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In a top-floor flat in Pune, on the third night of the monsoon, a family of four sits after dinner with a single lamp…
On the shortest day of the year, in the older neighborhoods of Kyoto and Osaka, the public bathhouses float whole yellow fruits in their…
In a small flat above a bakery in the 11th arrondissement of Paris, a woman I know keeps a shallow enamel bowl next to…
My grandmother in Kyoto did not practise tea ceremony in the formal sense. She had no tatami room, no scroll on the wall, no…
When the wind comes off the Atlantic in winter and the cold settles into Casablanca, my mother brings out a particular blue enamel bowl…
The monsoon in Bangalore is not a single event. It arrives in waves, sometimes three weeks of grey sky and steady afternoon rain, sometimes…
There is a stone bench near my house in Kyoto, on the slope behind a small Shinto shrine, that points roughly southwest. In the…
My grandmother in Mysore had old hands, hands that had worked for seventy-five years, but they were never dry, and they did not look…
The radio in my parents' kitchen in Treviso was always on in the evenings, but always very quiet. You had to lean toward it…
The first time I tried yoga nidra was in a small studio in Kyoto, on a Sunday afternoon in winter. The teacher, a woman…
My first yoga teacher in Kyoto was an Indian woman who had lived in Japan for twenty years. She ran her class out of…
The first sauna I ever sat in was on a lake in eastern Finland, built of dark wood that had silvered at the corners.…
