Small Change, Big Hearts. Three Yogis Return to Haiti.

Most yogis are gnawed by nature to explore. We feel compelled to take steps, even leaps, into the unknown, just to see what we’re made of. We flip upside down, methodically, with fully focused breath, attempting to tangle and untangle our legs, spines, guts, not knowing where we’ll land, just steeped with desire to discover something new.

We’re a compassionate bunch too. Especially the two women I went to Haiti with this year. They’re equal parts kindness and sincerity coupled with knowledge and strength. They will listen intently to your stories, understand your plights, and use every emotional tool in their arsenal to support you through highs and lows. They are the essence of humanity, they wish only for good, and you feel that deep within your bones. They make me better.

Veronica Rottman, Diana Oppenheim and I continued the effort we started last year: teaching Yoga to oncology patients and staff at Partners in Health in Mirebalais (Cange, last year), Haiti. This year, we expanded that project. All three of us spent the better part of a year teaching fundraising classes and workshops, hosting events, and spreading awareness about Yogis Can Help, our philanthropic effort to spread Yoga to those underserved. Haiti is our passion project, after a successful and rewarding first trip, we were all extremely jazzed to return and build upon the foundation we laid down.

There were nerves in planning the trip back. We had no Jessie Stoop this year, our angel oncology nurse who was pivotal in making our first trip happen, let alone making it joyous, informative and exceedingly fun. No Jesse. No Cange. No clue what to expect, just like the first year. We knew we had to strap in and adapt, be ready for anything. The beauty of most travel experiences arrives through the unpredictability, the surprises. We were in for it and couldn’t wait.

Veronica got busy learning Creole from an amazing student of hers, Paul Karner, a man who’d spent much of his childhood visiting Haiti, and has since established a nonprofit in Jacmel recording Haitian musicians. Not only did he teach Veronica how to teach Yoga in Creole, he connected us with his friend, Alland, arranged for safe transport from Port au Prince to Jacmel and back, paid a local Haitian woman, Dede, in Jacmel to cook for us, ensured we had a Haitian phone and stayed in constant communication with us throughout our trip. He is, and was, a godsend.

From the Jacmel Music School

For some reason Diana and I each decided to leave Chicago (for men, of course, and we only sort of regret it), so in the midst of transition, we stayed organized with each other, Veronica communicating with our beloved social worker, Oldine, along with the elegant and lovely, Lazenya, to nail down the logistics of our return trip. As V and I finished up a few fundraisers at our home studios, Diana worked tirelessly on a stellar teacher training manual for the few Haitian locals we’d be leading this time around.

We learned our mat and equipment donations were nowhere to be found this year so we collected what we could, packed our bags, gathered a slew of snack foods and embarked on our second trip to the Caribbean. V couldn’t wait to be warm again. We all couldn’t wait to be together, to share what we love with such deserving people, and to do what we love together. It is a gift to collaborate with such intelligent and thoughtful people. I cannot imagine a better learning and loving experience than that.

Veronica and I arrived first. It felt nice to commemorate our first trip together by teaching our patients (some who’d returned from the previous year) again. We both felt even more at ease this time around, something about the familiarity of Haiti, these kind and resilient people made us feel right at home. And again, they were so grateful and receptive to Yoga. They breathed like they were taking in nectar, transitioned from pose to pose with presence and a keen sense of humor. Five minutes in and we were reminded exactly why we could not wait to come back.

Diana joined us later that evening for our first staff class. It’s an incredible juxtaposition teaching patients in Creole and staff in English. The energy is vastly different but the thread-lines are the same. The personnel in Marebalais work so hard, often without breaks, and despite them being in the medical and health profession, they spend so much energy taking care of others that they frequently forget about themselves. So to provide an opportunity where they can put themselves on the list, move their bodies in a way that feels soothing, invigorating, relaxing, and even playful, breathe in a way that’s therapeutic, and be responsible for nothing but their own bliss, was a tremendous gift to give.

From the first day on, patients and staff were game. And that felt so good, to help people feel better than they did before. The three of us collaborated really well, each of our personalities and skill-sets complimenting the other’s. It became increasingly more fun and natural to teach in Creole, so much so that switching back to English felt odd. What a massage for the brain and heart, sharing our passions with a new culture of people, in their environment and in their language. It was such a pure exchange. I felt nothing but love.

We were amped to discover we had 5 teacher trainees that we’d spend a few hours a day teaching between our patient and staff classes. The social work goddess that is Oldine was one of our shining students, amongst the sweet and young, Monise, the father and husband, Petie, friend and PiH staffer, Viarjella, and handsome Latin dancer, Sam. We discovered quickly the unique challenge of not only leading a condensed Yoga teacher training in one week to those who speak another language, but the all encompassing task of teaching them Yoga in general.

Words cannot express, they can only cheapen and minimize how rewarding that week was in the northern mountains of Haiti. Each class with the patients got progressively better, more fluid, more playful, more loving. Same can be said for the staff classes, which we ended epically, on a rooftop overlooking sunset, with three adorable kiddos added to our student mix. But somehow even that didn’t compare to the teacher training experience.

Each day we returned to our ward to find Petie reading over his manual and often practice teaching with Oldine. We were so pleasantly surprised how game they each were to get up and practice teach from even the first day. Oldine’s personality, her superb language skills, and her graceful body showcased her natural teaching talents. Sam had exquisite body awareness and a cheeky eye, even in Creole we could tell when he was being funny. What really uplifted us and brought out the proud momma tears were Monise and Petie.

Monise is young, 22 at most, tall, narrow, stylish, big white smile, stunning dark skin. She’s soft spoken, much of our encouragement involved owning her voice and natural talents, which improved exponentially as the days went on. Through our friends in the staff, Megan, Jonah, Jo and many others, we learned Monise’s life had been difficult to say the least. To have even this small opportunity to learn with us made Monise beam from ear to ear, head to toe, she was a beautiful bright light.

Toward the end of the week Monise assisted, on her own volition, our patient classes. With confidence and grace she lovingly placed her hands on their bodies and guided them into better alignment, supported them in deeper breaths. Hugging Monise goodbye was very difficult, I didn’t want that joy in her eyes to go away. All we can hope is Yoga has inspired her to find solace in everyday living, in helping others, in the simplicity of being.

Petie is a social worker in Mirebalais as well, in his 40’s, very strong, buff even, with puppy dog eyes and a very sincere smile. While in Haiti we learn to relax and go with Haitian time. That means if class starts at 10, don’t expect to truly start until 1030. Let people matriculate in as they can. It’s the perfect setting for Yoga where we attempt to embrace timelessness and dissolve into the moment. Petie somehow was very aware of time, showing up early for training each day, asking questions and reviewing what we’d already learned. Him and Monise were certainly most improved and we, as their teachers, are thrilled to hear how they progress in the future.

After a tearful goodbye to the beauties in Mirebalais, we then journeyed back down to Port au Prince to meet Alland for a ride to Jacmel. We’d visited Jacmel the year prior, although the experience was very sheltered, almost specifically designed for 1st world westerners to feel safe and comfortable. We were grateful for the experience, of course, and Jacmel is exquisitely beautiful, but we certainly didn’t experience the same “slice of life” normalcy as we did staying in and exploring Port au Prince and Cange.

This year was very nearly the opposite. We got the eye-opening, challenging life experience we didn’t even realize we needed as we stayed three days in home right smack in the middle of Jacmel. It was humbling. Heartbreaking. Difficult. We are not high maintenance women. It doesn’t take much to please us. We love camping, relish showering in bodies of natural water, and have no qualms about squatting to do our business. But this was more than that.

We were confronted with the true reality of how 92% of Haitians live, day in and day out, in dilapidated structures with no real protection from the elements. It is exceedingly hot, incredibly loud, and unclean to a worrisome level. What’s worse, the situation for an even bigger population of Haitians in Port au Prince is even more dire. Most are still stuck in tents, surrounded by garbage (a governmental issue), unclean water, and thousands upon thousands of people.

We felt uncomfortable but, more than that, we felt guilty as hell that this was merely a temporary experience for us, and a permanent circumstance for many others. We felt so helpless, so overwhelmed. We respected the Haitian people more than to pity them but we could not help but feel they deserved so much better. And it was within those complex emotions that we rediscovered the beauty of this amazing country.

Most are acutely aware of their endemic poverty, of their limited choices, and of their challenges inherent in being born in their country, but they waste little time on complaining. They get on with it, they hustle, they smile, they survive. Makes me disgusted by any complaints over first world problems. Never again.

