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Twelve words.  

If only the Scrabble board were a little bit bigger.  The blank I had to use for H in “Home” spills off the left side of the board, and the whole thing is a sham since the originating word (“Love”) doesn’t fall across the center star of the board.  But there’s something strangely satisfying today about playing lawlessly with words on a Scrabble board.  It’s outside the lines Scrabble with myself.  

If you move “Harmony” to the N in “Nurture” and imagine more H, V, and R tiles than actually come with the board, this would be somewhere around a 206 point board.

Some of these words are real to me… a part of my moment to moment conversation with myself.  Some are more aspirational… a practice.

One (“Receive”) is so unfamiliar to me that I had to double-check its spelling.

What are your twelve words?  Submit a post, or send me an email.

Yoga tonight for the first time since February.

I have not taken care of myself.  This year, I’ve traded my flexibility and lightness for a body built by force.  My thighs, calves, back and will are overdeveloped.  I have to work to open my heart, where it used to be light and open without effort. 

I dedicated my class tonight to love for myself.

The leader of the class — the person present this evening to help bring out the teacher in me — observed that fighting just causes more fighting.  I wonder if he was somehow able to see all of the fighting I’ve been doing.  And, that I don’t want to do.  That I would rather roll my shoulders back and feel my breath and move through the world like water.  That I would rather bow my head, and honor the spirit in the beings around me than do battle.

At the end of class, laying in corpse pose… as I felt each part of my body dissolve into the air… at some point, my breath deepened, and the tears started to roll.  It is time to be kind to myself.

After I had peeled myself off my mat, and put away my block and bolster, he said to me:

“Congratulations for peeling back a few layers.”

People in my life have joked about how I am like an onion.  

Maybe it’s true.  When I think back on this year, I have acquired a few extra layers.  And, it is time to peel them back, honor the spirit in others and myself, and flow, not force, my way through the world.
Namaste.

Verve. Seattle, WA.

3820 S Ferdinand Street, Suite 102 (entrance in back)
Seattle, WA 98118
Telephone: 206.760.0977

Breakfast / Brunch Hours
Saturday and Sunday: 10 am – 2 pm.

Located in Columbia City, Verve is right around the corner from the busy Geraldine’s Counter.  Immediate seating, then leisurely and worth the wait during my visit on a Sunday morning.  

My over medium eggs were a tad greasy for my taste, but cooked perfectly over medium, and with an unexpected, delicious hint of coriander… it appeared not directly intentional, since the coriander was visible (but less noticeable) in the hash browns.  Perfectly crispy on one side; almost creamy on the other, the shredded potatoes qualify as #nomnom and just right in size… not too big, not too little.  Just right.

The wild greens with a light vinaigrette are a lovely, unexpected touch.

My perfectly cooked bacon arrived late, after a little bit of confusion… but oh my, the bacon for dessert was just splendid.  Crispy all the way from first bite to last, but not overcooked.

The bottom line:  If their eggs are always just a hint tinged with coriander, Verve might just have me as a regular.

Bonus points:  When asked if they have soy milk for their yummy Stumptown coffee (+1), their answer was “Regular or Vanilla?” (+2).  More bonus points:  their extensive Benedict menu.  I overhead a neighboring diner being asked if they would like an extra side of Hollandaise (with tarragon, as it should be).