Amanda Cleary Eastep
“Breath is the percussion of language…” The tall, willowy yoga instructor said this to the class in a lilt that hinted at her formal actor’s training and enviable diaphragmatic control. At my age, with quadriceps straining to sustain my squatted “goddess” pose, I was just happy to control my bladder. The morning class was the […]
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By Amanda Cleary Eastep I’m not sure why I jumped at the chance. Maybe it just sounded fun. I’m not one to come out from behind written words and the pretty copyright-free stock photo, so taking video footage during my local hikes was a new outlet. When my friend, filmmaker Erin Dooley, invited hikers to […]
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By Amanda Cleary Eastep I was behind the wheel for the first time at the age of 9. OK, so it was just a lawn tractor, and I didn’t see the tree coming. I was looking over my shoulder at the cart I was pulling with my little brother and two older cousins riding in […]
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By Amanda Cleary Eastep The narrow path teaches obedience and strength and trust, But be sure to make room for others. Be sure-footed, But remember to look up. Stay deeply rooted, But know there is forgiveness after a fall. Grow where you’re planted…even in dark places, But let the light in, too. Don’t follow […]
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He hiked the entire Appalachian Trail. All 2,179.1 miles of it in 6 months. Alone. I chatted with him at a recent event at Lake Katherine Nature Center. His essential gear–water pouches, bedroll, and a “cookstove” made from the bottom of a soda can–were spread across the display table.
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I’ve been oddly obsessed with the concept of “purpose” since I was a kid. I had what I would call an “encounter” with God at about the age of nine, and I was convinced that when God “called” you, that meant you had to be a missionary to cannibals. Cannibals eat people. So I just lay in my bed and balled my eyes out.
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Her sturdy frame was hunched as if the bag in one hand and the purse in the other held bricks not books. She reminded me of pictures you see of women from other countries, bent low beneath the weight of baskets or swaddled children…
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Several years ago, a study of 70 million posts on China’s version of Twitter mapped the interactions of users and four key emotions expressed. They found that “anger spreads wider than any other emotion.”
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I had barely mixed the pancake batter before my three year old had launched into her morning ritual. Indifferent to breakfast, and blonde, wispy hair still looking like a homeschool experiment in static electricity, she pointed at the back door and tugged at my hand…
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My grandmother could have a fearful spirit. At the same time she was taking me for walks in the woods and keeping my early wanderlust satiated with pricey subscriptions to National Geographic magazine, she was sticking newspaper clippings about murders and kidnappings beneath our State Farm refrigerator magnets.
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