Hey there, it’s Rachel.
Writer. Urban yogi. Recent expat. Soccer mom who grumbles with my husband on the sidelines trying to silently recite Zen mantras so I don’t go yell at the ref. Trivia whiz. Mediocre piano player. Even worse cook (ask my kid). Daily trying not to blow it.
Chopping wood and carrying water, you know.
This blog has a new name, and a new home.
Deepen Your Fold started as a joke. My old friends Rob and Joy (who’ve been practicing with me since I started teaching 15 years ago in Oakland, CA) laughed that they were going to make me a t-shirt that said Deepen Your Fold since I say it all the time.
Of course, I had no idea. Turns out after teaching 4000+ classes, you aren’t always aware of the linguistic rhythms your body settles into. I just know every time you inhale to lengthen, you’ve gotta exhale and deepen your fold. Yoga, baby.
Days later, I realized: well, damn, it’s actually kind of perfect.
Deepen your fold. Cut the crap. Shun the superficial. Dive into what truly matters. Bow to what’s real.
That’s everything to me.
Buddhist psychotherapist and yoga teacher Michael Stone used to say: “Yoga is the practice of learning to be real.”
I’ve always loved that.
But so much about the yoga world these days feels like fluff. Expensive pants and IG follower counts and performative nonsense. Trend pieces touting the 6 sexiest brands of sports bras and your horoscope for tomorrow. You know.
Last summer, we packed up our Swiss life of six years in Basel and made the massive international move back to the Pacific Northwest. It was tough and emotional and all-encompassing. Now that the dust has finally settled and we’re growing fledgling roots here in Seattle, I’ve been able to return to my writing again. And it’s so good to be back in my happy place in front of the laptop.
But the publishing world isn’t much better, to be honest. Editors want shallow 600-word blurbs that they can tie to product sales, or listicles with click-baity headlines, preferably hooked to celebrities. And part of getting published in mainstream publications is having to muzzle your own voice, to neuter it a bit to suit a newspaper or an audience. Losing your personality and your own self, you know?
I’m too old for that shit.
The kind of writing I want to do, and love to do — thoughtful and intelligent, soulful and practical and deeply rooted in yoga philosophy and interfaith wisdom, with a few unruly swears baked in — doesn’t really fit most glossy magazines or wellness websites, many of which are struggling to survive anyway.
And many of us increasingly want to be able to stay connected without having to rely on social media apps run by right-wing billionaires, right?
Enter Substack — my new literary practice mat.
I love that writers here can publish independently for themselves, and build a community of curious, supportive folks, and create a sustainable income outside of crumbling mainstream journalism. I love that newsletters land directly in your inboxes so that we don’t have to rely on social media algorithms to stay connected. And I love hearing from (and cheering for) artists and creatives and folks whose voices might otherwise not be represented in mainstream media.
Not only that — but I love that we’ll be able to practice yoga and meditation here together soon, too. I’m planning to start sharing free monthly practices, direct to your inbox. (Coming soon, provided the tech gods shine on us.)
Subscribe here to get full regular access to the free newsletter and publication archives. You can count on me to write now and then. Not too often. Just enough.
That’s the evergreen-scented news from my back porch. Thanks for being here. Things are politically and culturally rocky here in the US right now, and we need each other. We need depth. We need truth-telling. And we need connection.
Let’s drop in together, okay?
Deepen your fold.
