Recently I watched “Joy,” a fantastic film starring Jennifer Lawrence about the QVC queen who invented a self-wringing “mop of the future.” It’s a happy story about relentlessness and working toward accomplishing of one’s goals. And, in light of the disgusting hatred that is happening in this world, most recently Orlando, I want to quote Bloomberg’s divine comments on my favourite line from the film.

“… ‘Joy’ celebrates creativity without credentials. It acknowledges both extraordinary gifts and ordinary life. While Sorkin’s Zuckerberg shows contempt for anyone who doesn’t match his formidable intellect, Joy treats everyone with respect. ‘Even if I was a cleaning lady, so what?’ she tells her young daughter when a playmate teases the girl about the so-far unsuccessful mop. ‘There’s no shame in hard work.'” – (

“Joy treats everyone with respect.” 

Last night around the ten o’clock hour, my tire blew. A fabulous big huge monster tire. In prime condition. I drove upon a glass bottle. As I watched the air pressure-reading on my dashboard migrate quickly to zero, I drove the 20 seconds to safety, realising that my AAA membership had expired (damnit), arranging for a renewed membership (thank goodness I brought my wallet), and that I just wanted to be home to complete my nightly rituals of eat dinner and sleep.

Last month, I would have blown up, like my tire.

But last night, I stayed calm and took a 90-minute nap with my dog whilst waiting for the AAA guy.

He was so nice. And efficient. At the end of our very quick appointment, he said, “Ma’am, can I please thank you? You’re one of maybe 15 people, in all of the time that I’ve been doing this, who have been nice to me on these calls. Normally they’re screaming and yelling, treating me like an incompetent. But they don’t know that I’m the only guy for all of Pittsburgh. And I always have five more calls on my screen. So I just want to thank you.”

I’m starting to cry even typing this. Because I might have been a nasty witch if this had been a month ago.

My yoga practice is expanding in ways that I cannot even begin to describe right now, mainly because I want to be quiet.







“The mediator between head and hands must be the heart.” – Metropolis, 1927.