Become a Member

Get access to more than 30 brands, premium video, exclusive content, events, mapping, and more.

Already have an account? Sign In

Become a Member

Get access to more than 30 brands, premium video, exclusive content, events, mapping, and more.

Already have an account? Sign In

Brands

Wisdom

Teachers Share Poems They Read at the End of Class

Yoga Teacher Danni Pomplun shares his favorite poem to wind down class.

Lock Icon

Become a member to unlock this story and receive other great perks.

Already have an Outside Account? Sign in

Outside+ Logo

All Access
Fall Sale
$1.52 / week*

  • A $500 value with everything in the Print + Digital Plan plus 25+ benefits including:
  • Member-only content on all 17 publications in the Outside network like Vegetarian Times, Clean Eating, Yoga Journal, Outside and more
  • Exclusive yoga sequences from top teachers
  • Live and on-demand yoga classes
  • More than 100 diet-specific meal plans
  • Try out best-in-class yoga & fitness gear and apparel for free before you buy
Join Outside+
Yoga Journal

Print + Digital
Special Price
$0.50 / week *

  • Annual subscription to Yoga Journal magazine
  • Access to all member-exclusive content on YogaJournal.com
  • Ad-free access to YogaJournal.com
Join Yoga Journal

*Outside memberships are billed annually. You may cancel your membership at anytime, but no refunds will be issued for payments already made. Upon cancellation, you will have access to your membership through the end of your paid year. More Details

 Advice to Myself, by Louise Erdrich

Leave the dishes.

Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator

and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor…

Let the wind have its way, then the earth

that invades as dust and then the dead

foaming up in gray rolls underneath the couch.

Talk to them. Tell them they are welcome…

Pursue the authentic—decide first

what is authentic,

then go after it with all your heart.

Your heart, that place

you don’t even think of cleaning out…

Accept new forms of life

and talk to the dead

who drift in through the screened windows, who collect

patiently on the tops of food jars and books.

Recycle the mail, don’t read it, don’t read anything

except what destroys

the insulation between yourself and your experience

or what pulls down or what strikes at or what shatters

this ruse you call necessity.

We’re inundated with information—and yet, we are starving for wisdom. What I love about this poem is the message not to fuss with the small stuff. Don’t waste your time and your energy trying to manipulate the dust or shove things under the rug: “Let the celery rot in the drawer,” and talk to the dust bunnies—get to know them. 

This poem reminds me of the idea in yoga that you don’t have to imitate the person next to you: When you can embody where you’re really at, instead of being addicted to the drama or forcing your body into a shape, you can connect to a greater version of yourself.

Danni Pomplun, San Francisco–based yoga teacher