For non-professional dancers, dancing is typically an occasional social activity, but for me it is the axis on which my whole social life turns. When I’m simply listening to music, I prefer alternative and acoustic rock, but when I dance, it’s all about swing and blues. Last weekend, I danced into another era, at a Denver event called Lindy Diversion. Swing dancers took classes all day, and danced to a live band or DJ all night — until 4:00 a.m. if they could stay awake. For those of us who dance the Lindy hop, obsession “don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing.”

Dance By Night from Cara Lopez Lee on Vimeo.

When I dance, it’s all about swing and blues.

I grew up with my grandmother, and she and I used to enjoy watching old movies together, especially the musicals of the 30s, 40s, and 50s: Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney, Gene Kelly and anybody. Whenever the music was swing, I wanted to jump up and jitterbug, though I had no idea how. I cut my teeth on big band music by the likes of Tommy Dorsey, Benny Goodman, and Glen Miller. My tastes later expanded to the bad-ass swing, jump-blues, and rhythm-and-blues of artists like Duke Ellington, Count Basie, and Ray Charles. My grandmother used to sing the songs of Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday while doing housework. So, for me, the music of that era hits the same emotional note as the smell of Grand-mom’s homemade apple pie. It’s the soundtrack of my childhood, though it was recorded before my time.
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I’m excited to introduce you to a writer and adventurer who has witnessed a unique battle for women’s rights in Thailand, specifically, the rights of Buddhist nuns. Cat Kurtz is the author of My Heart the Sun, a non-fiction account of Buddhist Theravada nuns’ fight for the right to become bhikkunis, fully ordained Buddhist monastics.

Bhikkunis are fully ordained Theravada Buddhist monastics. These nuns were ordained in Sri Lanka.

Cat has been a witness to this Southeast Asian women’s movement and spiritual revolution since its beginnings in 2002 and she still communicates regularly with nuns in Thailand. Her hope is to keep her promise to give voice to their untold story. Here is a piece of that promise:

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The raspberry lets go of the vine with a soft tug. And another, and another. As I move down rows of bowing green bushes dangling plump rubies, the sun drills my neck with the last blast of summer. I’m reconnecting with my food, going a step farther than the farmers market, straight to the source.

Berry Patch Farms’ is backed by the Rocky Mountains, and fronted by a red barn, skittish chickens, and a truly porky pig.

Just a half hour from my Denver home, tears spring to my eyes as I consider Berry Patch Farms’ long green rows of fruits and veggies — backed by the Rocky Mountains, and fronted by a red barn, skittish chickens, and a truly porky pig. In the city, it’s easy to forget how natural this feels: gathering food from the earth.

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I’ve had such a busy summer, I’ve grown adept at finding hikes that get me out of Denver without taking all day. It was the name of this little trail in Centennial Cone Park that grabbed me: Mayhem Gulch. The name is misleading; the trail is reasonably tame, despite an uphill slog at the start. My husband, Dale, and I walked the 4.5 mile loop. If you go on a weekend, be aware of one unusual rule: on Saturday and Sunday, the park is restricted to mountain bikers on even days and hikers on odd days. The trail starts next to the highway between Golden and Black Hawk, but as you’ll see in this video, the backside offers a respite that will take your city blues away.

Hiking Mayhem Gulch - Centennial Cone Park, near Golden, Colorado from Cara Lopez Lee on Vimeo.

I can’t imagine living in Colorado and not hiking. The Rocky Mountains rise from the plains like a command: “Pay attention!” Sometimes the imperative of living get’s lost in the minutiae of life’s demands. That’s when my inner voice shouts, “Forget deadlines! I need mountains!” I don’t dare ignore that voice. That Cara - she can be kind of pushy.

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