{ meagre + imprints } yogi. photographer. memoir. austin, tx

A text conversation today went like this...

"When I was about 8 I saw a girl walking down the street with a long thick ponytail and it was swinging side to side as she strode.
I remember trying to make my hair swoosh side to side so many times following that scene.
Today I am running and my hair is grazing my shoulders from one to the other in time with my steps."

"From the book?"

"This is just a text message to you."



It's quite fascinating the things that return to me at the most unexpected times. I thought today after this exchange, "I have a lot of memories." Of course I began to analyze this. Do I have so many little captured moments in time because I was very present as a child, perhaps I am just old enough to finally have accumulated many pictures from my past, or am I such an impressionable being that I just recall details that might be forgotten by others. Continuing to document my abstract memories is proving to be a challenge (as there are many) that I adore or feel are significant to who I am.



There were plays on the back porch, cats were my children.
I was a mermaid under the steps in the pool.
I wore pink shells and had long blonde hair.
The pigeons in the barn were terrifying, but nothing compared to the skin of the snake.
Barefoot, tangled hair, tan skin, wild.
Playing house in a horse trailer.
Poohbear, Gray Kitty, Rascal, and Dexter.
Barbies consumed the third story.
Desks like a real school, I could pretend.
Always an outsider, without having read the book or seen the movie.
Skating rink on Mondays, the park on Thursdays.
The days blend, experiences stand out.
Feeling strange and not understanding normal.
My sister's dirty books, party line phone calls, Seventeen Magazine.
French lessons, Tom Petty, sleeping on trampolines.
How many lives have I pressed into these thirty-one years?
I challenged it from the very start.
Out of bed at nap, in the bathroom, pink pills, fear, a hospital room with a mobile.
My first detailed memory.
Why didn't you hold me? Were you as afraid as I was?
Worms from the gutter, he deserved them smashed onto his head.
Punched in the face, I should not have hit her.
I was not soft.
Everything was impulsive, by nature.
Not much has changed.
Soda with a city skyline, He-Man and She-Ra, Sega, Aerosmith.
Easter or Mother's Day, sometime in the Spring.
I craved these times.
Chili and rice, who weighed the most?
Spit down the fireplace, a ladder taken away.
I always had a hug for Paw-Paw.
The pictures don't end.
I remember it all.




Last weekend I was struck by something. I was blessed to have a sleepover with just my Evelyn. She is just like me, impressionable, she's culminating her own memoir. Each moment is an opportunity to offer her what I was given, experiences that shape her. My quirks, opinions, delights, compassion, fears, ect. all come from this wild ride of life (or lives) which I have been fortunate to be a passenger on.

{ grace bath } - yogi. photographer. austin, tx.

I wasn't born graceful and sometimes I feel that it is unattainable for me. Today however, I recognize grace in my life. Where there is immense pain I have invited love, when I feel stiff I have moved toward fluidity, and as fear has escalated I have planted my feet in faith and friendship. This is grace, offered toward myself and others. It is a worthy quest I commit to. This is my work.



In a body that refuses to bend, I flourish through moveable joints.
I dance to my breath.
Sun touches my skin, it has not killed me.
Washed in light, it lands on me and flows like honey down my arms.
Dreams are nourished by this nectar.
Toes pointed, heart lifted, head thrown back in abandon.
Ecstasy.
The kind of passion that makes my unyielding back arch.
Elegance.
I feel the anchor inside me lift, I am weightless for this moment.
Sweep through me, swirl around me, carry me away.
Music, forgiveness, the salt of sweat and tears.
Graceful at last.

{ face to floor } - yogi. photographer. austin, tx.

A series in prostration.





Head down.
Vision, come inside.
It's splendid my love, settle here.
Can you stay and hold me when I cry?
I only cry for a moment each time.
My eyes lift, clear, passionate, forgiving all I have seen.
Each bow renews innocence.
This wave I need.
I rise, I fold, my gaze paints my body.
Strong, so strong I tire.
Can I rest against you once? Twice?
Days away from you are the hardest.
I'm sorry I run away when I get scared, you wait for me patiently.
Head down, on your shoulder.
All day with you.
These tears are gratitude. This sweat is anointed oil.
My heart leaks through my body.
Deep inside, you touch skeleton, muscle, dreams.
Beloved, get closer.
I prostrate myself, take this honor.
Teacher, friend, lover, religion, balance, livelihood.
Head down, at your feet.

{ unspoken pride } - yogi. photographer. mama. austin, tx.

I'm reading a memoir now, I'm fairly certain that memoirs are my favorite books. I talk all the time about writing my own. Because there is something so lovely about knowing the history of my own family, I want my girls to have the chance to read about me when they are grown. The reason I mention the book I am currently reading is that it has been evoking all of these tiny seedling memories inside me. As I let them sit and visit me, even as I journal about them, it is clear they have had some deep impact that has been part of the molding of my worldview.