During those three days we had the fortune of riding motorcycles through the busy streets of Jacmel, into and out of shallow streams, around winding mountain roads, and deep into the jungle to Basin Blu, where the giant rocks and streaming waterfalls awaited our playfulness. On our second trip back, we were guided intelligently by a few helpful locals, who held our hands as we traversed slippery rocks and climbed up and down the mountain side until we reached the water.

We jumped in with enthusiasm, swam like children, climbed and fell off of slippery rocks, and smiled until our cheeks almost went numb. After, we took a brisk 40 minute ride to Kabik, our favorite beach from the previous year. We stopped for some delicious seafood, rum cocktails and Haiti’s own Prestige, and enjoyed our treats in the sand, listening to waves crash just feet away. We lounged, walked, collected shells, bought straw hats, played with kiddos, stood on our hands, and talked endlessly with each other throughout that beautiful day.

V, D & Me

Haitian men. Kind. Handsome. Helpful.

We endured some very challenging experiences together that trip, many positive, a few negative. In the interest of privacy and keeping our hearts and conversations light, I’ll keep those negative experiences to ourselves. They simply reiterated my love and appreciation for yogis, especially the two I had by my side. We had each other’s backs, uplifted each others hearts, and helped care for each other’s bodies (in that sweet, homeopathic way only yogis know how to care).

We returned to Port au Prince to find Paul had set us up with one of the nicest hotels we’d seen in a long time, anywhere. It wasn’t particularly fancy or opulent, but simply so different than anything we’d experienced in Haiti before. We were nestled up in the hills, able to take our first real warm shower in 10 days, rest on a comfortable bed in a clean room, and surf the internet by the pool. I felt spoiled. In exploring the grounds I discovered that within feet of our luxurious stay were thousands of tents full of everyday people and everyday living. I couldn’t help but feel guilty, yet again.

This gave us time to pause and reflect on our trip. And that space gave us the clarity we’d only barely understood the first time around. Haiti doesn’t need our guilt, our sympathy, our pity, even simple handouts. They need a helping hand, human compassion, eye to eye contact and a voice that says with sincerity, “We can help you climb out of this.” They need upward mobility, options, a future. They need people who sincerely give a shit.

We don’t delude ourselves into thinking we’ve drastically changed the landscape of Haiti, nor can we ignore the onslaught of “privileged white people” taking trips to help the impoverished in a third world country. We went because we love people. Yoga has connected us deeper into being human beings and that only inspires us to connect with more beings, especially those vastly different than us.

We know we get even more out of our trips to Haiti than we aim to give but we try our damn best. We give our hearts, our energy, our skills, our dollars and donations combined with the support from many other kind-hearted souls who believe in our cause, and we try to leave a positive impact on the people we encounter. And I believe we have.

Couldn’t imagine two better people to experience this with, we have a good time;)

I’ll never forget the hugs, the smiles, the tears, the smells, the sunsets, the lessons, and most importantly, the love. This experience, just like Haiti, is a gift. We cannot wait to return. And I cannot wait to share more with these beautiful women whom I’m honored to call fellow yogis. They’ve helped me fall deeper in love with others and with the gift of being alive. Thank you, Veronica and Diana. Thank you, students and supporters. Thank you, patients and staff in Mirebalais. Thank you, Paul, Alland and Jacmel. Thank you, Haiti ❤

Making Shit Happen

I am at one breath thrilled beyond belief, and on other, terrified and crawling in my skin. That’s how it feels when you start making shit happen, the fear wants to take over, sending you back inside your shell, to play it safe and keep mediocrity stirring.

Fuck mediocrity. I’ve talked myself out of so many things, it’s about time I get behind myself and keep propelling my dreams forward. There will be missteps, failures, mistakes, tons of unknown, but that’s all part of the fun, part of coming alive.

And boy am I alive! I can’t recall a time where I’ve felt so fueled with inspiration, so invigorated with passion for my job, and so nervous at the thought of it all coming together. That’s the point of this roller-coaster called Life, shit will excite you and scare you at the same time. The challenge is sticking with it, following the excitement, and giving fear the middle finger.

In many ways my triumphs these past couple months seem small. For instance, I started a YouTube page, where I speak and everything! Yowzah! Truth be told since I was quite young I’ve wanted to host my own TV show. When I was 14 I held the podium in English class for a weekly installment of Dialogue with Danielle where we discussed all things interesting and current. I loved it.

But somewhere along puberty, more self doubt crept in. I began to hate my flaws so much I could no longer see my light. I simply saw nothing. Frozen by a deep desire to stand out, I made myself sick out of fear, fear of my own ridicule, fear of failure, fear of success, who knows? All I felt and responded to was fear. What a waste of energy and life.

I feel those voices creeping back in on my challenging and lonely days. I admittedly miss my friends. Deeply. Often my most anxious moments run right along side the loneliest. It’s amazing what hugs and laughing with another can do for you. I now know how pivotal that is to my happiness. Expect more hugs, yogis! Haha. I’ve met some truly spectacular people here in LA, but time and traffic hasn’t quite allowed me to build real relationships just yet. I’m staying optimistic and working on my patience.

When I left Chicago my students asked me repeatedly to create videos, to share my teachings over the interweb so that we may continue to benefit from each other. When I returned from Bali, transformed and renewed, I decided it was time to suck it up and share all of me. For better of worse, frizzy hair and crooked mouth, pimples on my face and dimples on my thighs, it didn’t matter. I was alive. I knew I had something positive to share and I finally recognized that I was actually a fantastic Yoga teacher, something I still find difficult to admit out loud.

So I created the YouTube page and started sharing. And the response has been so positive and loving, I hope to only grow and get better as time goes on.

Here’s a video about me getting tired of being a jerk to myself. I didn’t expect to cry but shit happens. It was scary as hell to feel so vulnerable and admit what I felt were unfortunate weaknesses, but my hope is it resonates and maybe helps you try something you’ve always wanted to try, or decide to love yourself instead of picking yourself apart.

I was drawn to Yoga because I secretly wish I could be a professional dancer. Creating Flow sequences taps into that choreographer in me. Below are a couple videos showcasing that passion.

And just for shits and grins, here’s a couple instructional Yoga videos talking you through a fun arm balance, hip and heart openers, and some Restorative love. Subscribe to the page, Like, Share, all that jazz. Apparently it helps, and I could use it! Thanks:)

Before I moved out to California I set the intention to teach Yoga and Hiking. I wasn’t sure how that would come to fruition but after teaching and writing all over the city, the opportunity to teach for Hiking Yoga itself fell into my lap. I’ve loved every second of it, it fills me with such joy that I can’t stop smiling. Two hours straight and my face feels like it’s going to fall off. But it’s worth it. And I have Yoga, so I’ll just apply a little Restorative to my face.

Some Joy from our hike at the Griffith Observatory!

I’m organizing private hikes on my own, just $5 a person, on weekends and during sunsets. Follow me at danieatslife on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, and all that silliness, and email me danieatslife@gmail.com if you want to join. It is seriously fun overload!

My long term goal/intention/dream for my future is to teach and travel. I’ve been fortunate to do this in a small capacity already; studying and living in NYC for my first training, Bali for my second; Our Yogis Can Help trip to Haiti in January, our 2nd is on the anniversary of our first trip, January 20th, 2014; fusing Yoga with travel in visits to Boston, Florida, California, Ohio (yes, even Ohio, gotta love CBus!), Alabama, Michigan, New York, small and large cities all over this beautiful country!

Sidenote: I just had a moment while typing that out, a slap in the face to the very apparent abundance and dream that has already arrived. Why am I being such an ungrateful asshole? I’ve already experienced more than most human beings on this planet will never feel. I am so fucking beyond blessed and blissed and lucky. I’ve always known this, but some pervasive dissatisfaction with myself kept berating me that I wasn’t doing enough, achieving enough, earning enough. No more.

So my big goal is to truly combine teaching with travel, continue Karma Yoga projects like our current passion in Haiti, celebrate Yoga and life with others leading a retreat around the country or world. I’m starting small and dreaming big. Plus, I love small. My favorite studios are the cozy, intimate spaces, where I can really get to know my students, not only in their practice but in their lives. No matter how big the space or how many students I teach, I’m in the studio at least 15 minutes prior and I will stay as long after class as needed to enjoy conversations with enthusiastic human beings (and dogs!).

I am beyond excited for a retreat I will be co-teaching with my beautiful fellow teacher and friend, Amanda Nora, over the Spring Equinox, March 22nd to the 25th! We’ll be practicing, eating and exploring Sycamore Wellness Springs in San Luis Obispo, California! SLO is one of the most beautiful and healthy places on the planet, it will be an ideal location to restore our old winter’s bones and renew our bodies, passions and intentions for Spring. I cannot fricken wait! More info found on my website here.

