How to Choose a Yoga Studio

"Shoulder Stand" Original Drawing by Becky Kazana. Please do no reproduce without permission.  

Finding the right yoga studio is like choosing a church. You are looking for something intangible, a mood, a vibe. All of these places are pretty similar; usually clean, bare rooms with polished wood floors, maybe a wall of mirrors, maybe plants, maybe candles, maybe a singing bowl. Some use music, some don't. Some are hot, some warm, some cool. The teachers are important, but you will learn something from every person you take class with. The style of yoga is part of it- but you will learn something from every practice, from Hatha to Bikram.

Since arriving in Minneapolis, I'd gone the Groupon route, trying out Heat Yoga, Core Power, Minnehaha Yoga, Your Yoga, and Yoga Studio. I've barely scratched the surface of studios in my area- there is Life Power, Iyengar Yoga and a Bikram studio, all within easy walking distance of my apartment.

So far, One Yoga has definitely been my favorite. They offer a wide variety of classes in many styles, almost every hour, so there is always a class that is convenient. But the intangible something is in the air. Bold letters on the door announce "YOU ARE ENTERING A CALM PLACE." and it's true. You can feel it when you walk in. The rush and bustle drain away as you pull off your wet boots and hang your coat on a peg, find a spot to unfurl your mat and go inward, slowly and deeply.

During practice recently, I had an idea to make this drawing. I love looking at my legs and feet in shoulder stand- they always look so tiny and far off up there, and it's nice to send all the blood flowing in the opposite direction from feet to head for a change. I often have a dream that I am looking at my hands, feet or body from a distance as they slowly swell gigantic and then shrink back down to teeny tiny, and somehow this pose reminds me of that. Everything in your life is a matter of perspective, plain and simple.

Do you practice yoga? What's your favorite pose right now? What do you look for in a teacher? A studio? Do tell!

Mama Artists

Having babies has been on my "Maybe Someday" list for a long time. But something is shifting.

Eric surprised me with tickets to Verdi's La Traviata at the Cowles Center. It was a stripped down production with no sets or costumes. One of the sopranos was gloriously, Venus of Willendorf-ishly pregnant. She stood in the spotlights in her black evening gown, hair spun into a French twist, neck and wrists dripping with glittering jewelry. I couldn't stop looking at her belly as she sang- watching it lift and pulse as she belted out arias. I imagined the little baby inside of her, listening to those sounds vibrating all around her body, comprehending none of it, but understanding it perfectly.

A few weeks later, we went to see the James Sewell Ballet at the very same theater. The dances ranged from traditional to modern, the performers wearing tutus in one sequence and leopard spotted spandex in another. One of the dancers, long and lanky with acres of neck and legs, was also pregnant. She wore a sheer black blouse over a black bra and tiny shorts- her belly sitting low and oval, like an ostrich egg. Her pregnancy was unmistakable and yet not the first thing you noticed. Her confidence and self possession shined out of every movement she made. She leaped and jumped all over the stage, so light and free in her changed body. I wondered the about her and her baby- what was their life like? How had she decided to get pregnant? Was this her first baby? Did she ever feel nervous moving like that with a baby?

I thought about these two women for weeks. How strange see two hometown performers in different mediums both pregnant at separate shows only a few weeks apart. Both women were doing creative work that demanded so much from their bodies- they had to be completely engaged in what they were doing. Both could have opted out, maybe were even advised to, yet neither one did.

You can choose to become lost to yourself. You can ignore the lessons life offers you by looking at the wrong things, avoiding pain, deadening your feelings, zoning out. So it must be the same with parenthood. Children can either be something to lose yourself in, or something to discover yourself through.

Entering into parenthood feels even more sacred than marriage to me. You are guiding a spirit into a body, teaching it how to be human, how to move through the world. You must be worthy of imitation, in the words of Rudolf Steiner. It fills me with awe to even think of it- bringing something from the void. By mixing my soul with my husband's, we can bring forth a new being- it's such an honor and tremendous responsibility.

That's why seeing those Mamas up there touched me so much- I couldn't look away. For them, motherhood didn't stop their work, it enhanced it. It pushed them further into the mystery of living, pushed them deeper into the reasons they make art to begin with. At it's best, art puts you in touch with the unknowable, the awesome, the deep possibilities. And at it's best, parenthood offers you the same lessons. I wonder why I never understood that before.

A Murder of Crows Stay the Night

"A Murder of Crows" original illustration by Becky Kazana. Please do not reproduce without permission. 

