck (S04 E14)

Ron Kimball on KimballStock

Photo by Raphael Schaller on Unsplash

Carina Maiwald

Photo by Mikayla Storms on Unsplash

[iztarshi]

While what Rise chose to do with Splinter is in conversation with the tmnt concept of Splinter in general I think Rise Splinter is specifically both similar to and counterpoint to 87 Splinter.

Both attain a prestigious position (movie star/head of the Foot clan) which they lose due to betrayal by someone they trusted (Big Mama/Splinter's student Oroku Saki) reducing them eventually to a state of isolation where they befriend rats (Big Mama's cell/New York sewers). They immediately take to some cute turtles and concern for the turtles leads to them getting mutated (destroying Draxum's lab/simply trying to get toxic goo off them) and leaves them responsible for young turtle mutants.

They are not good fathers.

They love their turtles immensely. 87 Splinter gives up his chance to return to being human to protect them. Rise Splinter was ready to give up the whole world.

They are also frequently absent, cryptic, sometimes unexpectedly strict, and not good at responding to emotional teenagers with comfort.

They are depressed and dysphoric, stuggling with becoming rat mutants on top of suddenly being responsible for children, and it leaves them withdrawn.

Rise Splinter is in some ways an opposite to 87 Splinter. 87 Splinter is quiet, refined and wise. Rise Splinter is loud, crude and silly.

This lets Rise ask the question: what if Splinter's behaviours weren't coded as wise? What if he was unavailable to his children because he was constantly watching TV rather than constantly meditating? What if barely interacting with the turtles for days and then demanding they drop plans to clean now was treated as a rug pull? What if teaching the turtles a lesson by frightening them wasn't wrapped in tropes about ninja spirit and was just kind of weird?

The other thing Rise asks is: what if the turtles, and by extension the audience, expected Splinter to be a father? The 87 turtles didn't really have a turtle tots stage. Splinter only calls them his sons in very emotional moments and they never call him their father. He's their teacher and they're grateful for that. There's never the tension that would come from them expecting more of him, even when he goes on meditation retreats leaving them alone for days on end.

But he's still the only adult they've got.

[robertogreco]

I saw William Kentridge’s The Refusal of Time (2012) at SFMoMA in 2016 and went back several times to take friends there to see it too. Here’s an interview with him on the Louisiana Channel about the installation:

How can we get a hold of time with our body and mind? This question is the crux of South African artist William Kentridge’s immersive installation ’The Refusal of Time.’ Join the artist for a detailed tour of his pulsing, breathtaking work. ‘The Refusal of Time,’ 2012, is an immersive installation and a meditation on time, space and the complex legacies of colonialism and industry. A multi layered work packed to the brim with references - to early cinematic history, and the science and philosophy of time and images - the work combines visually seductive imagery, sculptural objects, megaphones and sound. ”It’s not a scientific lesson in time,” explains the artist. “But it uses the metaphors scientists use when they’re doing their deepest thinking about time.” Therefore references to Einstein’s theory of relativity and figures like black holes - “a space in which everything disappears, a way of talking about death” - feature throughout the work. Kentridge uses cinema as ”an artistic, mechanical and optical means of playing with time,” to show time materialized. Cinema can slow time down, replay it, hold it, run it backwards, and by employing these techniques of making time visible, the work shows time, and essentially the trudge of a human life, as “a series of predictable, unremarkable actions that continue until we are worn out.” But within that frame there are also refusals says Kentridge. “Those moments of coherence, of understanding and changing the world, which is the most we can hope for.” Fragmented and futile in its story telling, ‘The Refusal of Time’ also references the painful histories of colonial wars and anti-colonial revolts in the context of time. In the colonial era the imposition of European time in the colonies was a means of control, Kentridge explains. “The resistance towards time became a metaphor for other kinds of resistance towards other forms of political control.” “In the end” – the artist says polemically – ”the project isn’t really about time. It’s much more about to what extent do we escape our fate? To what extent are we heading towards our fate whether we like it or not? Can we change the world on our way or is this all illusory?” William Kentridge (b. 1955) is a South African filmmaker, draughtsman, and sculptor. He has produced both animation, set design and sculpture as directing operas at the Metropolitan Opera in New York, USA, and the Royal Opera House in London, UK. His work has been shown around the world, e.g. at dOKUMENTA 10, 11 and 13 Kassel, Germany, the 1999 Venice Biennial, Italy, the Metropolitan Museum and the Museum of Modern Art, New York, USA, the Louvre, Paris, France, and Louisiana Museum of Modern Art, Denmark. Kentridge’s work is held in numerous private collections worldwide and he is the recipient of many prestigious awards such as the 1999 Carnegie Medal, the 2010 Kyoto Prize and the 2013 Commandeur des Arts et des Lettres. William Kentridge's installation 'The Refusal of Time' is a collaboration with composer Philip Miller, filmmaker Catherine Meyburgh & Peter Galison, professor of the history of science and of physics at Harvard University. The work is part of the exhibition ’Thick Time’, at the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art, 16 February – 18 June, 2017. William Kentridge’s installation is also part of the Louisiana Collection. This video also features extracts from 'Making Time', 2011, a film about the making of 'The Refusal of Time', filmed and edited by Catherine Meyburgh. William Kentridge was interviewed Christian Lund in the installation of ‘The Refusal of Time’, at the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art, in February 2017.

