Most of us don’t give much thought to the health of our immune systems until we come down with that bug that’s going around. Then we’re apt to wish we’d been paying it a bit more attention. “When an illness lingers, when it’s tough to get over a cough or a cold, when you get […]
by Jennifer Lang Over the past two decades, I’ve taken yoga classes in some far-flung places—Berlin, Lausanne, a tiny village in southern Thailand—as well as in Los Angeles, New York City, and Santa Fe, New Mexico. While every class was special in its own way, it was a Sunday morning vinyasa flow class in Philadelphia […]
by Jennifer Lang “Hi jai kow,” the teacher repeated a few times with an up-and-down lilt in her voice. I had no idea what the words meant, but I looked at the woman on my left and imitated her. “Inhale and sit tall. Exhale, stay,” the teacher continued in halting English. She counted five breaths, […]
by Laura Didyk Travel and I do not have the best relationship. I love point A. And I love the experience of point B. I’m just not that fond of the trip from one to the other. A large part of the conflict is rooted in my lifelong susceptibility to motion sickness. On a bad […]
Chris McCann, guest blogger
Through winter-time we call on spring,
And through the spring on summer call,
And when abounding hedges ring
Declare that winter’s best of all;
And after that there s nothing good
Because the spring-time has not come -
Nor know that what disturbs our blood
Is but its longing for the tomb.
This poem by William Butler Yeats has haunted me since I first read it at 15 years old. I moved around a lot as a kid—Boston, New Hampshire, Georgia, New Jersey—and always felt most at home when I was in one place thinking about another. These eight lines by Yeats knocked me over, and made me wonder whether my desire for wandering was simply a self-deluding race toward the grave.