the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: soul (page 5 of 61)

i love to break phones

img_7640It has been a quiet week. I’ve been internal, I chanted a bit. I’ve been spending as much time as I can in the sun before winter sneaks up on me.

I also had the great pleasure of my phone breaking, completely. This means all contacts were lost, photos probably got erased. Of course I don’t back anything up on my phone. I’ll back my writing up, to a certain degree – but my phone?

That’s too much work. Continue reading

don giovanni. dirty stories.

Last night, alone, I dressed in burgundy velvet splashed with golden leaves and six inch platform stilettos – img_7903and I went to the Metropolitan Opera House for the first time.

And it was everything you could possibly imagine it to be… Continue reading

Halloween begins!

img_7794Happy Halloween everyone! Some of you already know, today is my day. My birthday is the only day I like better than Halloween.

My day started with spiral glasses, bunny ears, dressing the puppies like a shark and piggles – and hitting the street.

This all occurred prior to 8am… Continue reading

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:

what you chase

Since cracking off this web-ville in 2009, I’ve seen (and written about) a lot going down.

I’ve also had the privilege to watch a collection of my fellow wordsmiths get the bindings they’ve been chasing, with their name printed across, scattered around bookshelves all over the place.

That, to me, is very special. Self-publishing gave me the same tingles as I observed strangers plucking up my pages to indulge in my poetry. It meant a lot to me, as a Writer and as a human creature in general. Continue reading

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