See also the page for the installation on Kentrige’s website and the page on the Louisiana Museum website.

[squirrellypoo]

30 is just the beginning

I've recently seen a few people lamenting turning 30. I guess it hits differently when you're told at 29 that you're unlikely to live to see 31, but gazing back at that time from where I sit in my mid-40s I'm struck by the sheer amount of shit I've accomplished since 30. I'm sure conquering death had something to do with lighting a fire under my ass, but seriously, you can achieve SO much more than you ever thought possible.

I started compiling this list for myself and I'm choosing to share it now, not as a "look what I've done!" bragging exercise, but as a way to remind myself that I'm capable of doing epic shit.

And that we are ALL capable of change, growth, and adventure no matter what our age. Your thirties don't have to be about settling down or settling for.

In my 20s, I:

Studied abroad

Eurorailed around Europe for 6 weeks

Survived meningitis (the first time)

Graduated with an Hon BSc

Moved to a different country

Met my bestie

Started my dream job

Started running

Started sewing

Was on the front page of the New York Times

Had my first boyfriends (got dumped by one checking himself into a mental hospital in another country)

Got paid to work backstage at Glastonbury several times

Went to literally thousands of gigs

Met/interviewed Trent Reznor

Met my future husband

Bought a home

Got a cat

Lost 50+ pounds

Started a pension

Became seriously ill and was told I had months to live unless I underwent a risky procedure

Froze embryos

In my 30s, I:

Was saved from certain death by medical science (chemo ain't so bad)

Grew a new blood type

Survived meningitis, shingles, swine flu, and a constant stream of flu

Had all my childhood vaccinations… again.

Married my husband

Appeared on a BBC cooking show

Joined a running crew

Started my own business

Worked behind-the-scenes on a popular tv show

Had laser eye surgery

Wrote my first book

Ran my first half marathon (& then countless others)

Ran my first marathon (& then 7 more including 3 Boston Qualifiers)

Ran an accidental ultra in Transylvania

Had my face on a billboard and in a bunch of banks

Became undefeated GB & world champion on the track (multiple times - 16 golds for GB)

Cycled my first century (& then 2 more)

Started a pension

Started therapy

Started regular meditation

In my 40s, I:

Finished a 15 year home renovation

Shielded (couldn’t leave home) for 14 months in the pandemic

Having the best sex of my life

Broke 2 more world records and retained my world champion status on the track

Mourned a father & grandfather

Started swimming lessons for the first time since childhood

Received my first ever bonus check

Completed my first multisport race

…7 more years to go??

Frankly, I can't wait to see what my 50s, 60s, 70s and 80s have in store if my first 40-odd years have been so endlessly interesting. Happy birthday.

(Each of these is absolutely true, btw, and I'm happy to clarify/expand on these if you want to ask in the comments or using the Ask Me on my page)

[rhythmicmeow]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Mansión Mexicana PARTIES: Metzli @muertarte and Leticia @rhythmicmeow SUMMARY: Leticia comes to Metzli's home for her first lesson in controlling the balam. CONTENT WARNINGS: implied emotional abuse (past)

It was always a bargain meeting new people. Under normal circumstances, Leticia would’ve been ignored, never to even be glanced at again. She said she needed help, that she feared the spirit in her could one day cause some very real damage. That was enough to convince Metzli to at least give her a chance. It wasn’t so bad, they thought. Given that they’d set certain boundaries, Leticia had actually taken to adhering to them. She sat quietly with them, doing her best to find her center—a little piece of safety within her mind.

Push came to shove, she apparently had some failsafe, but she had yet to reveal what exactly that was. It didn’t really matter to Metzli. They were focused on utilizing only herself and discovering what snapped her mind into releasing the spirit within her. Didn’t really seem like much would set her off, anyway. Metzli didn’t know Leticia well, but they knew what rigidity was. That was their constant state of being. Something was weighing down every fiber of Leticia, and they needed to pick at it. Rip off the scab so the wound could be exposed to the burning air. 

“You are upset.” Metzli finally broke the silence, opening their eyes to reveal the crimson behind their lids. “Does it make your Balam spirit want to burst out?”

-

Guilt was at the surface of her thoughts. At first, it had exclusively been guilt about what Leticia had done - but now it was sitting next to Metzli and pretending like she hadn’t just murdered someone like them. The guilt of pretending to be a good person. And shame at becoming the very monster she had been so proud of not being. There was no blame to be placed anywhere but on Leticia’s shoulders. 

Metzli spoke and Leticia squeezed her eyes, begging them to stay shut and not look directly at them. “I thought this was a less-talking situation.” Irritation touched the edges of her voice, and a new wave of guilt hit. Metzli didn’t deserve that. They were trying to help. 

Exhaling deeply, she opened her eyes, bowing her head to focus on the ground in front of her. “I am upset,” Leticia confirmed, but shook her head at the following question. She was distressed, but not to the point she had been in New York. This place, tucked away in the forest, was calming. There were no flashing lights, there was no one to judge her for her failures other than Metzli and they couldn’t if they didn’t know the full story. Lifting her head, she glanced in the other’s direction, knowing that she should say something. The whole point of this was to learn how to control the spirit. Metzli needed ammo. This wouldn’t work otherwise. “I…” Leticia steeled her nerves, forcing herself to speak. “I killed someone. Not as the spirit but as me.” 