Crows don't migrate like some birds, and there is a massive group of them circling in Minneapolis this winter. You can see them fluttering through the air like bits of singed paper, especially in the evenings at dusk. I've seen them roosting in different places- always in tall trees and often in loosely formed clusters, not too near one another, but most definitely in a group.

The other night as we were starting dinner, I noticed their calls outside the window and went to look out. Sure enough, they were all settling in the tall oak trees that line our street. These glossy black birds are so associated with Gothic literature and bad omens, (a group of crows is called a "murder" after all,) that it felt a little eerie. On the other hand, Eric loves to tell me how they are among the smartest animals on earth, able to solve complex problems, use tools and recognize and distinguish human faces. It's not their fault Edgar Allen Poe decided to immortalize one in a spooky poem.

Their acrid calls and awkward shuffling is rather endearing when you imagine them as a gaggle of cranky old men. They certainly were striking up there silhouetted in the tangle of branches as the sky darkened around them. In the morning, they were all gone, a spray of splintered branches on the sidewalk and snow the only evidence of their night spent on our street.

Minnesota Winter Must: Sorel Boots

"There is no bad weather, only bad clothes." -Scandinavian Proverb

For a few weeks, I tried to make do with second hand boots in a Minnesota winter. Two sizes too big meant swinging them along like leaden anchors and my hips quickly felt the toll. Wearing ordinary shoes is a terrible option as well, leaving your socks soaked and toes instantly turned icy, red and numb.

I decided to invest in a pair of Sorel boots. Thanks to a coupon code from Piperlime, I paid $75 for them. What a wonderful pleasure my walk to work has become! If it's snow and ice, the grippers dig in and give me sure footing. If it's slush and puddles, my feet arrive at their destination dry and toasty.

Though these boots aren't exactly fashion forward, they have the sort of ugly cute quality that seems to be in vogue right now, and have the added benefit of being enormously practical. (How I pity the fools I see in their tennis shoes or ballet flats full of ice!) Between the right gear, the necessity of a daily walk and my strict policy of not complaining, my time outside each day has become a true joy. I look forward to my walk, knowing it will clear my head, invigorate my body and connect me with this place I call home.

P.S) This original illustration is available for $20 if you're having a love affair with galoshes as well! It will easily fit in a standard 8x10 frame. Email me at thefabulousmissbATgmailDOTcom if you'd like to purchase it for your house!

Welcome to the Attic!

I've had a few requests for a peak at our new space and it's finally coming together, just in time for the party we held last night. Let's throw in a before and after while we're at it!

BEFORE: The living area and kitchen.

BEFORE: The living area and kitchen.

AFTER: The Kazana living room, complete with library and bar! The kilim rugs were wonderful finds. Mom gave up one of hers and I layered it with another found via craigslist.

These sumptuous ikat and embroidered pillow covers are from India and Afghanistan via Etsy shops Old Silk Route and Silk Way.

I'm especially proud of our bar and library. We scored this table 20% off at World Market with a coupon from their store club, and I think it does double duty beautifully. It was such a treat to get my beautiful collection of Taschen books out of storage! The mirrored lamp and burlap shade are from Target. I collected the little wooden birds on the shelf during our travels in Uganda. 

I guess I've been in the mood for brown liquor of late- should probably add a bit more variety, eh? The beautiful silver cocktail tray was another Etsy find from Vintage We Treasure, it's engraved with recipes for cocktails popular in the 40's.  The crystal decanter was a wedding gift to my parents. 

BEFORE: Kitchen area.

AFTER: Kitchen area. We found another beautiful kilim rug on craigslist for the kitchen. I'm so delighted with the color and pattern of this rug. The king palm is from Ikea. His name is Filburt. He's very happy to meet you. 

My brother Jake did all the food prep for the party we had last night, which was celebrating many things, including his return from the Peace Corps, our new city, our new home, my Dad's beautiful remodeling job, my 30th Birthday and two Kazanas in serious need of some fun. It's rather a hazardous kitchen for tall people (did you see that slanty wall?) but he made it hum and turned out a beautiful variety of hummus, home made pita bread, and crudites. I cheated and ordered some sweets from Wuollette's, and made a bite sized caprice salad with a Greek twist: cherry tomatoes, mint, feta, red onion and cucumber on a skewer squirted with lemon. Bite sized salad is fun to eat and adds a dash of color to the table. We also had broiled bacon wrapped dates, our absolute favorite party food ever. Try it at your next party- guaranteed hit!

