He was an entire curriculum wrapped in a bald-headed package with the most beautiful hands she'd ever touched. His lessons were tough -- on living now and letting go and loving hard when there's love to be had.
I knew because of the way I felt and the emotions I was receiving, I had harnessed something special. The spirit called me and I knew I had to learn more about Yoga. I wanted to learn about Pranayama, chakras, divine callings, asanas, heart openers, tradition and mantras. I didn't know if I wanted to be a Yoga teacher but I knew I wanted to delve deep into the practice; I just wanted to live life, experience life, live the journey, not worry about the destination. This is really what living is about, right?
Moment by moment, we breathe. Within the silence of our breath, we find that respite and calm. I remind myself of this simple fact from time to time when feeling a bit overwhelmed by the world and all its goings-on. I stop and focus on the breath and think of nothing.
Make your art. Tell the truth. Take that selfie. Step into yourself. Wear that dress. You know the one I'm talking about. The one that feels like heat and sex and swirls around your legs like the sweet seduction of freedom.
I raise my hand,
aware that this act will not be well received.
I do not care.
This is not about me.
This is about my sisters
who were burned at the stake for their defiance.
This is about my sisters
who are murdered
for their gender
and sexual expression
As we grow and change as humans, so do our relationships. I understand this, just as I understand that at the end of the day, we have to learn to be our own pillars of strength. We need to learn to claw our way out from the jowls of hell of our own creation that we throw ourselves into of our own accord.
I wish we all received the same kind of instruction about our bodies. I wish that as soon as we became body-conscious, we had been taught to never copy someone else's physical lines, to never attempt to make another's lines our own.
It takes practice, but now I can ask myself and get a clear Divine answer. Is this feeling from the past? Does this reaction have to do with the present? How am I truly feeling? In the quiet, the Spirit world will always answer.
It's easy to cultivate our own honey. And, who wouldn't want to make themselves sweeter? All you've gotta do is place the hand on your heart while in a deep, heart opening backbend and the honey will start flowing. But be careful, the bees will gather.
The 5 elements and the 4 directions are archetypal and energetic maps that are as metaphorical as they are very real and embodied. Everything we see, taste, touch, feel, and do can be interpreted through the gateway of the elements within and without.
Society lies to us when it bombards us with what love looks like, how we must look like to be pretty and feminine, to be masculine, to be good God-fearing people – we are surrounded by lies. How then do we challenge those lies to find our true truth? What would our lives be like without all the lies? Who would we become, how would we move in the world, interact with others, how would we love? How many people have been driven insane by their own lies? How many have committed heinous crimes based on their own lies? How many people have stayed in relationships that were bad because of lies?
Every night he tucked her in,
his folds of thickest fur,
he loved to watch her color rise
as warmth enveloped her,
and sometimes in her deepest sleep
he'd see a bit of cheer
in the lifted corners of her mouth,
the one he held so dear.
We are all messy hearts pulled apart by computer screens and pride, and I wholeheartedly believe that if we could, we'd remove the digital screens and run up to each other, arms open and sit cross-legged with each other for hours, just enjoying each other.
They were so similar then, both strange and dangerous, they were strangerous, they were wild and untamable with stars in their eyes. At least she had been, at first. They were like lion cubs in love, reckless and roaring and rolling and playing, blind to life's rules and deaf to the heeds of those who told them to slow down, to be careful. But it was like when Harry runs to Sally on New Year's Eve and says, "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." They could find no reason to wait to drown in each other.
"First, you'll watch Steve do me," said Wendy in her soft voice. Her dark curls framed her porcelain skin and full lips. She was about my age. On the wall behind her was a poster of a recent award-winning film. I realized she was a filmmaker, like me, and it occurred to me that this would make a great scene in a Woody Allen film.
In casting off your armor, you now sit in the world naked with baby flesh that needs caring for. And your belief needs to be in the newly exposed self that you barely know. And you have to get to know it, believe in it and care for it, all at the same time.
Thank you to my ten ten heroes, one manager, She and Angel -- the profundity of your presence and the gifts as a result of your actions: all quiet, loving and frightful have had a ripple effect on how things can be better in our world -- because of your courage in being who you are and nothing more. The messy, beautiful you. And I know it will continue to do so.
I hope you know how loved you are.
I hope you know it in your marrow and
in the space between heartbeats.
I hope the weight of it crushes you.
I hope it obliterates your preciousness and untruths.
I hope you wake up
In its small boat, let compassion put up its white flags of hope that stretch in the fierce wind, and sail on the ocean of your beautiful and complex life, far out to the horizon of hope and possibilities.
A child is born from its mother in a small room. It grows from within her and comes out a hole in her body that's invisible. It's like a magic portal that only doctors can see. She brings the baby home and cares for it as it grows up. Once the baby is old enough to care for itself, her parents are no longer needed. They are taken away by God and the baby is alone. Now the baby must become a mother.