-

Well, Leticia wasn’t wrong in her statement. She’d even been told to not talk too much, and yet she wasn’t even the one who broke the silence. The two were supposed to be meditating, and yet Metzli had failed to do so. They worried the inside of their cheek and straightened their posture even further—if that was actually possible. Metzli always had awkwardly rigid posture, not leaving any room for the smallest sign of a slump.

“You are right.” Metzli began to rock back and forth, their fingers twirling in a rogue curl. A common stim for them when they were feeling something negative. “If I upset you more, I am sorry.” Their voice was robotic, albeit slightly shaky. “Maybe it is good if I did, though. Does that have sense?” They looked toward the sky, continuing to twist their hair repeatedly as they listened to what Leticia had to say. 

“You…killed someone? Did the spirit come out after?” Metzli tilted their head curiously, eyes wide but devoid of any real emotion. Killing was a normal part of their life. Hell, they often enjoyed committing the act. Especially when the victim had been a forger. Metzli tried to recall their first kill—it had been a neighbor, and they had no control. How did they feel after? What were they denied when they sought comfort? That was an easy answer. 

“You have guilt, yes? Are you…okay?”

-

Glancing at Metzli, Leticia found herself frowning now. The anger she had felt... she knew it should be directed inward. Her own actions upset her, there was no reason to snap at the very people who were trying to help her. “Don’t do that. Don’t apologize.” Leticia swallowed further self-deprivation. “I should be apologizing to you. You’re helping.” 

Slipping into a slouched posture, Leticia shook her head. The balam had been so loud in the moments before and then silent after. “She abandoned me.” She could still feel the spirit ever present in her mind, but Leticia didn’t dare call her forward. “That’s not right, it’s not fair... I wasn’t alone. I was with a friend. He doesn’t know what I am. It was for the best.” Closing her eyes, she rubbed at her temples, trying to make sense of what happened. In the aftermath of what happened, she had felt empty. Overwhelmingly empty. Like a void had opened in her chest and pulled all meaning out of her previous emotions.  

Had the numbness protected her from transforming?  

Are you okay? 

They were such simple words, and at first, Leticia looked at Metzli and offered a thin smile. Forced and sloppy and unlike anything she had tried to fake before. Her bottom lip trembled first and she quickly looked away, looking upward, trying to breathe through the sudden burst of emotion. “I should be. He was going to kill us,” she rationalized. “I’m alive and he’s dead. I’m fine.” 

-

Taking a life wasn’t supposed to be easy. There were memories, a personality, a whole person that was erased from the world, unable to be brought back. Stories untold and stories never to be created, simply gone. There was an insurmountable weight to a death, and Metzli hadn’t felt it since they began to fulfill the purposes Eloy had given them. And yet…their heart bended for Leticia in that moment. 

“When I kill for the first time, I feel same like you.” Metzli’s breath hitched, and they drummed their fingers on their thigh as they attempted to string their thoughts together into proper sentences. “I was changed. Could not…” Their brows furrowed, “Could not control my hunger. Three people die. And it hurt. I did bad thing. I hurt them. But it-it hurt. Like maybe…” Metzli paused, massaging what was left of their arm to soothe their anxieties. “…I was not self anymore.” 

Lives ended, tales no longer able to be written, stopped abruptly by a hand they recognized. How was that fair? Metzli thought about that for weeks after, guilty over the fact that their story continued. They felt none of that anymore. Killing was second nature to them at that point. “You are not bad because you did bad thing, Leticia.” Finally, Metzli looked toward their companion, expression somber and warm. Kind. “Bad thing hurts because you are good. Is good thing you feel this way. You are not monster.” Not like Metzli. She was lucky to feel such guilt. They envied her in a way. Not that they’d let on to that fact. 

-

Leticia fell silent once more. Feeling guilty for entirely new reasons now. She had never felt this way before. Most of her adult life had been a carefully polished persona that had been meant for the stage. She had always had guidance for how she was supposed to react, a team that would hold her up when things had gotten out of hand. Wicked’s Rest was the first place where she could breathe and simply exist as herself. But in the same freedom she had found here, she had made a devastating choice. 

Metzli managed to encompass everything that Leticia felt in a few short sentences. Looking toward her newfound friend, she managed a sad smile. Understanding. “I’ve had moments where I felt out of control.” she confessed. “But never like this.” Not even when she was fleeing the stage when the balam had been pulled out by the flashing lights and excitement. “I’ve never felt further from the person I want to be than I do now.” 

Their words directly challenged every thought that had been haunting their mind. Reminiscent of the very words that Leticia had shared with Nora. They weren’t monsters for existing as they did. But she had been quick to weaponize that word against herself in the moments immediately after. She wiped under her eyes and took in an unsteady breath. “Sorry,” she choked out. “You don’t have to answer… but when did you feel like you again?” Did guilt ever turn into acceptance? Or was numbness the future she was wandering toward? 

-

“Control is only something we have for self. And there are times when things have do not give enough control that we cannot control if outcome is positive. You will do wrong because of this. And…” Metzli’s gaze became distant, focused on the ground in front of them as they allowed their mind to tumble off their tongue. No thinking to create a barricade, just thought becoming sound. “You will not always be right. You will not always be wrong. The only thing that is always right is to keep learning. Let go of idea of control. You will not have it if you force it. It comes with breath.” They inhaled slowly, a small demonstration. “You are blind by fear and search.” 

