the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: new york city (page 1 of 72)

yogmata keiko aikawa. blessed.

“To attain enlightenment, yogis undergo rigorous training and meditate for many years. Those who, like Yogmata Keiko Aikawa, have attained samadhi can transmit anugraha shakti (God’s grace and power).”

img_7716Tonight, I had the unbelievable and utterly indescribable honor of being within 15 feet of her holiness, Yogmata Keiko Aikawa. And I returned to a place I know better than anything. Better than heartbreak, better than any daily in or out.

She led a meditation at the United Nations as part of international yoga day. She blessed us. And now I understand why people travel to India to seek a guru, or a holy touch.

Her sheer presence was like nothing I have ever experienced. I can’t even go on. Watch:

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out snapping

I’m snapping out of it blog tribe.img_6253

As a gypsy, minus my parents being 80 miles away – I don’t really have chunks of family somewhere. If I didn’t have a global cult of love-tribe who check in on me from time to time, it’s possible I might be classified a recluse.

Not that I’m misanthropic. Clearly not, or I wouldn’t fall in love every day, and I certainly wouldn’t live in midtown Manhattan. I love many humans, it’s just that since my divorce – I’m usually alone (minus the babies).

Anyways, last night I saw a favorite person who greeted me with, “How’s your boyfriend?”

Uuuuuuugh. Continue reading

heartbreak. three weeks. home.

Namaste.

It’s still surreal that I have had my heart destroyed to this degree, so recently. I’m glad that I img_6411have at least been able to entertain my three-week house guest.

I feel like, as a Poet, I’m allowed to be as boo-hoo as I feel like being today. I dare said that I haven’t taken a hit like this since my first husband.

And that was rough. Continue reading

when brooklyn has your back

img_6829Last night I was in Brooklyn licking raw Luthier wounds. One of my favorites made the evening, like always.

I tipped topless women and laughed loudly. I was twirled to tracks that played on a juke box in a Cony Island bar, catching up with a bartender I used to see regularly.

I had fun for the first time since my birthday. Last week was a little whack. Continue reading

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