Before March, I’ll be in Jacksonville, Florida teaching two workshops at Bliss Yoga & Wellness. Friday evening, December 6th, 7-9, and Saturday afternoon, December 7th, 1-330, Restorative & Yoga Nidra, followed by Happy Back & Hips.

I’ll be in Chicago before I head out to Haiti in January. I’ll be teaching Saturday evening, 6-8 on the 18th at Namaskar Yoga, and Sunday afternoon, 2-4 on the 19th at the Yoga Boutique. Saturday evening will be a tribal Vin Yin with live djembe. We’ll flow and restore, then sink deep into yogic sleep with Yoga Nidra meditation. And on Sunday we’ll play! Arm balances and inversions to keep the joy for our practice and intentions alive. So excited!

If you’re reading this, let’s have a conversation! Digitally or in person. Come to class or just ask away to danieatslife@gmail.com

Who Decompresses in Bangkok?! Me, Apparently.

Warning: This article contains discussion of sex, THC, and truth. Reader discretion is advised.

I left Bali in tears, unsure how to transition back to real life, so I chose to decompress in one of the busiest, noisiest, smelliest places on the planet: Bangkok! And as I sit reflecting upon my experience, I’m so glad I chose the path I did, allowing it to unfold naturally, without much plan or thought. Bangkok was so opposite to Bali, such a clusterfuck of senses and awesome, overwhelming and drastically different from anything I’d ever experienced. It helped me cope from missing Chicago, family, friends, leaving Bali, and helped me decipher just how I’d like to transition back into Los Angeles, my new home. LA seems like a breeze, closer to the feel of Bali than Bangkok, but still its own weird animal. Bangkok helped me settle into reality again. Here’s how it went…

I arrived in Bangkok late Saturday night, took a silent, long cab ride to my hostel, stared in awe out the window as the huge cityscape passed me by. I walked down tiny alley roads to eventually find Chilli hostel, a clean, cozy space to myself with a bathroom for $11. I was stoked to just sleep. I woke up around 6 the next morning, walked about a mile or so to the MRT at Hualong Pham and rode nearly the entire length of the train to Chatuchuk weekend market where I perused the hundreds of vendors, walked and sat in Chatuchak park, ate at a few different streetcars inside the market, including a yummy strawberry-kiwi-mango smoothie for roughly 75 cents, and lunch for $2.

I then rode the MRT back to Chilli, shockingly didn’t get lost, called Tu, the man a fellow traveler in Bali connected me with, had him explain where he was to the employee at Chilli, who then kindly walked me to a bright pink taxi cab, explained where to take me and we were off.

This cabbie was loud and chatty. I almost preferred the silence. He was obsessed with money, how much things cost in America versus here, convinced always it was more here. Not possible, certainly not the food. He concluded Bill Clinton was our best president, I couldn’t really argue with that. He spoke with Tu like four times and we finally made it. Tu greeted us and he walked me down a few narrow paths to his little sanctuary. There’s a carved wooden gate welcoming you to Tu’s place. We remove our shoes and then walk into this dark wood structure. The living room has two distinct open spaces, connected via a walkway; to the right, dozens of guitars, drums and sitars; to the left, four meditation cushions, a board with each tenant’s name, a small fridge with water and beverages, coffee and tea and some photographs. Walking through there are private bedrooms, simply donned with red and gold window and wall treatments, a soft mattress with a very distinctly Thai bed sheet and pillow on top, mosquito net surrounding. There’s a small mirror, low table, plug and a light. Underneath the stairs lies one of two bathrooms, equipped with a toilet and our shower system: a large caldron of water resembling that of a large vase, with a bowl to fetch water and pour it over your dirty body. Easy as pie.

If you walk through to the back you’ll find an open area with a couple small sewing machine desks (I was excited because I have a similar one in my home), some chairs, a hammock (yes!), and tons of plants. I sit with Tu for 20-30 minutes downstairs as he enthusiastically and rapidly discusses his biannual trips to India where he studies yoga and energy healing. He’s so joyous, so vibrant, so energetic. He speaks of health and the importance of keeping your mind and body sharp, your energy channels open. He apologizes for talking so much, but of course I didn’t mind a bit. During our conversation he put his body into various yoga postures, extreme seated poses and balances, ones that even eluded me. None of it was bragging or bullshit, I’ve yet to meet anyone in the States this authentic, this happy from the inside out. I was so grateful I happened to meet Frannie at Seniman in Bali, otherwise I would’ve never known about him or this serene place. He took me to the rooms upstairs, charming, quiet, warm. He said I have to sit and feel them out, see what spaces feel best to me. We stopped in one and were again talking about energy blocks, yoga, personal growth. He noted the tension around my throat, very common amongst westerners as we’re very much in our heads and not outwardly expressing our truth on a constant basis.

I know how much I’ve evolved since finding yoga but I also recognize the miles I have to climb. I could tell just listening to him, absorbing his presence would catapult my growth, adding to Bali’s already huge influence. He showed me parts of my hands and feet that connected to my kidneys and other vital organs, noted that I’d exhausted my adrenals and my body needed rest and therapy. Somehow a simple massage in my hands led to the most interesting and healing energy and body work I’d ever had. He began cleverly leveraging his own body weight (the man weighs at least 15 pounds less than me) to bend, stretch, fold, massage and sometimes crack my body in ways I’ve never, ever been touched before. I was all over, twisted, mangled, extended, every which way to sundown. I closed my eyes, breathed, rag-dolled my body and simply trusted him.

Somehow, over two hours passed. He finished and left me quiet in a svasana like posture for however long until I came to. I rose in a fog, feeling so centered, so calm, so clear, so limber. I thought I was open, wow, clearly I wasn’t. I saw him and thanked him. He thanked me for trusting him, said I was very healthy and balanced for a woman of my age and background but there was a small section behind my heart, as well as an area around my throat that he was focused on opening. He said that I was simply protecting myself and I just need to keep letting go and working on it. Done. He’s supposed to do some oil work on me as well to help before I go. All this amazingness and I’m paying less than $7 a night to sleep there.

Later, I walked around my area of town, passing some fairly impressive temples, walked through a park equipped with fountains, gorgeous trees, elephant sculptures and an outdoor gym. I walked back and found a spot to eat, what was essentially a street car with outdoor seating. I had green beef salad and a Chang, the Thai local beer. I had two beers. I was drunk, happy and full when returning to Tu’s. I walked through the house to the back where I smelled marijuana, oh how I’d missed that scent. Three men were sitting and greeted me with a smile. They offered me a seat and a smoke. Why fucking not? One was from England, one from Ireland, one from the Netherlands. They had met in India just a few weeks before and decided to keep traveling together. They were playing Tu’s instruments, passing a joint, laughing about their stories. We stayed there for a couple hours and then opted for an adventure into Bangkok.

Somehow the streets were even more alive around 1030 at night than any other time that day. A huge market was set up, we were able to circumvent it to get to food, which we sampled from a few vendors. On the way back we walked through the market, a seemingly endless, overwhelming place packed toe to toe with people. I wanted out. I wanted bed. It took what felt like years to get through, we wound back around and down the alley back to Tu’s. I feel asleep that night without even brushing my teeth. I crashed and awoke in the same position around 8 Monday morning, the whole day ahead and no plan in sight. I slowly got ready, in no hurry. I felt like I wanted home badly that day, I missed my love, my dogs, my bed, my shower. I loved being at Tu’s and had so much fun the day before but something in me was ready to be home.

I walked in a direction I’d yet to travel in my area and found a place serving eggs. It seemed most common for the Thai to eat street car food in the morning, fried meat of all varieties, fried mystery balls. I needed something familiar. I had eggs, ham and this yummy toast with an iced latte, very different than the iced lattes at home, so sweet and delicious. It was really satisfying. And cheap! From there I walked to Loha Prasat, where I was somehow able to explore the temple all by myself, up the narrow winding stairs through each level, Buddhist scripture along the walls, reminding me of my work to overcome, my lasting flaws. Those who succumb to lust are weak. Fuck. An enlightened one transcends sexual desires. Fuck. This is really the major distraction holding me back.

A piece of Buddhist scripture that rings so true.