That was the funny part about all of this. Leticia was looking so hard for control that she was losing it in the array of desperation. The only thing that would vindicate her would be to sacrifice her pride and not look for control. Accept that she can only exist and react, and be grateful that she did something good in the process of something that seemed so heinous. In their world, killing was a natural part. Fighting against it would only lead to uncontrollable anguish, and wasn’t Leticia looking for control? She would only find herself again if she would allow herself to take a breath and release the fog. She was still there.

“I…I never feel like me, but that is…that is different. Master control me for a hundred-thirty years. Only feel what he wanted me to. He made me…” Metzli closed their eyes, taking a deep breath. “Monster. Could not breathe. Could-could not have control. Ever. He tell me to bite, I bite. He tell me to kill, I kill. But…but no more. I have control. I breathe.” Another breath, brows creased together with an air of relief. They were free. “Our world is not like humans. People want to kill us and people will die. We stand between people we love and people who hate. All we can do is react.”

-

They were providing Leticia the guidance she needed so desperately, but each word hurt. The life she had lived up until Wicked’s Rest had demanded perfection. Her mother had been the first one to remind her on her way to school that she needed to have control over her emotions as to not lose control in public. And her father had always been the one to encourage her to exist as a kid. Her life had been balanced until she left them behind for the stage. Between the workload she took on and the mounting pressures to do more, the control over her life had become so tight that she could barely breathe. 

Breathing in as Metzli did, Leticia found her breath shallow and uneven. Still giving way to all the emotion she had been drowning in. “I was never allowed that,” she admitted, not looking at Metzli this time. “There was no option other than perfect.” And so, that’s what she was. Thirty years of being exactly who she was supposed to be and acting the way she was told. But she had as much to gain from it as those around her. And she enjoyed being liked. Even if most of her life was seen through rose-colored glasses, Leticia didn’t hate that part of her life. “I liked it, you know? People liked me when I was like that.” And that, perhaps, was closer to the problem that Leticia refused to address. 

Inhaling deeply again, she tried to mimic what Metzli had done earlier on her own this time. Listening to their story as she practiced breathing. “It’s…” Her breathing hitched again and Leticia closed her eyes tightly. “It’s never going to be the same, is it?” She was still tightly holding onto that idea that she knew was impossible, the dream that she’d just open her eyes after all this breathing and magically be that person she had been before the alley. And before she knew what Emilio was. “We can’t always be perfect.” Metzli had given her bite-sized pieces but Leticia still had difficulty swallowing them. “I always understood why other people killed,” she finally said. “It’s just not something I ever saw for myself.” 

-

The more Leticia spoke, the easier it was to understand. People were so complex and had so much depth that it was often the way it all tangled together that made Metzli unable to read. They constantly tripped and fell in the process of running through what made a person. If it weren’t for the way Leticia found her voice, using it as an art to paint a picture vivid enough for Metzli to critique. It started out muddy and chaotic, soon taking shape with defined lines and blended shadows. Each shade growing darker until something akin to what was on display at the gallery lay before them.

“No, it will never be the same.” Metzli replied, opening and closing their hand in front of them. They stared at each crease, at each scar that made themselves permanent residents. No, nothing could be the same. Currents were meant to move along, ebbing and flowing in response to nature and its energies. Metzli knew this to be a bittersweet reality. As someone who hated change, they knew it was inevitable. Sure, they’d have a fit, but then it would pass. They wanted to promise that to Leticia. She didn’t need to fear so much. “We do not know future, but we do know we have choices. Sometimes they will be painful to make, but we have to look at what these choices mean. You protected a friend. You kept them safe.”

Good or bad, the ability to have a choice was there, and it was futile to get caught in the what-ifs. Because regardless, that was the experience of living, of being a person. Metzli looked at Leticia, eyes sincere, “What you choose shows what you stand up for–shows what-what you are against. And this one says you stand against letting your friend die. Take this and stand tall. Stand…firm. Not many people have power inside to-to…to protest death without curling into something weak.” Metzli paused, blinking to themself for rambling so much. They just wanted to fix whatever it was that bended Leticia’s heart the same way theirs did all those decades ago. “Give apology. Not very good at this, but I want to help.”

-

The heavy feeling in her chest that pulled her body into a slumping position next to Metzli, Leticia’s eyes on the ground as her hands found their way to different objects. Grass and sticks and dirt, anything that felt like something other than the grime she felt crawling on her skin. How did she pull herself up from this? How could she look at herself in the mirror and say that the self-inflicted punishment she had been so eager to carry out on herself had been more than enough and she could stop.  

Or was forcing this self-acceptance another form of torture, telling herself that it was selfish to keep wallowing in emotions that everyone told her didn’t need to be pushing down on her shoulders? They had all been kinder with their words, but every action that Leticia took, and the action she didn’t, felt like another wrong she was committing against the people around her. That vampire could have very well been a younger version of the friend who sat down next to her now, they could have turned their life around, they could have been different. And all those possibilities had been snuffed out at her own hand. And then she emptied her secrets into the night air as if that confession would clear her mind of the emotions she had been drowning in.  