Dear Professor, you probably don't remember me. It was a long, long time ago since you've seen me and I am sure you have had many students come and go since I last sat in your class. To be completely honest, the images are a bit fuzzy for me as well.
Even to this day, people would question my being a feminist if I wear beautiful dresses, braid my long hair, let my man support me and be proud of my body -- honoring the woman body out loud. I am more of a feminist today than I ever was, because I no longer oppress myself and my body.
You see, I have a disease. It's called Dissatisfaction Disorder. Its main symptom is an inability to appreciate the present moment, coupled with a drive to do and be more, accompanied by the nagging fear that this is as good as it gets.
When you take the quiet time to be with Spirit, you will learn to see yourself from that perspective. Once we experience ourselves in the Divine, a switch flips on and then you will have to work at turning it off. And now that it is on, try experiencing your body as Divine.
There are many who have difficulty moving forward in their lives because of the weight of their own karma. They become paralyzed, unable to make constructive headway, constantly worrying about what lies ahead of them due to their past actions.
She was, of course, hesitant. After years and years of looking after others, was it time for someone to look after her? Her big, dark, beautiful eyes stared at me and questioned whether they were, in fact, seeing what they saw. I could tell that she needed me, and I her.
This is bliss to me. These are my own walls tumbled into a crumpled mess on the floor. I love to let people in. I love to see the sparkle in people's eyes about anything and everything that makes their heart sing.
Like every other practice, with repetition and re-enforcement, I am learning to minimize the negative forces in my life by removing my energy and focus from them. I focus on the good, the possibilities, and gratitude for all things awesome that are in my life at the moment.
at the tinkling laughter of a stranger before
just because I was feeling a little lonely.
a little too verklempt.
Oh yes, too verklempt, indeed.
My mouth set in a decidedly twitchy black and pitchy frown.
Truly, phlegm is the No. 1 enemy in our system.
Not so long ago, my neighbor in Bangalore died because of a mosquito bite. She caught dengue fever and, in less than three days, she was dead, leaving behind two teenage children and a husband.
Four months later, her 16-year-old daughter came to me and requested Yoga classes to lose weight. She was very overweight.
And my work started.
I taught her no Yoga at our first session. Instead, I explained to her the real cause of her mother’s death. I told her how it was phlegm, and not dengue fever, that killed her.
The intestinal tract and the bile in the stomach simply refuse to absorb something that will not nourish the body, let alone the mind. The intestinal tract is eight meters long, and has many small buds, which are responsible for the absorption of nutrients in to the system.
Whatever cannot be absorbed is expelled out of...
"When life knocks you down, try to land on your back, because if you can look up, you can get up," says Les Brown. If the tears parade down your cheeks and the pain is too much to endure, "Don't cry to give up. Cry to keep going," as Eric Thomas advises.
We don't have to ever really grow up. Society tells us we should. But I say we shouldn't. I say we should always stay amazed by life, always be grateful for the small, simple things. For sunshine, for friendships, for beauty, for music, for nature and to move our bodies and stretch our imaginations.
Dreams of the end of the world -- the intricacies of which rivaled any apocalyptic blockbusters of Hollywood. From a very young age, we were prepped; warned that we might be split up from our family, tortured and tested.
I smile and close my eyes, imagining the wind is salty, fresh and reeking of a place beyond America’s shores, and that the crunching below my feet is not broken glass but shell shards, rocks and endless grains of sand.
And that was sort of what her therapist was saying, now, that people were already talking, don’t give them all the gory details of the downfall. Fall apart in private. Go into hiding. Like a big fat depressed bear for winter. See who she was in the spring.
Is there any greater cliché than the ability a caterpillar has to transform into a butterfly? Is there anything more fundamentally magical in the natural world? When the caterpillar is in a cocoon, its entire body basically turns into a jello-like substance, utterly disintegrating so it can re-crystallize into something wholly new. I can't help but think the caterpillar has no idea what he is getting into when he wraps himself so tight, frozen as his body parts dissolve at their seams.
Learning to listen to the messages of our emotional, mental and physical body helps us to stay in better contact with our intuition. This makes us see and choose only what keeps us healthy, happy and vital.
This beginning that I have worked hard for is only a beginning. It is a desire that grew within me and longed to be made manifest. Of course it is still an unended question. It is as new as the first sentence on a rough draft that is going nowhere -- just a tumble of thoughts longing to find shape and form.
The amount of energy I have wasted chasing the culturally perfect body angers me now. I'm furious that being a beautiful woman of a certain age isn't enough. That my grace isn't enough, my wisdom isn't enough. But it really is. My body is mine alone; it doesn't belong to the culture. Your body is yours and it is an amazing creation of spirit.