Why are the July farmer’s market cabbages as big or bigger than bowling balls? Do we need to worry about growth hormones in our produce now? What am I supposed to do with ten pounds of cabbage? I told the guy behind the table that all his cabbages both green and red alike are too big for human consumption beyond being purchased by an Evangelical Christian family of 18. Even living with a Hungarian housemate (as I do) is not going to solve the big cabbage problem.

Even so, I bought it and brought it home. But not before tripping over a yet another dog on my way out. I do not recommend it (buying a jumbo cabbage or tripping over a dog) unless you want to haul out the slow cooker, which is exactly what I did. (To cook the cabbage, not the dog.)

I just returned from the Hood River Fruit Loop - the produce “trail” of the Columbia River Gorge Valley in Oregon and Washington, a 35-mile scenic driving route featuring over 30 member stops of wineries, fruit stands, local orchards, lavender farms, and bakeries. The Rainier cherries were particularly good, as were the peaches.

Raspberries, blackberries, and blueberries grow like weeds on the edge of walking trails, free for the picking. I especially enjoyed visiting French’s Farm, a new enterprise in Lyle, Washington, that doubles as a wholesale outdoor plant nursery and homemade ice cream and waffle cone store. The day I visited they were offering up a rhubarb ice cream as well as a brie-berry strawberry one as their weekly specials. I got one scoop of each in a waffle cone. So good!

The best part of my trip was seeing my Auntie Helen. It is crazy how time does fly no matter what your intentions - I was sure I would return in five years or less. The last time I was there, I left my running shoes, hat, Jade Yoga mat, and a bottle of wine from a local winery which I “hid” on top of her kitchen cupboards to age for the winery’s recommended five years. Then sixteen years passed! But I made it back.

YouTube: Helen and her husband Bill dancin’

Cabbage and Ground Turkey Slow Cooker Recipe

Blessings & Love,

This week I ended a three-year relationship with my water bottle. We parted ways in my hotel room in Portland, Oregon. I bought the cerulean-tinted Nalgene (pronounced NAL-jeen) water bottle at a Target in Charlottesville, Virginia in December 2023. The reason I left it behind in the room’s recycle bin was not because it was damaged or because I wanted to switch to another brand. I was trying to make room in my luggage and…I really want the cherry blossom pink one.

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At this writing-moment I am yet again resisting the urge to grab my trusty swatter to kill the fly that is buzzing in the window (I am Diana the Huntress incarnate during the summer months) and instead enjoying the cool mountain breeze through the lace curtains on my bare, footstool-ed feet while gazing through the maple and oak leaves at the active stratovolcano, Mount Hood, in the distance.

That’s the thing about travel - or at least changing up your normal routine - it gives you new perspective.

If you normally live in a humid part of the country/world, in the summer you can escape to the simplicity of arid heat, like that of the desert or mountaintop. I planned this trip to visit my aunt, but as an added bonus it turns out I have subjected myself to the simplicity of a hot summer day with breezes and no weather-drama. The only drama so far has been finding Llamas in the back garden this morning.

There are wineries in this area of Washington, so yesterday I visited Syncline Winery, which specializes in biodynamic estate wines. The tasting space was ensconced in an outdoor garden, where you could choose where to sit - Adirondack chair or couch cushion? - with umbrellas all around and bees buzzing in the lavender plots. I am reveling in the fact that I made the prior decision to not check any luggage for this trip, so it was easy to not “worry” about transporting bottles of wine, since you can’t have liquids in a carryon. Sometimes tasting something is enough. And - sometimes it isn’t. I am coming home with three pounds of coffee from Coava Coffee Roasters, though. Lord knows I have my priorities straight.

One thing I did unfortunately miss out on during this visit was going to Fossil, Oregon with the family to visit my cousin Dan Robinson and his wife Melanie. Dan is a renaissance man, mega-talented at both painting and songwriting. Aside from his lovely wife Melanie having such a beautiful name, she is a beautiful and talented woman herself, and a big thank you goes out to her for the gorgeous hand-made coasters she sent back as a present for me.

