Happy New Year, Galaxy Friends. If you’re not local with us in the Midwest, you might not know just how weird the weather is this year in Milwaukee - it’s been warm-ish, with temps in the 40’s to low 50’s, and very foggy. I was saying to a class last night that it feels like we’re hovering very close to some otherworldly dimension or portal. The mornings have been misty and spooky, and I suppose I’ve been in a misty, spooky mood myself… but when am I not, actually?

The foggy, gloomy mornings have reminded me of summers in my favorite place on earth, the Keweenaw Peninsula (which is a peninsula within a peninsula, located in the western Upper Peninsula of Michigan). Surrounded on three sides by Lake Superior, the Keweenaw is privy to the extreme and changeable effects of the waters, and it seems like almost every summer day starts with a cloudy sky, and close, misty air. As the sun rises higher, its heat starts to burn away the condensation, and normally by noon, it’s a brilliant summer day, with Lake Superior waves are beckoning you to take a dip.

Interestingly enough, there were very similar weather patterns when we went for our first studio retreat this November to Lake Atitlan, Guatemala! Although the vistas were nothing like I’ve ever seen before (hello volcanoes), I loved the cool mornings, deep lake, and brilliant summer days that revealed themselves as the sun rose in the sky.

Being with those familiar weather patterns got me thinking about the magic of light and heat, as they manifest in our yoga tradition. I spend a lot of time talking about darkness and shadow, partially because I think modern yoga culture is afraid to admit that darkness is a part of being whole, and that what one denies and suppresses usually makes itself heard, no matter how hard we try to avoid it. The presence and power of light is a balance to the introspection of dark, and it deserves our attention, too - beyond the pat phrases that reduce it to IG tags like #loveandlight. Light is more powerful than that.

So our January theme will be Tejas - which is a Sanskrit phrase that translates as brightness (if you’re interested in pronunciation, you pronounce the j, rather than make it into an “h” sound like you might in Spanish). Tejas has myriad definitions throughout Indian philosophy and texts, but it generally refers to the concept of illuminative or radiant energy.

So why did I choose the brilliant, illuminative light of Tejas for January? Because it reminds me of how so many cultures infuse light into these dark winter days - candlelight, fires, lights adorning our homes and maybe even our Christmas trees. It’s all Tejas.

I’m a walker, and I love to walk through neighborhoods at night - the lights that are on inside homes allow me to see the warmly-lit spaces, and I feel a connection to whatever’s happening in there. Sometimes I’m just admiring the woodwork and wallpaper. I picture myself as a moth, wanting to flutter just a tiny bit closer to that porch light. And my daughter will tell you, I sometimes stop and *really* look deep into those windows, much to her embarrassment.

What is that urge? I know I’m not the only one who feels it. We gather around a campfire and sit a little closer to each other than we might without it. Reading a book next to the sweet flickering of candle light hits differently than reading beneath unrelenting overhead lighting. Whenever I’m doing my surreptitious gaze into a lit up living room on my night walks, I always picture laughter, warmth, cheer, and happiness inside that room. I’m like Scrooge going with the Ghost of Christmas Past to see the Christmas party at Fezziwig’s, and longing to be a part of the kinship and good cheer. Side note: Dickens was using Fezziwig as a commentary on the changing working conditions precipitated by the Industrial Revolution. And if you’re not a Dickens fan, allow me to convert you the next time we chat, because he’s one of my favorite authors of all time.

So the phrase that has continued to pop up as I pondered the Dispatch is: Come closer to the fire. These practices, this community, they’re asking you to lean in, step a little closer, and keep them with you in a more meaningful, deeper, fiery way. If you’ve been to the studio, you know how welcoming it is - we’ve got a bunch of super nice people who will literally introduce themselves to you and remember your name and miss you when you don’t come to class. I’d love you to be drawn by the pull of that light, rather than feel like there are a bunch of things you want to change about yourself. It’s not necessary to start the year with anything other than an acknowledgement of the light that is already there - it’s waiting for you to move a little closer to it.

So if you’re up for it, I’m thinking we should throw this song on our speakers, and dance and sing like nobody’s watching (or like everyone’s watching), so that we can celebrate just how great we already are! If you’re up for sharing one thing that you absolutely love about yourself, and you’re celebrating in these first few days of the new year, drop me a line - you know I’d love to hear about it.

Galaxy: Can you handle this?

Anna

What I’m Reading…

I was really bowled over by this book, and the thoughtful way he has striven to understand how we can really connect with others, see them, hear them, draw them out and “illuminate” them, in his terms. It was an inspiring read, and one of the highlights of my 2023 book list. I almost got it as a Christmas present for my entire list, but I thought that might be overkill. Lastly, I want to acknowledge how impressed I am with Brooks for the quest he has been on personally over the last few years - he is truly acknowledging his shortfalls as a human, and trying to be better, which is hard. I have to give credit to Brooks for that, because not many people are that vulnerable and searching when it comes to turning the lens on themselves. Bravo, David Brooks!