by C. Jane Taylor | Nov 15, 2021 | Personal Essays
Like many dreamers, I want to embrace spooky action at a distance. I’m also pragmatic and tend to poopoo too much cosmic debris, as the late great Frank Zappa might describe it. I may have my head in the clouds, but my feet are firmly planted on the Cozy Toes heater... 
by C. Jane Taylor | Oct 16, 2021 | Personal Essays
There was a yoga class in my living room this morning. There is one there every morning. Ever since the beginning of pandemic life, six to twenty yoga students fill the screen in front of my husband in the living room. I took the class on mute from my office all the... 
by C. Jane Taylor | Sep 6, 2021 | Personal Essays
The drone scares the dog. He is a ten-year-old pit bull/lab mix who has recently become an emotional support animal for the yoga teacher training I co-teach at the university. Already wary of birds—probably due to the great chicken massacre he may have witnessed a few... 
by C. Jane Taylor | May 14, 2021 | Personal Essays
Determination is a quality I usually ascribe to crocuses. There is no greater example of it at winter’s end than their delicate, willful heads breaking through the snow’s crusty surface. In May, determination belongs to the Canada geese, flying under cover of darkness... 
by C. Jane Taylor | Apr 15, 2021 | Personal Essays
One-hundred-fifty-six years ago today, Abraham Lincoln was struck down in the blush of youth. Honest Abe was not a babe, he was 56. His presidency was in the blush of its youth. I am older now than he was when he went to the theatre. It is amazing for me to imagine... 