I feel fairly joyous, loving, happy, grateful and present most days. I’ve grown so much in this decade, seen myself through some heavy doubts and disbelief, yoga helping me transcend many personal issues and see clearly where I need to grow from there. But sex, that’s a big one. I was humping couches at 4 years old, masturbating to fruition before I even knew what it was. I love sex, thinking about it, fantasizing, writing, studying, and obviously, doing it. It’s been a big factor in my life as of late because my body clearly wants baby, I’m breathing and receiving lust everywhere I turn. In Tantra, we’re encouraged to explore this very primal side of ourselves, and in yoga we understand that what we resist persists, suppressing our desires only proves damaging. So Buddhism clearly isn’t an option for me. As much a I respect the enlightened one, life is just too much fun to ignore or even move past sexual urges. I love those urges, I love feeling sensual and connecting via the sexual conduit. Similar to Jesus and other prophets, I’ll take the pieces from Buddha that make sense to me, continue on my unique path with kindness and love, and I’ll choose to leave the rest.

I left feeling slightly guilty and inadequate to my next destination, the Golden Mount! It’s been interesting, I’ve sort of carried out my vow of silence I had during Kriya week in Bali. Most Thai speak maybe a couple words of English, which is no bother to me but it just means I’m quiet most of the time, continuing the theme of introspection. So I meandered up and around the large circular steps, passing iron bells, gongs, monks, forests, statues and all sorts of beauty. The Thai like their bling, there were Buddhas surrounded by smaller Buddhas and a blinding array of gems, jewels and gold. It was astounding. I walked down and around to another temple at the base, one with possibly the largest Buddha I’ve ever encountered, rising over 30 feet high, indoors, surrounded by more bling! More of the same around the ornate and detailed facade. Again, the discipline and faith humbles me, baffles me, I can hardly make sense of it. But I certainly appreciate it, the dedication and artistry.

I sauntered back through the streets of old Bangkok until I reached this backpackers haven, searching for a small cafe that came highly recommended on Kaosan road: Moka. To my utter disappointment and dismay, Moka was closed, so I sat at a random place for some Thai fried rice and beer, another gigantic beer I barely finished. I walked through some narrow curving streets all advertising silver on my return to Tu’s. I went inside and plopped down on my floor bed to absorb my day. Later, I walked out of my quiet sanctuary and back into noisy Bangkok for some kale and crispy pork. All my healthy fruit and veggie habits had gone out the window, and my stomach was paying for it. Usually I have an iron digestive system, but you can’t feed yourself whole foods, no alcohol, limited bread for 22 days and then reward yourself with fried stuff, mystery meat and beer. No body would enjoy professing that. It’s delicious but not smart for my health.

I had tons of energy and didn’t fall asleep until after 1, rising just before 9 am on Tuesday. I walked back to the shop from the previous day for more eggs, sugary toast and iced lattes, clearly back on the health band wagon. I decided to walk to the Grand Palace, stopping to sign up for a night bike tour that evening. The packed roads wound around to a large open grassy space where I walked until I landed at the palace entrance. I could see some familiar sites, lovely colorful temples, those unique Thai roofs we’re all accustomed to seeing, some Buddhas, etc. I foolishly forgot to cover my shoulders so I paid a deposit to rent the most attractive, sherbet colored shirt I could find, paid my foreigners fee and walked into the palace. All I can say is it was overwhelming. There were tons of tourists, so much to visually take in, so much detail. I removed my shoes and walked into the main palace housing the emerald Buddha, no photos were allowed. I stood and stared, mouth agape at more bling, red and gold tall ceilings, exquisite paintings of surrounding Thailand on the walls, and then a big blinged out shrine leading to the top, roughly 25 feet high, where the beautiful green wise one sat.

I just stared at him, trying to invoke his powers through osmosis. It didn’t work but I did feel quite serene being there, very inspired and amazed. I took a convoluted way back, not even sure how I made it out. I just gazed at these old artifacts, metal sculpted tokens and pieces of comfort. Holding them comforted me, I spent a few cents and bought some, a piece of Thailand to comfort me wherever I go.

I then walked to Moka, where I sat writing for hours. Moka is a charming, tiny little shop with very colorful and distinctive art work. French instrumental music plays classics like Moon River and As Time Goes By, making me feel strangely nostalgic for Italy, Europe, NYC, Chicago and home. I devoured what was literally the most delicious waffle with fresh fruit I’d ever had, along with some green matcha tea. I then had more matcha and a veggie sandwich, also delicious, felt comforting and familiar. I chatted up a sweet Austrian girl and then went back to Tu’s to rest before my bike ride.

I’ve been yearning for friends here. It’s great to travel alone, see how resourceful and capable you are, see how little it takes to make you feel comfortable and safe, but I love to share. I love to bounce life off another, so I was craving that connection, staring strangers deeply in the eyes to gauge any interest. Most were not biting, they already had friends or their own agendas. Oh well, on the bike tour perhaps. Ask the universe and you shall receive. I was the first to arrive for our night ride adventure in bangkok. Naturally, I have a relentlessly uncool need to be early. My on time is early. My late is on time. Oh well. I chatted up our guide, Piu, a young, skinny man with a wide smile and kind eyes. He spoke remarkably good English, better than any Thai I’d met thus far. I was pumped.

Then, two adorable people walked in, young, bright eyed, friendly. We said hello and from their accents I gathered they were Americans. I asked where they were from and they answered, Los Angeles. Me too! I explained with almost too much urgency and joy. They were each MBA students at UCLA. They had an earnestness to their characters, so honest, so eager, truly kind. You can never assume you know someone, especially a brand new stranger, but sometimes I feel I can perceive naughtiness, something intriguing or cheeky behind the eyes. This is precisely the quality I need in a man, at least to be sexually attracted, I need to detect a raw, primal weirdness. And with some, you detect a genuine soul, a character with integrity. Serena and Hai each had that. Perhaps they are naughty with each other. In fact, I hope they are, not that it mattered for our purposes, but mainly I felt that sincere warmth, a goodness and intelligence, what more could a lonesome stranger ask for? A few minutes after our departure time a middle aged American man and an adorable Thai woman arrived on motorcycle taxi, each a bit frazzled and feeling a little guilt over their tardiness. No matter, we strapped on our helmets and were off.

We explored the back alleys surrounding Kaosan road, Bangkok’s famous backpacking Mecca, where all walks of life join in cheap hostels, food, drinks, massage and sex, not necessarily in that order. Weaving around dozens of stray dogs and cats, scooters, street food vendors and pot holes, we navigated onto some major streets, feeling that awkward adjustment in riding on the left side of the street. Those right hand turns are a bitch. We drove through the university, watching students commingle, practice for performances, laugh, study. We reached the river and practiced our skills at making tight, narrow turns, barely missing passersby. We reached the fairy and rode quickly across Chao Phraya, leaving on bike to our first temple, one of the first established in bangkok after Ayuthaya burned to the ground in the Thai war with Burma.

Piu was informative and enthusiastic, sharing an authentic knowledge and love for his country. He kept making parallels with America. We’re roughly the same age as nations, each staking claim on freedom and democracy. Thailand itself means free land. The slight difference is Thailand is still very much a monarchy, with the king and queen highly coveted, protected by the government with a fervent sensitivity. The film the King and I is still banned in Thailand, there shan’t be any criticism of any king, regardless if the spin is honest or even positive. So I found myself asking, inside my head of course, how free are you if your citizens are shielded from pieces of art due to what the government deems as disrespectful material? And how does this bleed into the rest of existence? There is a systematic issue with education in Thailand and so long as you control what your people can absorb, perhaps this will continue. Not my business, just an interesting observation.

We rode some more, seeing parts of Bangkok I’d never reach without guidance and two wheels. Just riding was wonderful, I’d missed my commute in Chicago, always on bike, so this gave me a great fix. We stopped by more Buddhist temples, Muslim mosques, Catholic Churches, Hindu sculptures, our guide pointing out, with pride, how the Thai people only care if you’re Thai, beliefs don’t matter, everyone gets along. To be fair, 96% of Thai are Buddhist, with some Hindu influences (mainly political), 3% are Muslim, 1% are Catholic, thanks to the Portuguese.  We rode across a bridge back over the river to the bustling flower market. Open 24 hours a day, the best time to visit is at night, as that’s when all the fresh deliveries come in. The smell is divine, by far the best Bangkok could ever smell. It’s divided in two sections, one side of the street belonging to spiritual based purchases (lotuses, flowers used in making offerings) and personal (orchids, roses, tulips, all insanely cheap and vibrantly colored).

