Watching Venezuela win the World Baseball Classic filled my heart in a way that’s hard to describe—but as I always say to my students, I’ll try.

(Lessons from my dirty dishes) I found myself with a little extra time this morning. My “ladies holiday” interrupted my morning Ashtanga practice, so after my spiritual reading and pranayama, I found myself washing the dishes left in the sink from last night — nothing glamorous, just the ordinary rhythm of caring for my family. Along with several plates and cutlery, there was one bowl with the remnants of a frozen watermelon-and-mint treat I had enjoyed the previous evening.

Valentine’s Day, for some, means flowers and romance. For me, it’s a quiet ache that returns each year like a familiar tide. Valentine’s Day typically sells romantic love as the main course—loving couples, roses, reservations, a celebration of love, but also the idea that love is something we prove to others in a commercialized and materialistic way.