“You’re very wise,” Leticia offered, running a finger under her eye before forcing herself to sit up straight again. Every word that Metzli had spoken felt right. If she had watched Emilio die, she would have been hurting in an entirely different way, and her inaction would have likely cost more people their lives. There was no leaving that alley feeling good about herself. But there was no reason to give up her entire future based on a singular moment. “I would have hated myself no matter what I did in that alley. Standing to the side would have been...” worse. By any stretch of the imagination. But the word died in her throat as she inhaled deeply. The anger she had directed toward herself was finally untangling. The grief, however, remained. “I don’t make it easy,” Leticia offered with a wry smile. “But you are helping. A lot. I...” Her expression fell as she shook her head. “I don’t know what I need anymore. Feels like I don’t know anything at all.” 

-

Not many had the strength to sit with their guilt and mull over decisions, or the what-ifs. Stand as the terrors followed and haunted, with no end in sight. More than anyone though, Metzli understood this, and they extended themself to Leticia so she wouldn’t have to weather everything alone and under an iron first, the way they were forced to. For the vampire, they were forged in the furnace of their twisted youth, smelted with rage and hatred, all pity ruined by a lifetime of pain. This didn’t have to be the case for Leticia, and Metzli was determined to make that so. 

“Grief will stay and that is okay. It is…” A pause and a wrinkle of thought, “It is your heart saying it works. That you have empathy and understand the…the…” The English word was eluding Metzli, so they hoped Leticia would understand their Spanish. “La gravedad of what happen.” They offered a hint of a smile to their new friend, happy to see that despite them not fixing everything, they still managed to help. All their experience with pain and death was paying off. 

“What you need is time and patience. And maybe some kindness.” Rising to their feet, Metzli walked over to where Leticia was sitting and took her hand in theirs. They wasted no time in pulling her up and into them. If they had, they likely would have backed out. Metzli knew their new friend needed the comfort though, so they persisted. “We don’t know everything all the time, and this is okay. Let heart grieve and take moments as they come.” Metzli gave Leticia one firm and final squeeze, pulling away as they looked at the sky to avoid eye contact. “This is all you can do. Let go of control so you can find it again.”

-

Metzli had been all but a stranger up until this point, and Leticia couldn’t help but wonder why it had been so easy to tell them everything so quickly. But she could have been happier with the decision she had made. They understood her, and not only that, they extended not just advice but kindness. Kindness that Leticia hadn’t given herself. And this wasn’t even why she had shown up. This had been about practicing her control, and the full lesson was that she needed to loosen that grip and allow herself to breathe. 

Leticia looked at her hands, stretched her fingers and wondered if she could do that. She would try. And hopefully, trying would be enough. “It sounds much better the way you put it,” she replied gently, a faint smile finally forming at the corner of her lips. It sounded less like she had failed, and more like she was still herself. That she might not be perfectly the same, but she didn’t have to be the broken thing she imagined. She didn’t have to be bad. Remorse was the proof she was still herself.

Pulled to her feet, Leticia didn’t have a chance to think before she was wrapped up Metzli’s arm. “Damn it,” she whispered before sniffling. “I thought I was done.” But she held her breath and buried her head in Metzli’s shoulder. Letting herself to accept the the physical comfort that had been offered. They pulled away and Leticia stayed close by. “Thank you. And… I promise I’m not always like this. I didn’t mean to drop all of this on you.” But they had helped in the way intended. Maybe this control thing was the key to the balam as well. Loosening her grip so she could regain it. The road forward wasn’t an easy one, but it was clearer now. “It’s not the same as others but.. if I can ever return the favor — I owe you one.” 

-

Metzli chuckled, the sound jarring and foreign coming from them. They shook their head and took a deep breath, finally making eye contact with Leticia. “I have done many bad things and I am trying to be good now. No repayment. Please.” There was a gentle smile on Metzli’s face as they bowed their head, their chest warm with joy at successfully helping Leticia. 

In spite of Eloy’s icy grip, it held no candle to Metzli’s true nature. That brightened their smile further, a rare sight for anyone to behold. “Lesson one is over then, yes? It can be like this sometimes, but maybe not always. That would mean lessons are not working.”

-

“Alright, nothing owed,” Leticia agreed. But perhaps friends. But saying it felt like a formality that neither of them needed. It was a lot shared, and more vulnerability than Leticia was used to having with someone upon meeting them in person for the first time. But taking the chance on revealing herself to a stranger online had proven to be one of the best choices she had made thus far. 

“I’d say lesson one was a rounding success.” She returned the smile, feeling more like the person she had been in the weeks before. The relief that her father would have told her confession would have blessed her with. “Maybe next time is just meditating?” It might be nice, she thought, to give it a proper chance. And to see Metzli again. 

[flushingmeditation]

Free Meditation Lessons In New York Are Now Attended By Many!

Meditation is a practice that has been around for thousands of years and helping people relax, focus and also to find inner peace. It involves sitting quietly, closing your eyes and focusing on your breath or an exact thought. It sounds simple but meditation can bring many powerful benefits to your mind and body. And more people are practicing it today because it helps improve mental health, reduces stress and makes everyday life feel more balanced. First meditation is important because it helps reduce stress.