I have her to thank for pointing me in the direction of Diana Gabaldon’s books over twenty years ago. Melanie really listened to my yearning for a return trip to Scotland (this was back in 2005) and gave me the remedy which was Diana’s books. I returned home from that visit with Dan and Mel and read the entire Outlander series, which saved me from bothering to watch the later television series. Not meaning to offend anyone who enjoyed the television series - I tried several times to watch it but couldn’t transpose the brain synapses created from Gabaldon’s book storytelling to the screen version. To me, it smacked of soap opera-y energy. If I need a hit of Scotland man-swoon, I’ll pull up a Gerard Butler film or interview, thank you. All set.

I wish all of you a cool breeze, a good book, an unexpected sighting, and a deep, Yogic breath.

Dan Robinson

Blessings & Love,

I am visiting my Auntie Helen at her mountain home near Lyle, Washington. Like the Missouri River creates a border between Iowa and Nebraska, the Columbia River creates one between Washington and Oregon. The Hood River Bridge had to be crossed before the mountain was ascended - a steel truss bridge with two-way traffic that is a bit scary if you take your eyes from the straight-ahead to look out at the windsurfers on the river with their colorful kites.

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I am nothing if not literal, so when you see words in my Substack title like “walk” and “path,” I am talking about concrete, neighborhoods, and parks. Sure, the metaphor can be there, if you insist. Both the Coneflower Creamery - the best ice cream in the Mi…

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One of the (few) things I enjoy about living in this particular century is the weather forecast “heads-up” that we get on a moment-to-moment basis. We plan our lives - leave the house, don’t leave the house - and gardening projects around the weather forecast. Only in the recent prairie-life pioneer-past did we have to busy ourselves reading the signs of the wind, flora, fauna, and continuously consult the dogeared Farmer’s Almanac as our forebearers did. (Speaking of Little House on the Prairie, please stop sending me preview trailers of the “new” LHOTP. Some television series should not be remade, and this is one of them. You have been warned.) According to your laptop and phone settings, we can see the current and the forecasted weather, along with the weather of your caring and concern from across the globe. At the moment, my little birds eye weather-watchings include Ireland, Scotland, Nova Scotia (curiously, many people in the UK don’t seem to know where Nova Scotia - “New Scotland” - is located), and Upstate New York. You know - in case I have to boogie.

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Down (a ways) below is a reconfigured Substack post I wrote one year ago regarding my Yoga students and our podcast platform, Bhadra Yoga House. This week I am gearing up for a second season of podcasting, getting familiar with the rockin’ new podcasting studio at the new Central Library Do Space which just opened in Omaha this pa…

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Hang on tight - the Summer Solstice is upon us. This year, Father’s Day marks the beginning of the season of flowers, family vacations, outdoor activities, the smell of outdoor cooking and barbeque, and the sound of fireworks.

Lately, I’ve been walking my favorite neighborhoods in Omaha - Dundee, Elmwood, Field Club, the Blackstone District, and the Old Market. I look for the variations and similarities of the trees, walkways, houses, and flowerbeds. Currently, the lilies are in full bloom all around Omaha.

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You take your life into your hands if you head east down Leavenworth (the street, not the prison) or Dodge Street during the College World Series in Omaha (is it anywhere else?). Because once you get to about 30th Street, they become one way. And that’s where the trouble begins. Out-of-towners - always driving a massive pickup truck or SUV - don’t see t…

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I currently reside with two people who can barely boil water. Thank God for the automatic ice maker on the fridge, because they wouldn’t know how to make ice either. So why can I all of a sudden not find the dried oregano? When someone in a household finishes a spice, that someone needs to ring a fu*king bell, call a family meeting, or send a mass email. Some of us have been living with our various bottled spices for longer than our household relationships have been in existence.

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Our body parts seem to be wearing out more quickly than TV sitcom actors from the 1970s. But we look better at 50 than they did.

If you are Gen-X or older, you remember the B…

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My first-of-the-day Google search this morning: “Why is it called a podcast?” That is what I am thinking about post-dream, pre-coffee. What is the “pod” referring to…the teeny-tiny closet-room you record in? Is it referencing the “two peas in a pod” adage? Two people with headphones on crammed into the teeny-tiny closet-room recording their conversation? Why not room-cast or chat-cast? On the radio you are broadcasting (across the airwaves), in that same teeny-tiny closet-room.

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This week marks a few milestones.

First, it has been three years since my first post here on the Substack platform. To celebrate, I have reposted my first-ever post below - Your Spiritual Journey Awaits. Thank you, Yogahag Journal subscribers!

