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Sister Sea Legs [Siren Swing]

I am big and fast

Then small and slow

I fill up, receptive

Sister Sun: warm, expansive, rising.

[But what have I truly done if I receive?]

I empty, let go

Sister Moon: cool, contractive, sinking.

[But who am I if I let go?]

This is the rhythm


Let go


Push back--control---]

When I enact [the swing], I am a puppeteer crafting and waggling a wooden body.

I dream of the day I come to life despite my nose

Prana, Sister Ocean, sings her vast, generous, and mysterious song.

Yama gives me Sea Legs.

[Who fools the ocean?]

Later, then, now,

At the foot of my Great Lake,

She sweeps and swallows my bare feet.

[I wasn't ready]

She pulls back, almost taking me with her



Sweeps in

Pulls away

Sweeps in

Pulls away

Mirrors you

Mirrors me

Mirrors us




This is a poem, hastily crafted and, most likely, under-edited. It started out as a post about breathing and turned into something I needed to process about having and being a sister.

But that is why we look at the breath. Why we marvel, dissect, steer, expand, hold and freak out about the breath. It's life itself.

We work with our breath and our body to process our issues.

Come to the Breath Class. Learn to ride the breath--it's a magnificent horse. Never tamed, just steered for the joy of union. And to make this oceanic life of ours navigable.

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