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Yoga teacher (RYT 200), adventurer, storyteller happily based in California. Support my writing dreams —>

Staring depression in the face.

Yellow primrose flower (photograph mine)

I spent my entire 40th year looking forward to turning 40. I was never 39. I was always almost 40. I was truly, sincerely excited by the idea of being 40. I was under the impression turning 40 was going to propel me to greater and greater heights. At the very least, I could settle into my wrinkles a little easier.

I had plans. In the weeks leading up to my birthday, I thought about writing an inspiring essay on all the ways turning 40 was going to change my life. Turning 40 would allow me to embrace myself more…

I was talking on the phone earlier with Kathryn Dillon. We were catching up on life, talking about the state of the world, and giving + receiving advice on how to make a relationship work. To be clear, she was giving, and I was receiving, hahaha. And I thought several times how amazing it was I found myself having a real, enjoyable conversation with a brilliant writer and friend I’d made online. It still fills me with wonder and gratitude hours later. Thank you, Kathryn.

This weekend, I might take another yoga class with Bella Linda. As two new yoga…

A Creative Humans Prompt

Me doing Dancer’s Pose in Grey Mountain, Arizona while on a cross-country road trip, October 2020


I’ll keep this short and sweet.

As most of you know from my last letter, I took an indefinite break from accepting submissions to Creative Humans. This is NOT a reversal of that but rather, a moment of flow in which I am answering a call within to offer a very specific, timely prompt. This does not mean CH is back as usual. It means, if you’re up for it, here’s a prompt for you:

What has your creativity been like in 2020?

How have you practiced creativity in 2020? How has it helped you cope and keep going in 2020…


A 2020 Odyssey

It started in August as a gut reaction to news my dad had been hospitalized. At the peak of my anxiety, I thought I would get in my car and start driving. It would take about a day to reach Oklahoma. One of my sisters and her family live an hour from dad, so I could see them, too.

Once I realized dad didn’t have COVID, and was recovering from something else, the overwhelming sense of urgency eased but I had a feeling I’d be on the road soon anyway. …


It’s been five years since I left South Sudan. I still remember the morning I left. I remember the light and the smells in the airport. I remember being driven along the streets of Juba, staring out my window as I tried to take it all in one last time.

I remember my best friend surprising me at the airport, and standing next to me the entire time I waited in the security line. I held the back of his neck as we hugged. …


“Failure is where all of the lessons are. Successful people fail a lot. They fail a whole lot more than they succeed. They extract the lessons from the failure and they use the wisdom to come around to the next phase of success.” ~Will Smith

After months of training, I taught my first public yoga class. It was a virtual event hosted by my training organization, and I had invited friends and family to attend. Nine people outside of my training group showed up which made the class size 15. …


Yesterday I bought and played a harmonica for the first time in my life. The day before that I woke up at 6:30am then went back to sleep until 11am. The day before that I read a poem I wrote to my yogi mates at the park:

I went down to the river to watch the fish swim by
But when I got to the river so lonesome I wanted to die, oh Lord
So that I jumped in the river, but the doggone river was dry
She’s long gone, and now I’m lonesome blue…

And then I said, “Just…

Image mine

I don’t know where I’m going with this, but here I go anyway.

Wendell Berry wrote a short poem that reminds me of what I just wrote. It’s number XXII. in his collection of Sabbath Poems, and it keeps swirling around my mind, seeing if I’m ready to understand it yet. Which makes it seem like a long poem. It goes like this:

There is a day
when the road neither
comes nor goes, and the way
is not a way but a place.

~Wendell Berry

Yes, I am seeking out literature written by black writers, and also reading some…

A friend reached out to me yesterday, wondering how I’m doing. He said he hadn’t heard from me in a while and wanted to make sure I’m ok.

It’s been 36 days since the last time I wrote here.

Truthfully, I can’t tell you exactly why I stopped showing up to use my voice, in this particular sphere. I’m still figuring it out for myself. …


I’ve been trying to grow quieter lately.

The world has grown noisier, and it’s been hurting my eyes and ears and heart. We are being bombarded with information. This, what you’re reading, is another example of that. It won’t hurt my feelings if you stop reading now. I write this for myself, as I write it for you.

I’ve been seeking solace in the trees and the sky and the tiny waves of water ducks create as they glide across the pond, tail feathers curled upward. I’ve been finding solace in slowing down, moving my body and breath with intention…

Lindsay Lonai Linegar 🌼

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