These meditation lessons are always handy

In this busy world, many people feel stressed out from work, school or personal life. Stress can make you feel worried and nervous and with time, it can affect your health. Meditation is a natural way to calm the mind. And when you meditate, you take time to breathe deeply and focus on the present moment. This simple act of breathing and focusing can lower your stress levels and help you feel more relaxed. With time, practicing meditation can help you handle stressful situations better and give you more control over your emotions too. Meditation lessons in New York are great way to improve mental health. In our daily lives, we have so many things going on in our minds.

Lessons are now offered by experienced meditation gurus

If you are looking for free meditation lessons in New York then you are lucky. New York is home to many great places where you can learn meditation and some even offer classes at no cost. Meditation is a great way to reduce stress, improve your mental health and also find inner peace and it is becoming more popular every day. Free meditation lessons give everyone a chance to try it without worrying about the cost.

[peaseblossom-and-cobweb]

Chapter four of my New York Christmas wolfstar fic is up!

“Soon we’re all going to meet in Park Slope for fucking guided toddler meditation or something. Not getting drunk every Thursday at Slim Joe’s.”

“We haven’t done that in months, Pete.” Dorcas said lightly. “You said drinking on weekdays activates your gout.”

“The sentiment is still there.” Peter stood, tottering on his skates unsurely. Remus got up to steady him. He looked even ganglier in his skates, towering comically above Peter.

“We aren’t moving to Park Slope Peter. Change the fucking record please.” Marlene groused, leading the pack to the skating rink with much more surety than Sirius felt. “We’re not that much of a cliche. We’d at least stay in Crown Heights.”

Sirius gripped the plastic wall with fear. Children were skating by him, and his skates suddenly seemed weak at the ankles. He took a tentative step on the ice and did not like the feeling of the world sliding under his feet.

“Need that lesson?” Remus said, suddenly beside him. The tree of a man somehow managed to be elegant in his movements, the bastard at ease. He placed a hand on Sirius’s forearm.

“Am I meant to grovel at your feet?”

“Later, if you want.” He grinned devilishly. “I’d prefer it in private though.”

[gwydionae]

Bound

A/N: Why my brain decided that now is the perfect time to start a chapter fic I do not know. I think the idea appealed to me now of all times because it's an AU where I get to play around with personalities and situations a bit more than with my typical one shot. Everyone's got their flaws and good points, unlike shorter stories where I tend to zero in on one or the other. So let's see how this goes.

Posted on fanfiction.net >here<.

Teaser: Yoshi is forever changed when he loses a son so soon after his wife and daughter. Life in the lair is far from idyllic as a father's desire to shelter his sons causes friction and rebellion. But as they are bound to him, their lost brother remains bound to others, the life he'd lost kept hidden from him. Fate tore them apart, but now it seeks to bring them together once more.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Bound: Prologue

1997 - Hamato Yoshi, age 35

New York City was meant to be a fresh start, a distancing of himself from the past both physically and mentally. But after only a few weeks, Yoshi found the weight of loneliness crushing down upon him in a country that seemed intent on reminding him that he did not belong there. The English lessons of his youth allowed him to communicate with his new neighbors, but his Japanese accent combined with his obvious heritage were often received as invitations to dismiss or even mock the simplest of requests. His landlord spoke quickly with overly flowery language to try and confuse him into paying unnecessary fees, and more than once someone had declared that they didn't speak Chinese before he had even had a chance to open his mouth.

He would have sacrificed anything to have his beloved Tang Shen and Miwa once more at his side.

The memories of the night Oroku Saki murdered his wife and daughter were always there, ready to pounce on him at the slightest provocation—a couple passing him on the street, a baby's cry, even a flickering candle would fill his mind with visions of fire and death. He was unfocused in his attempts at meditation, all efforts to clear his mind in vain. After weeks filled with nights interrupted by graphic nightmares, he knew that something had to change; he could not go on in such a state much longer. A stable mind was necessary to find and keep a job, something he desperately needed before his meager funds ran out. Something had to change.

It was on a whim that he walked into the somewhat dingy pet shop he passed every day during his morning walk. His apartment complex didn't allow cats or dogs, so he drifted toward the tanks full of colorful fish and hermit crabs. Wandering through the mess of tanks, one in particular caught his eye, one that seemed far too cramped for its current occupants.

Four baby turtles smaller than the palm of his hand sat in a rectangular glass tank that looked like it could use some cleaning. Yoshi admittedly knew very little about turtles or how to raise them, but looking at them made him feel as if he had at last stumbled upon kindred spirits, creatures that, like him, were trapped in a place they did not belong. Inquiring about them further, he was informed that they were brothers, all brought in together from the same clutch of eggs. Whether this was true or simply a marketing ploy to convince him to purchase all four of them together was of little consequence. Family by birth or by circumstance, he found himself unable to separate the small creatures from each other, purchasing the turtles, a dish to carry them home in, and a large tank with the necessary equipment and food to be delivered to his apartment that afternoon.

The toll on his wallet had been higher than he would have liked, but as he walked back out on to the street, he found the faintest of smiles gracing his face for the first time since the night of the fire. Having someone else to care for filled him with fresh determination, reigniting his appreciation for the beauty and wonder of life.

"It is my honor to be taking care of you from now on, my turtles. I shall work hard to repay this small joy that you have already given back to me tenfold."

But fate, which had already taken so much, it seemed was not through with him just yet.