Piu bought us all beverages and snacks, random pieces of delicious pork, spicy meatballs, and possibly my favorite treat in all of Thailand, green mangos with salt, sugar, chili and Thai spices. Amazing! We left for our last stop, Wat Pho, the temple with the 46 meter long gold reclining Buddha, the first ever Thai massage school, all teachings etched in marble, yoga sculptures and exquisitely detailed architecture lit with the full moon. It was an informative and joyful experience, so glad I did it.

Piu!

Attempting to pay homage to the Yogi dancer sculpture in the background.

School of Thai Massage, amazing!

That night I returned late from my bike ride to find Tu and a visiting friend, also from Thailand, smoking a joint. This pleased me to no end, that this very enlightened, 50 year old wealth of knowledge and insight enjoyed some green. He said after a long day (which for him consists of at least two hours of yoga and five hours practicing music, on top of which he runs his little business, takes excellent care of himself, those staying in his home, and his plants) he likes to just relax and have a smoke. Me too! We talked about how much healthier and more creatively stimulating marijuana is compared to the ever popular alcohol, how it helps calm the body and release the mind, sending us into a deep, quality sleep.

He showed me some amazing yoga therapy skills I can do myself, and that I can pass to my students. We did some mudra work, he marveled at how open my hips are, which made me feel good considering the work I need to do around my heart, and he then administered some oils that I breathed in while receiving more Thai massage and energy work. It was tougher this time around but still immensely therapeutic. I went to bed at nearly 2 am and rose at 530 for my tour to Ayuthaya, the former capital of Thailand, to explore its ancient ruins and temples.

I was sluggish and near cranky that whole day. I usually don’t dig group tours, there’s so much you’re obligated to, so little freedom. That is something I’ve realized over my years of travel, I despise planning every second and I prefer tours that provide transport and any necessary tickets or tools but that’s it. Having merely napped the night before made the rainy ride to Ayuthaya particularly irritating. Luckily, I met an Aussie woman named Amanda and we got on like a house in fire. She’d just returned from an island where she did an intense food cleanse along with yoga and meditation. This was her first foray into yoga and she was such an impassioned believer. I love to geek out over yoga, with any and everyone, so both of our energies were lifted until we arrived at our first location.

I honestly can’t even remember the name but King Rama the 6th, I believe, built this little sanctuary for himself and fancy foreigners like our president and European diplomats. Many of the structures were built with the influence of European architecture, juxtaposed with Thai temples and Buddhist relics. The most painful part was our sweet as can be guide, whose English was barely understandable, went on and on and on. I, of course, expect to learn on a historical tour, but there’s only so much information the brain can absorb before it’s exhausted and gives up. Mine was tired so I nodded off early on.

Having the freedom to peruse on our own was nice, we captured photos of the floating temple, paid our respects to Buddha and all the bling, and were able to take in the history at our own pace, in a manner we could comprehend. The best part of the day was the Ayuthaya ancient ruins, what remained after a once thriving, dominant city was burned to the ground by their then enemies, Burma. Witnessing what stayed strong, like the perfect Buddha head placed inside a woven tree trunk, a near flawless Buddha statue, rows of Buddha amputees (the sculptures, not actual amputees, to be clear), and other random structures allowed the mind to fill in stories where gaps left off. Very early on into the morning I got hungry. Food is major for me, as I assume it is for most, but I tend to experience bouts of hanger if I’m left without sustenance. Coupled with my tired state left me in a fairly cranky state. My fellow cohorts felt it too, they were growing impatient with the mandatory, long winded, impossible to understand stories. Many of us purchased coconuts and random liquids to placate our hunger, but that just made me have to pee a lot, which is never fun in Thailand. Who knows where the next lavatory will be or what condition it’ll be in?

Despite these challenges we carried on and saw the oldest Buddha, quite beautiful, and one of the largest reclining Buddhas in Thailand. It looks like Burt Reynolds posing for a calendar, all the reclining Buddhas make me laugh, I know they’re not meant to be funny or sexy, but they’re a weird combo of both for me. Why is he laying like that? I don’t see that image and feel his enlightenment, I see bedroom eyes and someone who just had a great orgasm and he’s reflecting on his experience. I know that says more about my psychology than anything else, but nonetheless, that’s what I see. We finally got to the boat, ate a strange meal that was only satisfying because of my level of hunger, and then we cruised for about an hour back to bangkok. Loved the ruins, everything else was meh.

I got back to Tu’s and wanted to crash but I had dinner set up with a friend of a friend who I’d met once while living in Sicily. I was actually pumped to go to a different part of town and have conversations with people! Out of a strange form of laziness I have, I opted to walk the 5.5 kilometers, rather than take three busses and a train. Walking just made more sense. And I’m glad I did. I walked past so many interesting sights and people, including a mile stretch along a railroad track where Cambodian and Laos refugees lived. It was bizarre. After I got back on a main road and walked under busy overpasses and cross streets, suddenly I was surrounded by skyscrapers, major shopping, a different place entirely, all in the same city. I was able to find our meeting place easily and naturally I arrived about 25 minutes early, so I walked around this mall, shopping is huge in Bangkok, it baffles me but it was air conditioned. Then I people watched at the train station while I waited for Tim.

I excitedly hugged Tim when he arrived and we walked to meet Emmie at their favorite Thai place in the city. That area of town was bustling, the buildings, shops and restaurants all a bit larger in scale than the tiny operations I was used to frequenting in my area of town. We walked in and Emmie greeted us warmly, I liked her immediately. We started asking non stop questions, getting to know each other better. We ordered beers and five items to share, my favorite way to eat. In the order was my first Pad Thai in Thailand, which naturally was the best I’ve ever had. Mmm, I’ll never forget it. We were having such a great time we decided to grab more beers and continue the night at their place nearby. They live in a fairly tall skyscraper with a great balcony overlooking north and west Bangkok. They’re place was modern and cozy, high tech in places, simple in others. I felt right at home. As the hours went on and the beers went down, they kindly offered up their couch to me. I was so excited, not only because I didn’t have to find a way back, but also because I’d get to take a hot shower the next day, an experience I’d missed and needed desperately that week.

I slept deep and long, taking my time to shower and leave in the morning, deciding to spend my last day in Thailand walking Bangkok. I walked to Lumphini Park, Bangkok’s equivalent to Central Park in NYC. I worked up a great appetite and when I arrived at the park, I opted to walk around to see if I could procure some grub there. I couldn’t. There were no food vendors in sight. I meandered around lakes, gazebos, open fields of grass, monitor lizards, hundreds of people living in tents in an apparent government protest, but still, no food. I started to grow hangry. Finally, I found an exit where right outside the park gates were an endless line of street vendors. I plopped down and ate what was my favorite lunch, chicken and pork with glass noodles and vegetables, and Thai chili sauce of course. I was digging the spice there. Again, health went out the window, for less than two dollars I was fed and so satisfied.

Lumphini!

I chose to walk back toward my neighborhood from there, having walked 5 miles already, with many more ahead, I made the decision then and there to get one more foot and leg massage before I departed. I ended up walking through Chinatown, an area of Bangkok still seeing the best economic results compared to other districts. It was bustling, for sure, but everywhere in Bangkok is alive. The smells make me miss New York City, not sure if that’s a compliment to either city but it was my observation. I weaved through the streets and people, sticky with sweat per usual, and made it back to my neighborhood. I stopped by this little hostel cafe for a Thai milk tea, a favorite treat of mine, and then proceeded to have that last foot massage. It was painful at parts, possibly because my feet are nearly flat and I walk a lot, but ultimately a pleasure. Between Bali, Tu’s, and Bangkok, I’d had 7 massages that month, more than my life’s total. I felt spoiled, resisted feeling guilt, embraced and accepted the goodness with gratitude and a smile.

I ate one more delicious dinner and then walked to this place that had piqued my interest from day 1. It was always packed with people seemingly eating bread, I was confused and intrigued. To my utter delight it was just that! Toast with goodness on it, an apparent craze in Thailand. Bread with butter and sugar, coconut custard, chocolate, jam, you name it. I stuffed my face with toast covered in sugar and butter, cut into tiny squares and eaten with a toothpick. Simple and satisfying. I went back to Tu’s, packed the remainder of my things and got ready for my 230 am wake up call. Here I sit, on my third plane, Tokyo to Los Angeles, an hour away from home. I’m most certainly different coming back than I was when I left a month ago, but who wouldn’t be? That’s the gift of travel, it colors your soul, affects your brain chemistry, shakes up what you know and turns it into some old pattern you knew. What I know now informs who I’ll be moving forward, I can’t wait for more life experiences like this. This is the life I want and see, personal exploration and adventure, seeing new things, meeting new people, hearing new languages, absorbing new cultures, so that I may forever be renewed.