If you said it, I didn't hear.
If I didn't hear, I'm sorry.
He said it once. In the tractor while I helped drive.
For a moment I was brilliant.
Smart became important, smart became salvation.
Without smart I was condemned.
I let you down even in the day I chose to come to the earth.
You remind me.
Wrong in my gender, my manners, my volume, my touch.
Even smart could not impress you.
Rebellion.
I could not achieve, so I decided to no longer need.
There were times it felt close.
Those were followed by "but."
It might not have hurt so much if I had not admired you more than any other.
You felt it somewhere inside.
I tell myself you feel it now.

Today I said it three times.
Tomorrow I will say it six.
I will draw those words out of hiding and splay them in light.
I will make them heard. Felt.
They will know.





I have the most beautiful girls, the sweetest, sometimes smelliest, but without a doubt the most extraordinary, wonderful, young women. I adore them so much, I am so proud of them.

{ would you know me } - yogi. photographer. austin, tx.

I remember that day in your house, so cold I stood right by the furnace or in your lap.
A giant white robe, bare feet, my wet hair against my skin.
We left no room for the t.v.
Consumed, wrapped up in blankets and euphoria.
That was the beginning of me.
So long ago together. Building, painting, pressing, searching.
The time when you were so sick. You were a terrible patient.
I doted, you slept. We fit.
Memories blur with dreams, did you really happen?
You have been so many. Too many.
You're a trench coat, a tee shirt, a pair of cut off jeans, and a tattoo.
You have paint under your nails and a crooked smile.
I still don't know you.
Trying to solve the mystery of you, I found more of me.
I found a piece of me when we drove all over for barbeque. I found adventure.
When I chased you around with a camera while you made art, I found play.
When you walked into work and I went all warm inside, I found lust.
When you scared me, I found courage.
They come like waves. The sweet experiences shared in such a brief time.
Our two-step, our duet, our language, I liked you.
The separateness of our lives was too vast.
Is too vast.
Our lives unfolding, apart.
So far apart.

{ growth + saturation } - yogi. photographer. child. austin, tx.

My mom used to tell me that history repeats itself. She would laugh at me wanting to wear things of hers from the 60's and 70's and tell me that one day the styles of my time would come back around (mom, you were right, I own a hyper color shirt again).

Life really is a cycle. The good news is...when the repeat begins, if we are awake, we can make new choices (like NOT wearing skirts with ruffles around our hips or denim overalls).

The weather in Austin today was humid and warm, I was taken back to some other time and I have been nostalgic all day. Sometimes when I look back at my life I worry. Plagued by the fear that I haven't grown enough, because I see the wheel coming back around. Now I am armed with a new mindset, I have bigger dreams. My life will not simply play out the same tune over and over, I will find and create something different amid this natural circle of life. Instead it will become my spiral growing larger on the way up, like a ripple grows out from the center. I will reach beyond the places I have been, expand in all directions, inspire myself, and live over the edge of the horizon.









The air hit me like a memory flood. Warm and sultry on my skin, rich and earthy in my nose.
Just like Summer days so long ago after a rain and before we could rush down to the river.
Sitting on the porch or in the pavilion, killing time with pick-up sticks or Uno.
We were young, I was innocent.
I took in every texture, every scent, every dream. I was a sponge ripe for experience.
I wanted the world.
When you want the world, it comes to you, ready or not.
Lost were my eyes of pure trust, in two beers and strong arm.
I no longer wanted the world.
The muggy air did not excite me, it made me afraid. Scared of the way the heat makes people wild.
Withdrawn and asleep, protecting that sweet girl by shutting the world away from her.
The world still my desire, somewhere I could not touch.
Buried were my longing to connect, to be seen, and to live.
Shadow times, lost years. Times where I can not draw any pictures or link any sensations.
Cold times.
Summer is resurrection for me. The heat reminds me I am bold, free, and passionately alive.
Warmth like today pulls my mind through decades, memories, and then brings me here.
Grounded.
Scary things happen, life moves me, shakes me, and I want to cover my eyes and cloak my body.
It is that moment when I breathe. I look into the eyes of people I love, people who smile back.
No more hiding.
Hot air rises, and so it is with me.
Fear will come and I will hold my little blonde haired angel in her flannel shirt and tell her "it's ok."
We lift above this, carried on a steamy breeze of love, determination, and faith.

{ my nymphs } - mama. photographer. austin, tx

I'm so proud of my little ladies. Without going into detail and divulging things that are personal for them, last night and today they have shown such tremendous strength of character and compassion to each other. Sometimes (often) I worry that I will fail at this Divine calling as a mother. How small my vision, how self centered of me. This is their life and they are destined to soar. The role I play in their grand adventure is kind of a navigator, a fortunate witness to give love and support. Today gives me encouragement that I am helping them, also that they are already full of so much love it's beginning to mature into sweetness, even toward each other.

