I worked out all by myself that I had way too many attachments, that my ego was too big, that I needed to develop more loving-kindness, that I had to find my Buddha nature, that my enemies had Buddha nature too, and that I needed to learn how to love them without compromise.

When we collaborate we enter into this experience together, to be open/effective/present/infective. A conversation is not about homogeneity or evenness or sameness. It demands acceptance or else it refuses to flow.

Yoga is not just exercise and meditation, it is an investment – you invest in yourself and get good health in return.

Every problem carries within itself its own solution.

Develop a belief that everything in your life is happening in perfect timing.

When I stopped and listened to the sound of utter silence instead of fearing the loss of my comfort zone, a conversation began.

I feel as though I’m being held captive by my own skin, bones, muscle and tissue.

This was how the Blue Bills project was launched -- a movement that invites us to be honest with what money symbolizes or represents and its value. Blue Bills are regular US currency tinged blue and stamped “Based on the value of a clean world”. After all, the only value money has is what we believe it carries.

Avoid telling people what to be, but never stop asking into who they are...

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

I saw a couple once sleep in this way: They both lay there; just laying there, no warmth, just cold running through the middle of the bed. It was a strange experience; it was like seeing something you shouldn’t have seen, but being drawn to it anyway. I can still smell the cold crisp air which escaped into the room from the AC socket I had removed to keep the chill out.

But there are no permanent residents at The Grand Hotel though a picture bridge stands in memory of some of our favorite guests

Adopting an attitude of mindfulness requires effort. We are continually programmed in many societies to reject the possibility that satisfaction can occur moment by moment. We are taught to want more, strive for more, dream bigger, and push forward toward our goals...

Somebody failed you but you will not fail. Somebody looked in your eyes and saw the sun - blazing - and got scared. Somebody broke your heart but your love remains perfect. Somebody lost their dreams and thought you should too, but you mustn’t.

We, allergy-free peeps, do run the risk of eating a really bland all-brown-rice-all-the-time-diet, so here are my tips on making the allergy free diet actually taste good:

Do you remember the story of the jar of life?

But how can we find ourselves if we are not there, if we are just playing out a role and popping pills erasing who we once were? It cannot be done. It cannot be done and so we pretend some more and then we seize to think.

trees, slender bare bodies all resilience and braveness

And for a moment, my denial, arrogance and ego all slink away, and I can hear the unblemished reality of my blindness, tolling with the mournful clarity of an ancient bell, and I’m even more afraid of losing who I am.

Just between us Rebelles, nobody completes anybody. Love is rarely perfect. Only we perfectly imperfect human beings make it so...so perfect!

It is normal human nature to express what we feel, and to a large extent, of course it is good for us. It helps us stick together and support each other, as the human community that we are... but fully connecting with feeling takes everything you have got. It takes your whole heart. It is why every religion worth its salt emphasizes silence and contemplation.

Thanks to the shadows of my past, I have learned that life is really as dark or as light as we want to make it. We can allow our setbacks to define us, or we can define our setbacks. If you spend your whole life looking through your rear-view mirror, you’ll miss all of the beauty that resides right out your front window.

I will stay and use my pain to do good, to make things that have never been made before and twist my words until they become extraordinary, standing like awesome pieces of shit that refuse to be forgotten no matter how much the world changes.

Ultimately, Love leads a timeless existence. Love is not measured in minutes or hours, not days or weeks, but in beats, breaths, notes, and shared melodies.

I didn’t know how the years ahead would play out. That the Gulf war was just a preamble. That my friend’s five-year-old would commit suicide before his twenty-second birthday. That I wouldn’t study music or social work; instead, I would begin to write. I didn’t know the pervasive sadness - the black well of depression - that would swallow me during that coming decade. I thought I knew where I was headed. I thought the road before me was clear - unencumbered. I was wrong.

Many of us who are trying to make a living through a form of personal and creative expression, will likely experience difficult financial times at some point in our lives. Wading through these trying periods is part of the creative maturation process; it helps us define who we are and what we are willing to live and fight for.

And the feathers pool in footprints behind you.

Remember: exercise is simply your body in motion. If you enjoyed monkey bars as a kid, who is to stop you from enjoying monkey bars as an adult? Go for it!

...if we are completely clueless about our desire, then this sutra means just taking one step, period...in any direction. Knowing what we don't want has a habit of very quickly taking us into feeling what it is that we do want -- stepping into a pile of poo is not always a bad thing, so to speak!

You can’t control dance. It’s an act of self-expression – and what that means is that by dancing you’re taking a giant shovel and digging into your guts to see what you are made of.

Do not give into believing the lies that love is always romantic, orgasms are always easy, and that problems are solved at the end of a twenty-two minute segment after an orange juice commercial. This is real life.

Mountain man, charged with resisting arrest for fishing to feed himself, responds with civil disobedience...This is what a freedom fighter looks like in a military-industrial complex disguised as a democracy.

By Srividya Sivakumar. You have been hiding from me a long time.Perhaps in the pages of the book I left unfinished.Perhaps in the unplayed song on my guitar.Maybe you were wrapped in the words I like,like whimsical and love.Maybe you were in the sorrow that cuts me to the quick,and leaves me new and clear and hopeful.Maybe you are the L in love.Perhaps you have been lurking behind bookends.Or maybe you have been asleep in the sentencesof my favorite piece of writing.Were you in the straps of my favorite bag?Or in the ink of my pen?Or the pages of my Moleskine diary?Could it be that you are the gleam in the ring I wear,or the lead in the pencil I write with?Perhaps you are the O in hope.You have been hiding in the sense of accomplishmentthat I have felt of late.Or in the rim of my cup of coffee,once I am done with it.The foil that wraps my favorite bar of chocolatecarries...

