This morning, walking from class to the bus stop, my ankles got a shiver as pale greenish tentacles reached from below the Earth's surface into the pedestrian atmosphere.  "The End has come.  Earthlings have at last awakened the fury of the subterranean devils!" I thought, as I bravely knelt down to inspect, acknowledging the apocalyptic destruction of humankind.  While I can not be sure of their intentions, the beasts' talons have disguised themselves ingeniously as sprouting tulip bulbs.  Hark!  Do not be deceived!  God is not mocked.*  We will reap what we have sewn.  (What? Tulip bulbs were planted there while I wasn't looking?  Nonsense. Take to your Vespas and flee!)

Underground gremlins aside, it seems that Spring is here.  And while this change is one we have been dreaming about for ages, let's not forget that change means things will be different, and when things get different, we get rattled.  (Remember when Autumn turned into Winter?  Grumpier then, weren't we?)  Change (with a captial "C") has become the themesong of the red, white & blue, it seems, and lots of us are into it.  But let's be clear: even during the rare moments when we're witnessing the shifts we asked for, most of us are total brats** about embracing impermanence, (the most reliable thing in the universe). Let's ease on down the road.  That said, I will now address upcoming changes and suggestions in the well-loved literary form known as a list.

1. What the heck is that fish doing up there?  A beautiful little betta fish named Bloody Mary (pictured above) needs you.  While she has something of a "past" - having killed four males who tried to, ahem, date her, let's say - she has recently acquired swimming belly disorder, and will have to undergo a 6-day fast followed by a laxative diet of straight peas (a sentence that would humble any of us).  For the love of sushi, send your prayers.  If possible, send them 13 times in a darkened bathroom, standing in front of a mirror holding a candle and a high-ball glass of tomato juice, vodka, lemon, celery, olives and spices.

2. Schedule changes for Spring include: no more Thursday nights at Yoga Now (boo!) but an added class Friday mornings at Nature (hooray!)  Also at Yoga Now, I will teach a noon basics on Mondays, and Sunday nights' Restorative will begin at 7:15 rather than our fumbled attempts to begin at 7:00.  It will still be 75 minutes long.  (Not long enough?  Check out the monthly workshop!)

3. My monthly restorative workshop, Sound Mind Yoga, a 2-hour gentle, meditative practice complemented by singing bowls, has 3 new dates for Spring, all of which are Saturdays 1-3pm at Yoga Now Goldcoast.  APRIL 11, MAY 8 and JUNE 13.  Open up the electronic calendaring application of your choice and get down with some data entry.  (For anachrons: pencil these dates in your book.)

4. Did you know that I am available for private yoga at your house?  Not kidding.  I would love to, in fact.  If you have specific goals, questions or limitations, private sessions are genius.  If you are friendly, I will even see you cheap-ish.  If you live in a big space where other folks want to yoga, call me.  Happy Hour at Walt Whitman started because a couple yoga-loving gals were too busy for class and too broke for private sessions - voila!  Maybe your friend/mom/person in line at the last remaining Wamu is the one that needs private yoga.  This is an invite to spread the word. 

5. In the way of Earth-related things, consider stones.  Giant, heavy, warmed and smoothed jade stones sinking into your naked, humming skin.  May I introduce Gustavo De La Torre.  You haven't heard of him yet because he's just arrived fresh from LA, the motherland of enlightenment via supernatural luxury.  I experienced a jade stone massage with him recently, and I give him 400 billion stars***.  You can find out more about him on the Yoga Now website, under therapist bios, but if you ask nicely, I will probably give you his phone number. He works in Lakeview, Goldcoast, and your place.  He is DREAMY.

6. I'm going to go see my nephew, Cole Acomb, on Sunday, because he is 8, and has won Student of The Year in Lebanon, OH. He doesn't know I'm coming for the awards ceremony, so mums the word, folks.  Cole is the best.  (This year, at least.)  What does that mean to you?  It means you will enjoy delightful teachers, Barbara Passy and Rich Logan in my stead Sunday-Tuesday!  Be good to them.

Cole Acomb, genius


*Stop freaking out.  This is a translation from international bestseller, The Bible.  I'm not trying to get Christian on you, but it isn't a bad little number: "Do not be deceived, God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, this he will also reap. For the one who sows to his own flesh shall from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit shall from the Spirit reap eternal life. And let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we shall reap if we do not grow weary. So then, while we have opportunity, let us do good to all men [and women.  I'm sure he meant women, too]."  Galatians 6:7

**Take no reprimand from me, dear friends.  I am your fellow.  In fact, for those who have not yet noticed, this little blog here, regardless of the grammatical person employed, is written by me, Karen.  When I say "have you ever considered that you might have a problem with eggplant?"  I am saying, "Karen hates eggplant."  However, as fine a line as it is to tread, I will make this promise to you: if I ever write a novel - which I might, don't tempt me - I will not, I repeat not, write my life story and pretend it is fiction.  I will, just like any great writer, create a story based on and implying the events of my life as it may have been if it made any damn sense, and insist it is fiction.

***I am not granted access to those beyond the Milky Way at this time.