I can write no more, I'm choked up and sentimental. My girls are the most wonderful beings in my life and they are without a doubt the most incredible young women I have ever encountered. Go ahead, call me biased, if you've met them...you know what I'm talking about.

{ the back story } - yogi. photographer. austin, tx.

You can't hold me.



When we first came together you held me so tightly. My gaze you would not allow to drift away from center.
As I grew strong and began to twist and move, you punished me painfully.
I was your captive, you were my anchor.
As we learned to work together there was relief, I grew comfortable.
Comfort lead to confidence, I tested my wings and you admonished me brutally.
Once again I laid in your grip, pitiable.
Perhaps that made me hate you, caused me to rebel.
I began sneaking away from you, in the tiniest ways and you did not even notice.
You never realized what was happening, I was climbing out of your vise.
First one hour each week, eventually escalating to my entire mind being away from you always.
You lost your control.
I have taken back pieces that you once held firmly in place.
I found in my dreams, both awake and in slumber, I can move freely.
This relationship may never end.
I remain grateful for you each and every day, in some way.
You are a teacher to me, you are a blessing, and still I want more.
I want to never be frightened of the words "bend, curl, curve, and arch."
The truth is, I continue to seek absolute freedom from your restrictions.
Come along with me, join me in this flow.
Together we will marvel at how far we have come.
Together we will dream of the many ways we will move.

*My spinal fusion is from T4-L3 vertebra. I have a titanium rod and screws in place. If you think you can't, open your mind to something that seems impossible...you never know where you can fly.

{ write back } - yogi. photographer. austin, tx.

During my recent training I focused so much on my training journal that I completely stopped my free form journal (my crazy writing). Yesterday I found my pen to paper again. These wild writings are healing to me, like a written detoxification of my mind. A compilation of thoughts, memories, fantasies, and non-sense. Once I have scrawled them out there is a lovely spacious place for more inspiration to flow. The piece I wrote yesterday had been percolating inside my head for days, I'm grateful for this creative outlet to share my mental brew.




So much I consider the texture of your skin. Only the softness shows your age.
My fingers trace the ridges of your beard, where your face falls into it's own shadow lands.
Touching your cheek exactly where it becomes round when your heart swells up to your mouth in a smile.
I caress your forehead. So youthful, so clear, as if your brow has experienced no furrow.
How childlike you are. Not only in sleep,
your soul is young. Your spirit lingers in frightened infancy.
I thought you would see my frailty as well.
I didn't realize that you were me.
Eternal child mirror, be well my sweet.
Be tender with yourself, you are a soft
and delicate creature.

{ it began with a dog } - yogi. photographer. student. austin, tx

There is really only one person who knows the full extent of my yogic journey, and I am not speaking third person. Forever my gratitude will be immense for my first yoga teacher, John. The one person who witnessed my body transform from disconnected and weak into a body that is alive and growing strong.

Just a few days ago at 6am I was honored to lead John and his amazing fiancee Laura (check out her blog) through yoga practice. This marked one of the most humbling moments of my life.



I was given John's name and number when I asked a friend about private yoga lessons. I had no idea at the time how my life would change, I never dreamt of the passion I would develop for this practice. There is no way I can know exactly what John felt. I showed up on his porch with quite the challenge, a fused spine and absolutely no yoga experience. He faithfully guided me through downward facing dog (and many other basic shapes that I felt were impossible), adjusting me and patiently explaining how I could activate muscles and deepen the postures (I thought he was overly optimistic). He shared with me things that were rich in worth, planted seeds of awareness in my mind and body, even though the fruit was meager early on. My physical self did not comprehend much at that point. My spirit was thirsty, I was determined, and John was willing to share his knowledge of yoga as well as his time. He gave me a precious gift that would reshape my entire life from the inside to the outside.

Never in those Monday night private sessions would I ever have imagined myself moving fluidly, breathing evenly, and certainly not guiding others to do these things. I listened, I tried, and I rested with a sweet little chihuahua named Batman nuzzling me during savasana. This was my reprieve, it was my water in the desert, yet I did not understand. Maybe John had intuition, because he continued to teach me and share beautiful yogic truths with me. When he and Laura walked into the studio I felt such a flood of love for this incredible couple. This duo of life changing sweetness. My heart swells when I think of not only how my own life has been touched, but also my girls. Through encouragement that John gave me about being a single mom and working away from the home, I really felt inspired to strive to be the best and mot authentic mother and example to my ladies. The lives of those I am now blessed to work with are also recipients of John's faithfulness to share the practice of yoga, philosophy, energy, mindfulness, and trust.

Cliche though it may sound, keep giving whatever gift you are here to share...this is how the world is changed and love is spread!