My journey home over the Indian Ocean

Yogi Fight Club: Last Week in Bali

It’s difficult to put into words what this experience has meant to and done for me, particularly because I’ve just recently closed out a week full of mostly silence, without reading and writing. I feel cleansed, thanks to the Sacred Water Temple. I feel I’ve shed a skin, I have a lovely mark on my stomach to prove it. I feel beautiful, and I’m no longer afraid to say it. 

 

This last week studying Yoga in Bali had me exploring deeper within myself than I’d yet to go, even here, where I’ve excavated years of fossilized baggage from my psyche, stress in my underbelly, disbelief in my heart. I truly feel I’ve washed it all away. I sit here back in Los Angeles filled with resounding hope, truly thrilled to take what I’ve learned, along with my renewed self into the teaching world. 

 

In our last week at Soulshine, me and my fellow Mukti yogis practiced Kriya Yoga. Dating back as old as Yoga itself, there isn’t much written or known about Kriya, except to those who’ve delved into it. It is intended to be a very personal experience, the discipline of Kriya taking you deeper into yourself, your karmas, and ultimately, deeper into your awakening. I felt so grateful to have this experience in Bali, and to be led so beautifully by my teacher, Julie Rader. 

 

Our group of yogis at Soulshine were so jovial and energetic. We laughed constantly and grew in our practice with the help of discussion, self deprecation, and encouragement. The Kriyas required a quiet and calm focus most of us weren’t used to, along with some fascinating practices most weren’t even familiar. Naturally, with the unfamiliar comes discomfort, a desperate need to make sense of what we were doing, to understand the whys and hows, even though we weren’t yet ready to know. 

 

So in discussing these issues with our fellow students and teachers, we were reminded the Kriyas are not spoken, nor are they written. They’re passed down from teacher to student, open practitioner from wise master. A part of the journey is going in, seeking answers from no other source but our own, not needing to express and project every experience we have, but instead, allowing the stillness within to reveal solutions to the challenges that arise. 

 

Being a bit of a jokester, needing myself and others to feel at ease, to feel grounded, I couldn’t help but joke, “This is totally the yoga fight club. First rule, you don’t talk about kriya club. That’s the second rule too. Shut up and Be.” It’s certainly not as harsh as I make it out, it’s quite amazing actually, but I found the silence and solitude portion of this practice most humbling and most enlightening. 

 

This was our last week in Ubud, our last week together, this new group falling in hard love with each other, the intensive experience creating stronger bonds many of us didn’t even feel with some family, so the silence was both a great challenge and a magnificent gift. We were able to connect deeply through eye contact, subtle touch, a conscious understanding, without needing to cloud it all with language and letters. 

 

A particular joy during that week was Julie’s 1 year old, Samson. Already the buddha baby, the cutest fricken thing you’d ever lay eyes on, he had a wisdom in his eyes and a calmness in his being. And he’s a baby! He had many loving caretakers in Bali, each taking turns holding him, feeding him, singing to him. It was during our silent meals that Samson seemed the most lively, picking up on our unusually quiet energy, he made strong efforts to make us all laugh. Targeting us one by one, with eye contact, a cute little wave, the most peculiar and adorable noises, he’d have us all in the giggles, an awesome reminder not to take ourselves too seriously. 

Samson and one of my favorite men in Bali, Paht Tang Gu

 

I had to constantly remind myself, just because I’m silent, doesn’t mean I’m depressed or stoic. If anything, I should emote even more than I already do! I just beam my smile from one end of the sky to the other, flail my hands and arms bigger, lift my eyebrows higher, dance weirder, hop around like a crazy person. The point of the silence and stillness was to become more alert, more aware, increase the quality of my sense perceptions and feel MORE. And that’s precisely what happened. 

 

A 430 wake up call sent us all to our neti pots, up to the studio for a little warm up, some pranayama, and whatever else we needed to prepare for the Kriya practice. The sky still pitch black, the earth quiet except for the echoing sounds of nature, we delved right in. Over two hours later, we were finished. Having about an hour until breakfast, we each silently left the studio on our own time and proceeded to meander about the grounds of Soulshine absorbing our surroundings. We saw things we weren’t keyed into before, heard sounds as if they were brand new, felt textures our skin had never touched. It was poignant, the difference was palpable. 

 

 

We were able to speak in the afternoon and up until we finished our dinner, many of us choosing to set a rule that silence began only when you left the table, so we’d linger for a few extra minutes, sometimes hours, to treasure the conversation and laughter together. That last week was so special. We were revealing truths about ourselves, our fears, our circumstances, that we’d yet to even utter to anyone, feeling the catharsis and release from the simple expression, and the connection with each other. 

 

I’d sneak in naps during our mid morning break. I couldn’t manage to fall asleep before midnight that week, something about wanting to savor every waking moment in Bali before it ended. I spent a couple more afternoons at Seniman, making friends with fellow cafe patrons, the very amenable staff, and my muse. I spent one of my last evenings in Bali riding on the back of a motorcycle for the first time, visiting a large wood carving gallery that amazed and humbled me, watching shooting stars at night on a desolate beach, and capturing the essence of the Balinese and the Bali way of life so I could perhaps bring some of that magic back to the States. 

 

Our last day together was one of the most special in my life. The last Kriya practice was transformative, the last Classical Sivananda practice led by Julie was so grounding, and our last playful class with Christy so uplifting. The day was warm and bright, not to sound corny but there was some legit love in the air, and just a tiny bit of sadness over the impending end. I sincerely did not want to leave, my mind was bargaining, somehow finding ways I could stay, completely forgetting the life and loved ones waiting for me back home. Bali was so transformative and life altering, it had me saying fuck it to my past, I can start over here! 

Some Mandala Yogini Warrior 3 Love 

 

Our closing ceremonies together were nothing short of momentous. I’d never experienced the joyful explosion of a Love Bomb before, from either end, but I was fortunate to that day. We all sat mandala style, side by side in a circle of love, while one of our fellow yoginis lay in svasana in the middle. With no rhyme, reason, or order, we just expressed words that came to mind when thinking of that person. Shouting love bombs popcorn style, we’d engulf our friend in a sea of love, appreciation and support. Most of us couldn’t escape this without tears. 

 

Sealing the beauty and the training in, our teachers lovingly placed a bindi on each of our 3rd eyes, after which we walked and stood in front of each yogi, one by one saying to the other, “I AM a Teacher,” with the other lovingly acknowledging, “You ARE a Teacher.” We leaned in and touched bindis, third eye to third eye, our consciousness hugging. It was so monumentally powerful, soul shattering, no bullshit. I cannot escape this memory still. It will live in me forever. 

 

Each one of our turns in the love bomb and bindi circle was unique, as each one of us are distinct women in our own right. My experience was particularly emotional. My personality is naturally dynamic, vocal, expressive, and passionate. I am confident in many aspects of myself but have real trouble believing I deserve love, security and abundance 100% of the time. I resist out of guilt, out of worry the universe will see my confidence as arrogance, out of fear of shining my own light. 

 

During one very therapeutic circle earlier in the training, we each took turns sharing our intentions, one by one my fellow yogis shared with courage their specific struggles, and their hopes for transcendence beyond Bali. It was during this powerful conversation that the famous piece from Marianne Williamson was read, the passage below:

 

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

 

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d heard this before, read this before, but only now, in Bali, surrounded by encouraging teachers, friends, a circle of trust I suppose, that I recognized my cycle. I am afraid of my own power. I see so much good in myself, I see so much light in my being, I see so much uniqueness in me, but something in me holds me back from really living it out loud. I share fragments, I indulge in facets, but I have yet to allow the totality of my being radiate the joy, love, and the pure exuberance I feel I carry, the full woman I AM. 

 

So I shared my intention. I said, “I think I’m a badass, but I’m afraid to really live it. There’s so much I want to do. I know I’m an excellent, creative teacher, but even now, it feels weird to say it aloud. I want to lead retreats, teach more and more people, share what I have to give. I want to write a book. I want to travel and spread all this energy I have within. I want to embrace myself fully, with love and sincere confidence, without doubt, without question, and I want to feel I deserve to feel that way.” 

 

So I entered my love bomb truly not knowing what I’d hear, expecting my fellow yogis and friends to shower me with kindness, but still not quite aware of how they saw me, only feeling what it was like to live within my skin. I knew I’d helped people, my students in Chicago and Italy appreciated me, that felt great, but I still couldn’t fully accept their love for some reason. I’ve written in my previous pieces about this, and as I sit in a cafe in LA after a week spent visiting studios, trying to find work in this strange and competitive city, I find these lessons repeating themselves. I’m making sense of them, trying to sink them in, trying desperately to BELIEVE. 