The inherent wrongness he had felt from the strange man that bumped into him on his way to his apartment compelled him to follow until he took an abrupt turn down a narrow alley. As he hung back, listening to the man converse with another that could have been his identical twin, even a foreigner such as himself could tell that the cadence of their English was cold and stilted. The thick, glowing substance in the canister being handed from one to the other was cause for far greater concern, however, Yoshi having never in his life seen anything like it.

Strange men making back alley deals with unearthly chemicals at least warranted a tip off to the police, but as he kept his eyes and ears focused on the exchange, his feet disturbed a scrawny rat who bit at his ankle in surprise before racing down the alley. Between the rat's squeaks of displeasure and his own stifled cry, his eavesdropping had been uncovered. Soon he not only faced the disturbingly impassive gazes of the two men he had been spying on but two more who approached from behind, all sharing the same face. An easy escape cut off, he was left with no choice.

As his leg kicked out, his arms covered the bowl he carried protectively. It was clear these men meant to silence him, and as he fought for his freedom, he could not help the whispers in his mind shaming him for always putting those he was supposed to care for at risk. He had given in to his anger toward Saki then and his curiosity toward the strange man now. And as the canister fell from his aggressor's hands, shattering on the concrete and splattering its contents along not only the walls and street but also Yoshi himself, his cries of pain and anguish came less from the cracking and rearranging of his bones and more from the despair of the smashed bowl that had slipped his grasp.

The agony of the unnatural transformation coursing through his body momentarily distracted him. But as his form settled into its new shape, the pain ceased, leaving behind a disfigured humanoid body covered in fur, a long tail curling between his legs, and large, round ears picking up so many unique and chaotic sounds that he felt his head begin to pound from all the noise. One in particular stood out, however.

It was a cry, much like a baby's wail for their mother when they wake up at night to find themselves alone.

Prying open his strange, new eyes, Yoshi saw one of the men grasping a small, green creature by the leg, dangling it upside-down as its cries echoed through the alley. Three more just like it crawled on the ground, each covered in glowing green ooze, a turtle's shell on their backs. His eyes widened in terror.

"No!"

He was on his feet in an instant, gathering up the three turtle creatures as best he could as the man made to grab for another. Yoshi tried to fight, tried to wrench the still wailing infant from the stranger's grasp, but he was clumsy, his unfamiliar body unable to move as precisely as his former human frame, and in the end he could merely watch in horror as the man he had followed to the alley cut his losses and ran, one of the four still squirming in his arms.

Yoshi tried to give chase, but his hideous, rat-like form caused panic when spotted, and he quickly lost sight of the kidnapper. He searched for hours, cradling the three that remained of his adopted turtles to his furry chest as he ran through the alleyways and hid amongst trash, but long before his breath grew ragged, he knew it was hopeless. Fate had taken another from him.

Sneaking into his apartment through his window, he collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down his whiskered face as sobs wracked his mutated body. He would have to find somewhere else to live, somewhere safe for those that most would see as monsters. But as he felt tiny, three-fingered hands reach out to him, he opened his eyes and looked at his turtles—his sons.

"I am sorry. I meant to care for you, to keep you safe, but one brother is already lost, and it is all my fault." He gazed at them sadly, reaching out to pat their heads with his paw-like hands as they stared up at him curiously. "Our family has already been splintered, but I swear to you all that I will do whatever I can to keep the four of us together. We will live on, and your brother will not be forgotten."

________________________________________

A/N: This story has been fully outlined for years. Wish me luck!

As always, critics and grammar police appreciated!

Chapter 1 on tumblr >here<

[yogabilitymind]

Yoga and Meditation Near Me

New Yorkers are constantly on the go, but taking time out for yoga and meditation near me is a great way to decompress. From single classes to membership options, NYC is brimming with opportunities for finding your inner zen.

The Path offers both group and private meditation sessions in a supportive community setting. It also offers courses covering Buddhist teachings and immersive programs like international retreats.

The Shala Yoga

The Shala Yoga is a yoga studio that offers yoga classes and workshops. It also provides a space for yoga practitioners to come together and cultivate mindfulness. Its teachers are certified and provide quality instruction for students of all levels.

Kristin Leigh and Barbara Verrochi opened The Shala in Union Square in 2002. It expanded to Fort Greene in June 2011. It is a place where students of traditional yoga practice together, in community and support. Its offerings include daily Ashtanga and vinyasa classes, kirtans, philosophy talks, anatomy lessons, 200-hour and 300-hour teacher training, and international retreats.

Viniyoga is a system of yoga that adapts the various means and methods of practice to the unique condition, needs and interests of the student. It is based on the teachings of T.K.V. Desikachar, and it emphasizes the importance of the breath as well as alignment. It can be physically challenging, but it is a wonderful way to increase flexibility and relax.

Three Jewels

The Three Jewels is a yoga and meditation studio in New York City that teaches the ancient practice of Buddhist philosophy. It also teaches yoga and meditation as tools for lifelong peace. The studio offers a variety of classes and workshops, including guided meditations and mindfulness courses. Its teachers come from a wide range of backgrounds and are highly trained.

In Buddhism, there are three key things that a student of the teachings must do to protect themselves from karmic suffering. These are known as the Three Jewels or Triratna, and they are the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha. The Buddha represents enlightenment, the Dharma is the teachings of Buddha, and the Sangha is the community of followers of the Dharma.

Despite Roach’s scandalous behavior, many instructors at The Three Jewels continue to hold him in high regard and speak very positively of him during class. They even imply that raising the issue would bring bad karma.