You are my idee fixe, My barometer, My North, South, East and West.

One of the hardest things dealing with both epilepsy and my spine is accepting and understanding that both these ‘conditions’ are not going to ‘totally heal’, whatever that means.

If I was to give modern western culture a name, it would be More. Are you not entertained?

  By Barry John Johnson. It is a beautiful day. I am sitting in the park on a beach towel reading a book about how to be a writer. I am reading a section discussing how to select what to write about. The author is recommending to write about the mundane, the trivial, then break it down to try to find greater meaning in it. Just then, I hear a sneeze. I can somehow tell that it is a kid’s sneeze, for sure. What struck me as unusual was that the sneeze featured an extended ending. There was an extra fluttering of the lips and commensurate noise, as if intentional, but obviously organic. The overall sneeze lasted longer than what might be expected with the greater noise of this fluttering lip effect. I don’t know if this was a one-time deal for this kid or if this is how he sneezes all of the time. It’s just that it was clearly distinct, out of the ordinary. I...

I know you, and your darkness and your shadow and all the things for which you practice self-flagellation. And I still see you as good, and true and strong and powerful and exquisitely present in this world.

It is not about quick fixes – it is about stability and incrementally getting better. This requires patience and tolerance with ourselves. We are powerless to change that which we will not accept. Self-acceptance is the key to self-control.

Have you ever noticed that weight loss is always described in military terms or as something to win? Common metaphors shape the way we perceive the world. By using these terms, we imply that weight loss is a struggle, one that requires you fight your own body to win.

Sing me a song - of days without end - and when i awake - paint the sky once again.

Lost in the tone, melodic dance chasing my soul... Following me with enchantment and smile...

Such a face! Such features that she had in her youth believed all must envy her, must sit in awe of her lover, her husband and look upon their own lovers and husbands as second best!

It is difficult for me to put an end to these conversations because I tell myself that I should be able to suck it up and handle them. How am I ever going to succeed in my life if I cannot hear other people's opinions and graciously accept feedback?

On the edge of the concrete, Struggling in limbo for a last flight. Peaceful anguish flutters in big black eyes.

My inner crazy feels uncomfortable with the boredom of small talk and commonplace things – I want to know what makes your heart come alive – I want to know what drives your desires and makes your soul sing – I want to lie under the stars and imagine other worlds – I can’t understand when you tell me how much you earn or what you want to buy but I want to listen when you tell me what you want from life and what you want to see and how much you want to give of your crazy self to the world. I can relate to your delicious insanity and your craving to get naked and shout obscenities as you run into the ocean, under the moon.

I am a fortress, expertly crafted and protected, yet open to a whole world of experience and people. I am embodied by a flexible, translucent, permeable membrane that allows me to ebb and flow along with my desires.

It is time for you to start writing a new story with the knowledge and skills you have now. There is nothing more gratifying than growing from our mistakes.

The road trip was an education in returning to some place they told me I couldn’t: my youth.

Gratitude is a choice. But when you’re angry, broken-hearted, grieving, or feel like everything turned out wrong, it can be very difficult to choose gratitude. So what can we do when we aren't feeling especially grateful? Use compassion as a bridge to feel gratitude.

here’s a little secret of mine: I throw apples on her window

The conqueror’s journey does not begin with power being given away for free. The conquistador must go to the depths of the endless end. The hero must vanquish an incorrigible beast and return with its head as memento of undeniable courage. Only then can he return to the world and fully appreciate the fruits of his labor. A journey woman must die a death that will be a story that lives on for ages. A story of dragons and princesses, of lovers and liars, war, peace and change. The warrior steps into the darkness on a leap of faith and accepts what some never see, what most could never mention, much less be heard, as she acquiesces to the unfathomable enormity of her journey. She allows the void to swallow her whole and spit her out on the other side of a reality she never knew existed. Then and only then, does her inner power return with a blazing aura of transcendent...

I found that rest is not only a weapon against exhaustion. It’s a weapon against sickness. It’s a weapon that helps me heal.

"This is your place of creative incubation. At first, you may find that nothing happens there. But if you have a sacred place, and use it, take advantage of it, something will happen."

Think about it. Really think about it. Why are things the way they are? And, do they have to be that way? Are we perhaps the ones responsible for things getting worse instead of better, because of all the built in assumptions contained in our perceptual baggage?

Abandonment and rejection were patterned into my system, even in the presence of other fun-loving characteristics. The vibration of unlovableness was absorbed by me, and with more tears, I continued to release this ancestral pain from both sides of my family.

She obsessed over her soft spots and jiggle. He loved her jiggle, her softness, her warmth.

How is the quality of your life experience affected by your storyline? (How is your breath, your nervous system and your lens affected by your storyline?) How is the life around you affected by your storyline?

She will not let me forget, Fragile and pale though she is now, How it felt to soar, and fall with grace...

What am I supposed to say to you [and you, and you, and you] when you ask me if I have change to spare?