 

My personal intention for Bali, for 2013, for my life, is to fucking BELIEVE, believe I am worthy, believe in my light, believe I deserve the abundance I’ve already received and believe I deserve the abundance I yearn for in the future, BELIEVE in ME. Fuck, why is it so difficult? I write this with tears in my eyes, an ache in my gut, and shelter over my heart. I write this to release it. I make a promise to you, whoever you are, and to me, whoever the fuck I am, to let it go, for good. I will progress having truly shed the skin, shed the last four letters of my name. I AM DANI. I AM AWESOME. I AM LOVE. AND THAT’S OKAY!

 

I laid in the middle of my friends, closed my eyes, felt my heart race in anticipation, having watched these beautiful yogis receive before me, feeling the end of this experience upon me, the shift in me already occurring, digging for the courage to continue, hoping to make my friends and teachers proud. The experience was too overwhelming to handle, the tears fell immediately. The love and generosity was too powerful to even comprehend. I could barely hear the words, I just felt sincere LOVE, and I needed to not only believe it, but find it within myself. 

 

The words I recall hearing from multiple sources were VIBRANT, POWERFUL, PASSIONATE, ENTHUSIASTIC, INSPIRING, LOVING, COURAGEOUS, HUMBLE, a dear friend broke the love with some humor and said SENIMAN!, loved that, then I heard FUTURE MOTHER, I cried further, then I heard DESERVING, and I dissolved. I shed more tears now just at the memory. I owe it to them to carry their belief within me. And I hope they do as well. 

 

I sobbed as I met the eyes of my peers and proclaimed that I AM A TEACHER, each one lovingly affirming, YOU ARE A TEACHER. I hugged my teachers tight, soiling their shirts with my tears, returned to my mat so full, so alive, so abundant. I must take this with me. They all deserve for me to carry on the Mukti love, and I deserve it too. 

I drew the photo below during our 2nd week, it’s supposed to be a visual representation of my intention, my heart surrounded by yogis. I realized recently how this already came to fruition, because this precisely represents the Love Bomb experience.

 

Our teachers gave us some wise suggestions as to how to healthily transition back home. I experienced some jaded feelings after returning from Haiti, seeing the States as selfish, consumerist, competitive, negative. And we are, not to be negative as well, but we so are. We are a society predicated on individualism, one, rather than oneness. But there are rising pockets of positivity, of collaboration, of connectedness, and the yoga community is filled with them! 

 

They also encouraged us to keep some stories for ourselves, to share the many extraordinary experiences with our loved ones but to keep some for us. So beyond the Kriyas, which I will continue to be vague and not really speak about, I also come back with some truly special Balinese memories that I’ll hold close to my heart forever. All I can feel now is how I’m meant to go back, to teach there, to absorb more of their beauty, culture and LOVE. And that’s exactly what I’ll do, in Bali, Cali and beyond. 

 

I have a lot to give, I am but a humble work in progress. Much of my teachings involve sharing my flaws and challenges with my students to maybe help them deal with their own, to show them they’re not alone, and as awesome as I am, and as wonderful as many teachers and leaders are, they are human too. No one needs to idolize or copy anyone else. At the end of the day, we all poop. Even Oprah and Brad Pitt have bouts of diarrhea, and that’s what keeps me going on days when I feel inadequate. We all poop, friends. Be Free. 

 

 

You are beneath no one. My path is unique. So is yours. I will encourage you along your path and trust myself in mine. I am grateful for each human being, for even the worst is a teacher along my way. I am worthy. I am deserving. So are you. 

 

Thank you, Bali. You’ll never know what you’ve meant. I move forward hoping to carry a fraction of your genuine goodness and peace within my heart. I’ll never be the same and I’m so so grateful. Thank you, Julie and Christy. Thank you, Mukti Yoga. Thank you, Mukti friends and yogis. Thank you, Yoga. Thank you, Me, for doing the dirty work, and at least being honest on this weird journey. Thank you, loved ones, readers, students, humans. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. 

 

 

OM SWASTYASTU!

Striving for Balance: Delving Deep in Bali

A moment of thanks is in order for you, the reader, my friends and fellow yogis here in Bali, my teachers, my family and all those who’ve contributed positively to my life here in the cosmos. This was a densely spiritual week, lots of breakthroughs and awakenings. These are accounts from my perspective only, I imagine my friends have very special recollections of their own. This is just a piece of my weird little puzzle. So grateful for Bali, Yoga and Love.

Week two has come to an end. A wave of emotions as active as the coastal waters in Bali has sent me deep within myself, deeper than I’ve ever dared to explore at one time. I’m reflecting on the last 7 days (feels like mere seconds and also like decades) from my favorite cafe in Ubud, this quirky and creative little shop called Seniman (artist in Balinese). Having spots like this creates a feeling of home; conversations with the owner, staff and locals help to establish roots that I aim to strengthen even after I leave. It’s my fourth trip here this week, and while my fellow yogis may joke it’s due to the impossibly beautiful Balinese man who works here (and that certainly doesn’t hurt, I was born boy crazy and I may be very happily married, but I’m not dead, there is great joy in attraction and flirtation, and I always intend to enjoy that life pleasure), it is really this creature comfort I seek wherever I am in the world, a space to sit and be, to write, sip, chat and watch the passersby.

It is here at Seniman that I’m choosing to digest the miles of introspection I feel I’ve walked this week, where I’m absorbing the reality of where I am, literally and figuratively, and where I’m making sense of the peaks and valleys that continue to occur in this complicated but beautiful existence. In this second week here there were experiences of beauty and joy, exceedingly fun excursions and cultural events, combined with some very cavernous personal work inspired by the Chakras. Our teachers led, inspired, challenged and encouraged us greatly. They created a safe space to face exactly what we were feeling with courage and honesty, and it was because of their leadership and the energy they created that we were all able to surrender so deeply, and breakthrough so strongly. I’m so grateful for them and for this monumental transformation. I feel so cleansed and renewed, like I’ve done years of therapy and work in a matter of hours, and most importantly, I feel highly motivated to continue this progress in my days, weeks, and years to come. Here’s how it went…

On Sunday we kicked off our usual way, 6 am Neti pot, 5 Tibetans, pranayama (manipulation of the life force, breath work), and asana. We began chakra week with the Root/ Muladhara. We had a very grounding, focused practice, placing importance on our foundation, our alignment, our strength, so that we’d have strong roots in order to grow tall branches. Feeling connected to the feeling of home within, to our community, our families, our tribe, we all took a look within to see how balanced we were from the root. It had me craving ritual, tradition, even closer connections to my loved ones than I already have. Whenever I feel frazzled, confused and unsure, that is precisely what brings me back to perspective, to the moment, to the truth that all is well and most stress I experience is mind made. The more grounded I am, the more courageous I feel in branching out. We were asked very inquisitive questions, ones we then answered on paper with our non-dominant hand (an extremely difficult task for me as I tend to judge and berate even the most meaningless imperfections in myself, so ultimately very helpful and therapeutic). We planted seeds of intention and trusted in our healthy roots to support their growth. I’ve always felt very earthy and my first teacher training had me recognizing I needed the balance of space. Now, I feel I need to re-establish my firm roots so I may continue to grow in a balanced and healthy way.

Muladhara inspired asana

That evening we were honored to have dinner in the home of Agung, our kind and loving Balinese caretaker who runs Soulshine beautifully. We were able to witness first hand what strong rituals and tradition means in Bali, and how seamlessly it is lived in this country. We were given a detailed tour of his lovely home, learned of the many Hindu customs and ceremonies performed in the temples and villages, and got a small glimpse into how an extended family lives harmoniously together for their entire lives. We were taught how to create offerings by first making a flower shaped tray out of palm or banana leaves, then thoughtfully placing flowers (in the proper order) until you’ve made a vibrantly colorful piece to thank God for a healthy, happy existence. The woman of the house (usually) makes dozens a day. I found the commitment humbling and daunting; what loving, dedicated people. We were also exposed to another tradition: Balinese dance performed by Agung’s twin daughters. They were dressed and made up exquisitely, looking more poised and gorgeous than I could ever attempt, even on my wedding day. Each of their three dances were executed with precision and grace. The dexterity of their fingers, intriguing movement of their eyes, and overall detail was so impressive, especially for their young age. I was humbled yet again. We ate a delicious meal made with love, witnessed devotion and love, and felt nothing but love in the air and between us all. It was so perfect for our first chakra work, I’m so grateful for that whole day.