Bhakti Center

The Bhakti Center is a non-profit spiritual cultural center. They offer daily yoga classes to align body and breath through movement, as well as meditation and pranayama classes to uplift the mind. They also offer trainings and retreats.

Ma teaches a variety of yoga styles, combining elements from Jivamukti, Vinyasa and Hatha Yoga. She is passionate about trauma-informed and recovery based yoga and uses the body as a tool to reconnect with one's higher power.

She is a dedicated Bhakti Yogi, and her classes are energetic, sweaty and uplifting. She encourages students to follow what feels good, and trust that they are being guided through their practice. Traditionally, bhakti is a path of loving devotion and merging with the reality of divine love. While bhakti can be focused on deities, contemporary leaders often encourage a more inclusive approach to the Divine. They emphasize the interconnectedness of all things, and ask us to be BFFs with everything that exists.

The Studio

If you're a yogi looking for a more modern experience, look no further than this cityfavorite studio. Whether you're taking a foundational Mellow Hum class or an advanced Dynamic Hum, instructors here are known for meeting students where they are at in the practice. And this isn't just a yoga studio; it also boasts a boutique that sells yoga apparel.

Y7 is one of the most popular yoga studios in Manhattan, and with good reason. Between the perfectly-curated playlists and the calming vibes, this is a space that feels restorative upon entering.

Y7 is another yoga studio that prioritizes mindfulness and meditation, making it a great option for those who want to take their practice to the next level. This studio also offers a variety of classes that will help you build strength and endurance, so be sure to try their power yoga and Yoga Sculpt classes.

[pulsdmedia]

The Week Ahead 8/25-9/1

How? How did summer go by so fast? We're all feeling the pangs of melancholy that come with the final week of August, but fear not, New Yorkers! The sun is still out, the city is still buzzing with the energy of the season, and we're still giving you the best of the best for less...

$29 Summer Spritz Series: Rooftop 3 Hour Open Bar With Food

The Amalfi Coast is calling, and Simona Rooftop is here to answer that call, all without stepping foot outside of Manhattan! Grab your $29 Ticket for admission to the Summer Spritz Series, complete with access to a 3 Hour Spritz Open Bar serving various styles of spritz cocktails, as well as 1 Fritto Misto, and 1 Dessert - hello, pistachio gelato! Eat, sip, cheers, repeat - this jewel in the sky is magnifico!

Dishoom x Pastis Pop-up

Running from August 19 to August 30, Dishoom is serving a U.S. audience for the first time. An ideal landing spot for the Indian restaurant is Pastis (52 Gansevoort Street), an iconic locale in its own right.

$29 VIP Salsa On The Roof Tickets: Open Bar, Salsa Lessons, & More

A night of Latin sounds & sultry sensations await at Elsie Rooftop! Surrender to the allure of sophisticated pink velvet touches, an opulent marble bar, a verdant garden oasis, breathtaking views, and whimsical accents at every turn as an open bar pours an abundance of libations like cocktails, brews, and exquisite wines. Each sip will build your courage as you learn how to salsa, all in preparation for a night of shimmying, shaking it, and savoring rooftop vibes galore...

Christopher Esber Sample Sale

Australian designer Christopher Esber established his eponymous brand in 2010. Harmoniously blending structured silhouettes with fluid drape, Esber subverts the notions of convention with design concepts informed by his background.

50% Off: A New York Times Critic's Pick Interactive Comedy Show

"Drink sir, is a great provoker." So is the famed line from Macbeth, and the perfect way to sum up a night at Drunk Shakespeare! Dubbed by Time Out as a “live-action Drunk History,” Drunk Shakespeare always starts the same way: classically-trained actors perform the classics with upgraded style, while one cast member downs shots of whiskey - what's next will be a complete surprise...

Join Climate Cafe for Yoga, Coffee & Snacks With Their Community

Join Climate Cafe on Governors Island for an uplifting afternoon of snacks and refreshments, meditation, and a meaningful conversation on climate emotions! Jolly Patel will be leading a yoga session for the first 30 minutes of the cafe.

[locustheologicus]

Excelsior I, exploring the beauty of New York State through the Empire Trail along the Erie Canal

On August 15 through the 27, Wendi and I explored the beauty of New York State by biking the Empire Trail. In total, I did 320 miles of biking, while she did over 500 miles. Wendi started at Buffalo, and I met her in Rochester.

When I got there, we backtracked a bit to see Lake Ontario before we got underway. We then went by the Genesee River, through Rochester, until we got to the canal and camped on Lock 33. We ended up camping on four different locations (twice on locks, once in a campground, and once in someone's backyard) and stayed three days at hotels.

The pictures above have us going from Lake Ontario near Rochester and coming along to Lake Onadanga near Syracuse.

You can see the sites we passed through, including an amazing boardwalk and a meditative memory garden by the Genesee River. Lock 33, where we stayed the first day and the quaint town of Fairport. After staying the second night in Port Byron (on the backyard of a canal historian), we paused at the town of Jordan, where we were offered a free history lesson on the cuisine of Native Americans and early settlers. We then passed by an old Aquaduct along the original Canal and eventually got to the State Fairgrounds and Lake Onadaga.

The trail was ok. While some places were paved, we mostly experienced stone dust trails, which we found cumbersome.