Lux Lotus

On Attention

Today I went back to yoga, and embraced my mellow mode and went to meet a friend for coffee in a look that I would describe as conspiciously unglamorous, no make-up, capped with a poncho an old flame brought back for me from Peru, and I thought, maybe I'm reverting to a former self. I then walked up to SoHo to see friends at an art opening –– and I kept thinking I should put on some lipstick, especially when the photographer came around, but I couldn't be bothered ––  and then across the street to a bar where I ran into another old friend, who got me a drink and was talking over the din and I was just thinking about how nice it was to watch him speak, until I realized that wasn't the point. "You know I can't hear you over the music," I mouthed. He leaned in. ...Fancy places. We should really go to one. Ah, yes; I hear you now.

On Friendship

Woke up this morning and thought to send a dear pal flowers. Just answered the door –– turns out she thought the same thing.

On Practice

I returned to yoga today after a break of a few years, since that summer that I spent at a couple of ashrams Upstate and in Quebec, and at a zen practice center north of San Francisco. I was really open to new experiences, and it was a very special time in my life. I took a detour through the sensual realm and lost sight of my path, as is easy to do. I try to remain focused on what I mean to do in this life, and view distractions as exactly that: follow whims and you're likely to spin in place like a top rather than move ahead, while expending the same amount of energy. 

The first thing that I felt in class today was the intense comfort of returning to a practice, a cultivated habit that on and off has had a key place in my life for twelve years, since the last semester of college, when I, more miserable than I thought I could be, saw an ad in the paper for a yoga studio and went to take a class. In those final few months of school, I suddenly, day by day, began to see things as they were, to appreciate the things that I did enjoy, and not to hold on too tightly to the ones that I felt were stifling me; change is the only constant and, as predicted, they slipped away. Everything slips away, and I am often reminded of a perfect line by Anthony Doerr in his wonderful memoir, Four Seasons in Rome: 'I'm thankful that everything sweet is sweet because it is finite.'

Some things that I know I can do, and well, were too hard to even attempt today, and I recognized my present limits and stopped in a soft and natural way when doing so made sense. I've done yoga enough to know that my practice will be there tomorrow, or next week, or whenever I'm ready to take it up again. I wish I could have that kind of faith in love, or other people. I can always try.

On Martinis

I'm meeting a couple of British writers covering the literary scene in New York for the Telegraph at Cafe Loup later, for a drink.

On Grace

This afternoon, as I was returning from a walk I thought that perhaps I should stop and pick up some champagne for the house but decided against it as I was short on time. At five o'clock sharp, the buzzer rang and it was a friend from the neighborhood stopping by with a very good bottle of bubbly in thanks for a party my sister and I threw for his wife and him last fall. I invited him in for a bourbon, and I think I'll say that to everyone who comes by from now on. A nice visit with a friend, and I have just enough time to slip into a party dress and make it to the Upper East Side by seven, so long as I put my lipstick on in the cab.

On Mellowness

I don't know about you but I feel like I've done more –– and experienced more highs, and lows –– in the first quarter of this year than I did in some entire years past. It's been great going out, and being there for everyone, and everything, all the time, but I'm taking a break from all that. No big news, just exhaling, for me.

On Attraction

Tonight, cocktails and caviar à deux at Pravda, and then on to the Strand for an event featuring Michelle Tea, Stephen Elliott, Michael Cunningham, and lots of other people whom I like and admire. Tomorrow night, a Mad Men costume party at a swinging townhouse in Brooklyn Heights that has to be one of the most beautiful homes in New York. And, at some point, I have to finalize arrangements for London in April, and decide whether to continue on to Paris for a few days. April in Paris. A reader asks about the ring I commissioned. I ordered two. Why compromise? I didn't. I bought these to tide me over: rose quartz, for love, and goldstone, associated with monks, stars and adventure. Like me.

Windowlicker

It seems only natural to extend my delight with giving dinner parties to the great outdoors, and I already have plans for a weekly outing to Governors Island this summer (provided I don't spend a large chunk of the season in the country, or by the sea). It reopens in May, which gives me time to find the perfect basket...

[Premier picnic hamper for 4, £345 at Fortnum & Mason]

Windowlicker is from the French for browsing: faire du lèche-vitrine.

LuxLoves: Family Recipe

Went out for Japanese food at charming Family Recipe on the Lower East Side, shared a lovely dinner. Highly recommended. 

On Patience

I'm going to see a jeweler about a ring I've wanted made for years.