BEFORE: Bedroom nook

AFTER: Bedroom nook. I found this rather Psychadelic bed cover at a thrift shop and impulsively bought it this summer. How perfect is it in there? 

This dresser was another craigslist find that I know we can enjoy for years. Eric and my Dad had this television installed on a bracket so it can swing out to be watched from the sofa or the bed. Everything in this tiny 250 square foot space needs to multi-function to save room and effort. 

Eric demonstrating the scale of our little hobbit door! It leads to a balcony three stories up- above the tree line. A spiral staircase (that takes some bravery to navigate!) lead down to the backyard parking area. We can barely stand up straight inside the peaked ceiling here. 

Thanks for visiting our newest tiny house! I hope you enjoyed the sneak peak.

New City, Vintage Ride?

Tommy Hilfiger ad via The Pursuitist

Despite what my earlier post may have led you to believe, a bustling city like Minneapolis leaves me with plenty to fantasize about.

I tore this Tommy Hilfiger ad from a magazine last fall, because the Jeep Wagoneer has long been one of my favorite vehicles. This car is a perfect juxtaposition of rustic and preppy. I love it's vintage shape, chrome details, and of course, the wooden panels. Just imagine a wire fox terrier with his head stuck out the window on a crisp fall afternoon, and you can see my new life in Minneapolis coming into clearer focus.

I also want to take up cross country skiing to make winter something to look forward to, instead of bearing with clenched teeth. I'd like to Consume Less and Create More. I'm looking forward to taking some classes on cooking, photography, graphic design, you name it. I can't wait for museums and the fantastic, perfect lattes that for some reason seem to belong exclusively in the domain of Urban Life. There are more things to be excited about, but I think I'll save them up for the next few months as I enjoy the last of my time in Hawaii.

The Prodigal Citizen

From Bad Postcards via Debbi Pete

We are leaving Hawaii and moving to Minneapolis on October 1st. I have mixed feelings about this.

On the one hand, moving to Minnesota feels like horrible moose sweaters, hot dish, color schemes in navy blue, forest green and burgundy, fat people bundled into sweatpants, and frigid, unrelenting ice, wind and darkness.

On the other hand, it feels like falling leaves and crisp apple orchard air, cross country skiing across a perfectly still field of snow in blinding white light, peonies speckled with ants, rhubarb pie cooling on the windowsill, the wind on your face and in your hair as you zip across the surface of a lake in July and Katie's baby in my arms, her smooth, warm head nestled into my neck.

It seems sudden, but it isn't really. Eric and I have been discussing it theoretically for awhile. And if the circumstances around us have conspired suddenly to send us moving down this path sooner than we might have liked, there is comfort in knowing the signs are there.

With all the moving I've done, you'd think a move back to where I grew up would be the easiest one of all. Not the case. I'm terrified of this move, terrified of staying in Minneapolis forever. I'm frightened of being in such close proximity to our families, whom I love and bear in equal measures. I'm afraid of continuing to drift, drift, drift. I'm scared of feeling cooped up and conventional.

Living in exotic and far flung places has allowed me to manufacture glamour and hide behind it when things were difficult. I set out to live off the beaten track, but sometimes this feels strangely irresponsible, as if what I am really doing is avoiding life's necessarily dull and tedious moments.

When I think about all the places I've lived and what I've learned from each, I can see that no environment sank into my bones. I meant to investigate the native cultures and traditions of each region, but never sunk my teeth in. Was that because these places didn't really belong to me? Is the choice to go back to Minnesota now at last a chance to commit to something, to see it through in the face of unpleasant realities? Or have Eric and I run out of good ideas and this is all that is left?

In Hawaii, I began to learn openness. I began trying to put myself in alignment with the world, instead of trying to make the world suit me. I learned not to hurry. I learned to practice doing each task required of me with quality. I learned to get comfortable with ambiguity. I learned that I can only change myself. I wasted time. I began learning to accept and investigate my emotions instead of reacting to them.

In Minneapolis, I want to learn how to love wholeheartedly, without judgement. I'd like to know passion. I'd like to know rigor, energy, power. I want to learn how to control and direct my energies, instead of watching them dissipate into the ether and years.

In my thirtieth year, I'd like to trust myself, let go and grow up. Perhaps admitting that this can be done anywhere, even in my hometown, is a perfect start.