Second, a big shoutout goes to Lisa and Dan Kammerer. We three have been meditating together on Zoom every single Sunday morning at 7:30 am for FOUR YEARS. I love you guys!

And finally, my one and only child turns 31 this week. Happy Birthday, Quinton! Read my Substack. Your mother loves you.

Thanks for being here, everyone! See you soon.

Your Spiritual Journey Awaits

The life-enhancing benefits of Yoga

Yoga in all its forms has thoroughly permeated Western culture. Since its explosion in the 1960s, many more Americans now know Yoga as more than just a system of exercises. Mother India has also taught us that it is an ancient science and psychology. Almost 70 years ago we latched on, and like a tenacious bulldog with a rag bone, we are not letting it go.

Today, those of us with a consistent Yoga practice have gone above and beyond a workout regimen into the realm of lifestyle, which gives us expansive choices and benefits within that framework. Beyond the physical practice, we can now look past the attire and props to find the practices of vegetarianism, conservationism, environmentalism, the advocacy of human rights, women’s rights, comprehensive inclusion, and other altruistic endeavors. It is a lifelong journey on the path of Spirit with many hands to hold along the way.

“Gradually but inevitably.” - Krishna Das

Most people come to a Yoga class in search of physical or mental health support. Once they do the work and realize those benefits, they discover so much more than the latest brand of leggings. Community and spirituality envelop the practice from the outset. For example, if a Yoga practice is taught by a classically trained Yoga instructor, the elements of Indian culture inevitably seep in. Practitioners are exposed to the Sanskrit names for the poses, the Indian deities, songs and storytelling, mantra repetition and breathwork. With these elements included beyond the pose-practice, Yoga becomes life-enhancing, affirming, enriching, altering, and much more sustainable.

With more and more work, play, and healthcare options available online, we can choose to stay home and enjoy the benefits of Yoga practice and community. People move away and people travel here and there, but Yoga communities can remain intact thanks to livestreaming platforms like Zoom. We still share real-time, but even when not in the same room, we continue to practice the spiritual acts of breathing, thinking positive thoughts, and creating intentions - together. And you can’t get that from Instagram. Shared experiences occur through the act of continuously showing up for our individual experience while in the presence of a spiritual community. That community then becomes our witness - and we become theirs.

Krishna Das Summer Tour Schedule

Spring 2026 Playlist

Blessings & Love,

Photo Credits: Melanie McLeod | center - Alex, Omaha, NE | bottom - Woodstock, NY

How is your Spring going where you are? Here in Omaha, we are enjoying Spring-y mornings and retreating into our air-conditioned dwellings in the afternoons. I am, anyway. I’ve settled into a schedule with work, workouts, teaching, and writing. The flowers are blooming, the bees are buzzing, and I’m getting rid of more clutter - more stuff.

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Now that I am back home in Omaha and working again in the (Steve’s) garden, I am noticing the bees. They are so happy, busy, and drunk on pollen. They even seem a bit greedy, looking weighed down enough with pollen to return to the hive, but continuing about their business as if gravity does not affect them. Do you know which native sp…

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In addition to my enjoyment of the everyday sights and sounds, I appreciate a good smell. I have tried and failed year after year to keep enough space free in my suitcase to bring back laundry detergent from the UK. In 2022, I had secured space for a delightful bottle of watermelon-scented Surf liquid laundry detergent that, unlike liquid bottles of det…

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OK - I just looked it up for those of you not residing in the Fahrenheit-exclusive US, and the temperature here in Nebraska is 28C. Later today, it will be 33C. That is hot. True, it is not Japan-August humid-hot but it’s hot, nonetheless. Nebraska has been in a drought of some stage since 2020. Everything is dirty and dry. The lilacs were early this year, the morel mushrooms choked out early as well, but we are being blessed with peony blooms at the moment.

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My favorite accent is the Irish. Although, while in the Manchester airport waiting for an Amish family to check their bags, I did chat briefly with a Northern Ireland man from Belfast, and that is now my particularly favorite accent. I could have easily listened to him talk to me all day long about the “travesty that is the Mancheste…

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During my 20s and 30s I would travel in a primarily westerly direction from my home in Nebraska. Not because of anything Horace Greeley quoted in the nineteenth century, but because my aunt lives in Washington State and my uncle lives in California. I had friends in Portland and in-laws in Spokane. Back then, the closest Krishna Das …

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