Dyana lives in Santa Cruz, California with her partner Leaf; together they spend quiet summers traversing the coyote path near their adobe abode in Taos, New Mexico. In SC Dyana practices massage therapy and writes beautiful poetry. She has a luscious garden and loves sharing her harvest with close friends.
Tell us a little about yourself, the glitter and the grit: Mostly grit with a little understated glitter. When I was younger and had more hormones the glitter sparkled louder. Now others would have to look a little harder but it is always still there. Zen glitter.
What is your daily practice? When I was a mother my daily practice was mothering. It was all encompassing and I took it very seriously. I raised a fabulous kid because of it (and him) and of course all the help I asked for and received.
My massage work has always been a great love in my life. (30 years worth)
Now with Aza in college my practices have bloomed. I have a meditation practice, a writing practice, a tea ceremony practice. (I have a weekly tea lesson) and a daily gratitude practice.
I also do yoga, shamanic work, exercise, have a sustaining winter garden right now.
My relationship with Leaf for 18 years and my girlfriends are always mirrors and helping me to evolve. Although these are not practices per se I keep them all humming, like plates spinning on a jugglers fingers.
Favorite color?? Vermillion red
Do you want to be right or do you want to be happy? Ask yourself this a lot when your kids become teenagers.
The earth is alive and magic is afoot.
And, why do you love being a woman? I love the stunning beauty of the female form in all its shapes. I love the complexity and brilliance of the female mind. I love our ability to multitask. I love our resilience.
Photo Credits: Leaf Leathers
Want to read a few of Dyana's poems?
Nine Month Poem
I have been composing a great poem in my head all day long, Letʼs be truthful: for weeks now.
It is about ladybugs mating on three foot chard leaves how they lift off, two tiny oranges stranded in the sky.
It is about the ﬁrst delphiniums tended so carefully. Pushed to the ground; a winter rain in June.
It is about our top heavy civilization. We are ﬂooded, wet with solutions. As the next generation lifts itself up we can hardly wait to unwind leather laces pull off damp boots and lay down in the tall grass like when we were children, watch clouds drift in clusters like grapes right above our heads, for the picking.
This great poem hangs milky on the horizon of itʼs own dawn trills like tiny wrens slipping through my morning sleep; the sunʼs ﬁrst rays.
I wake wary but gladness dumps itʼs light on me breaks open the mouth of love today and again tomorrow. I sit in the crotch of grace inhale clouds until the words tear like skin, pale blue, coated with the damp sheen of birth. -Dyana Basist, 6-11
See How Coyote Shines
Coyotes are back! Unable to keep their mouthʼs shut they warble, howl, shriek, yip to passing sirens. The rainy dusk is set on ﬁre.
Dogs in the neighborhood go mad with desires of freedom. People go mad with longing.
Bring in your pets, neighbors. Stillness hovers in the air like a hawk but donʼt be tricked the full moon is rising. Pull your blankets tight keep your windows ajar. There is no need to wait hormones and howling will split your skull of dreams, blasted awake until the blue mud of dawn.
In the morning a catʼs paw sticks straight up: back half of a calico buried among the beets
Coyote jumps straight up twists in two directions at once prances, runs in circles chases itʼs tail ﬂies up through willow branches after blue jays. Coyote has wings and bright teeth wants it all and in the suburbs squatting until spring in Rodeo Gulch the pack will ﬁnd it. -Dyana Basist, 11-22-10