The next day the sky opened up, how befitting for it to rain on Swadisthana/ 2nd chakra day. This chakra lies within the pelvic bowl, behind the pubic bone, in front of the sacrum. Its element is water, the energy center being the source of our creativity, our sensuality and sexuality, and deeply housed emotions. It was also very appropriate it fell on a Monday, such a universally emotional day. I’ve always felt very connected to this chakra, I have almost an insatiable sexual appetite, I think of it early and often, I studied sexual behavior in college, I write about it now. I often feel very primal, very animalistic in my nature, and sex is the ultimate expression of that biological calling. But deeper than sex, deeper than creative pursuits, is the innate feeling of belonging in the world you live in, how comfortable you feel in being held, being helped, and being loved. I think I’ve always done a good job of appearing balanced but I’ve recognized through this inward journey that I’ve been far from it. I have no idea how to swallow my pride and ask for help without feeling guilty, insecure or ashamed. I’m embarrassed to share weakness, period.

That’s even tough to admit now. But the lesson I learned as I wept buckets of tears on my mat that day was there is tremendous beauty in vulnerability, and more than that, immense strength. It takes guts to admit you’re human, to admit you need love and support from others, and to open yourself to receiving it. Somehow receiving is an admittance to the need and my psyche always saw that as weakness. But I’d then repeatedly feel disappointed in my progress and would close myself off to the abundance I really wanted and clearly didn’t believe I deserved. Belief, something I encourage my students to hone in themselves, but remained a personal struggle within me. Do I deserve love, abundance, freedom, support? Yes. And so do you. And I probably distracted myself with sex and creative expression, neglecting the softer more subtle energy that’s so damn important in feeling balanced and whole.

We’re all in this together. I’ve understood the concept of Oneness intellectually for many years, experiencing bouts of knowing within the context of yoga and some deep personal connections. In order to reach Samadhi, eternal bliss and consistent enlightenment, one must identify and connect with that universal consciousness, the string that ties us all together as one worldly unit. Yoga by definition means union and I intend to accept the help and love I hope I give. I intend to share my vulnerability as well as embrace my passion and unique expression with a sense of innocence and adventure.

After a very emotional morning and afternoon delving into the 2nd chakra, we made our first trip to Seniman. I’d expressed earlier in our training that I’d always had issues with patience, mainly concerning my personal growth and achievements. I never thought I was where I was supposed to be, like I wasn’t working hard enough, doing enough to reach the success I thought I needed to feel good inside. My intention for the year of 2012 was patience. As I transition from Chicago to LA I must keep this grace so I don’t make important decisions with haste, but rather living from harmony, surrendering to the flow of life with ease. With tears in my eyes, I flipped over a goddess card after practice, the one pictured below. Another message from the universe to be water, fluid and luscious, navigating life’s wavy waters with humility, a sense of humor and acceptance.

Our ride into Ubud took an extra long time that day, the rain pouring down mirroring my inner release. What usually takes ten minutes took 45, another lesson in patience. We walked into the inviting open space of Seniman with relief and joy. We indulged in lattes and little sweet treats and struck up a conversation with the very dry, funny and interesting British owner. It was then I felt a masculine energy behind me, something I was drawn to but couldn’t see. A moment later I turned my head and there he was, a muse of a man. He walked and worked with this calm yet strong energy, in no hurry but wasting no time. It was in that second my tears dried up and I returned to my favorite part of the 2nd chakra, the orange light emanating from my pelvic bowl, a little sexual feast for my eyes and loins. Between missing my delicious husband (who’s secure enough not to feel threatened by my silly crushes) deeply, having an excessively emotional day, and the rain pouring down, that yummy treat was just what I needed. I felt cleansed, renewed and inspired from then on, thanks to Yoga, my teachers, my supportive yogis, my honest self reflection, and the tantalizing joy of desire. Yum, what a luscious, transformative day.

Svadisthana inspired asana

What a difference a day makes, and boy was Tuesday a different day. I awoke at 530 with some serious energy, like I’d slept for years or lost 40 pounds. I felt lighter, more alert, strangely more innocent, like I’d let go of this grown up filter and returned to my pure nature. I immediately loved that day, didn’t care how it went, a small transformation had taken over and I was not going back. Luckily, it was 3rd chakra day! Manipura, located in the region of the navel and solar plexus, this is the seat of our soul, simultaneously housing our ego and our essence. How powerful do you feel? How firm are your boundaries? Are you comfortable saying no? How about yes? The answer to these and many other related questions can be found here, in recognizing how balanced your Manipura is.

Our practice was fiery, befitting the 3rd chakra’s element, full of play and challenge, lots of arm balances and fun transitions. I loved it, it suits me. I am a fiery person by nature, very passionate in my personality, unafraid to emote or show strength. Naturally that is also one of my crosses to bear, finding a balance in strength and softness. I have a lot of power and yoga has helped build a ton of strength, but I need not find my confidence there. I shouldn’t lead with that foot. I often remind my students it doesn’t matter whether they can balance on their hands, twist into a pretzel or perform some challenging posture. It’s fun, it can be empowering to see where your body can go, but it says nothing of who we truly are, and it is a mere fraction of what it means to be a yogi.

My intention for balancing this chakra within myself is to find a delicate balance of when and how to say no. In my work, I’ve often said yes too many times, which is only detrimental to myself and the person I’m saying yes to because it is not sincere. What I’ve agreed to is soiled with a worried lie and therefore will not extract my best. It won’t foster a stronger relationship with the person in question either. A firm, tactful, nonemotional no is best. On the other side of the coin, I’ve often said no out of fear, the exhilaration of yes was too much for me to handle. Not wanting to showcase my fears and hesitations, or possibly make a fool of myself in front of others, I’ve kept myself safe many times, secure inside a no. This has improved majorly for me in the past few years, thanks to yoga and writing, reminding myself life is short and ultimately, the only person who cares if I mess up or fail is me. Empowering Manipura is about getting out of our own way, and that’s precisely what I intend to do.

To celebrate earth, water and fire, our teacher training group took a trip to Echo beach. The sound and rhythm of the ocean is so therapeutic, so restoring. It’s also tremendously humbling, watching the power of that natural force, witnessing the reckless order with which it crashes to shore. A fellow graduate student of mine, Kendra, mentioned a great piece of advice she heard in a hard time in her life, “if you’re concerned about control, try stopping a wave.” I’ve never in my life seen such active, large and gorgeous waves as I saw that day in Bali, a huge and consistent reminder that most things in life are out of my control. I can resist it, struggle, and stress over the unpredictability, or I can surrender and take power over what I can control: my attitude. The day was blissful, we explored tidal pools, climbed rocks, collected ornate shells, watched beautiful Balinese men fish and meander about, happened upon many dogs, cats, cows and horses, all on one beach!

Manipura inspired asana

We ate dinner sitting perched on a cliff overlooking the beautiful ocean, drinking coconuts and enjoying each other’s company. We left just in the knick of time to make the fire dance, a popular Balinese custom and tradition. That evening they told the story of Hanuman, the monkey god son of Shiva and Paravati we’d heard and read before. It was difficult to understand the story but entertaining nonetheless. Townsmen of all ages sat in a large circle executing this very primal chant, something none of us can execute still, but we’ll love and remember forever. After, we walked to the temple that stood strong out in the ocean. It was pitch black, the lit moon and stars creating an awesome silhouette, the ocean spray from waves guarding the temple’s entrance. We humbly backed away, enjoying only from a distance, the lessons from the past three days really setting in.

On Wednesday we dove right into the heart, Anahata chakra, the forth of seven, the bridge between the higher and lower energy centers, and a personal juggernaut for me. I know I am loving, I’ve always had a keen sense of compassion, but somewhere along the way the doors to my heart opened less and less, an armor hardening the way in. Still to this day I consider few people close and trustworthy. I believe most humans are good, well meaning, capable of love and trust, but few resonate deeply enough with me to let in. Protecting yourself from pain really signifies a distrust within your being. I clearly didn’t trust that I could handle disappointment, heartbreak or betrayal. But of course that isn’t true. I’ve handled it before and I can handle it again. And so can you.

Then there’s the difficult concept of worthiness. Do you accept yourself, good, bad, ugly, highs, lows, past, present, and every little nuance in between? Do you love you? It can be reflected in the mere acceptance of a compliment, many of us reject praise in that very basic way. Someone tells us we did a great job and instead of owning our positive piece, we dismiss the accolade and pick ourselves apart, sending yet another message to the universe that we are not enough, we’re still not worthy of the love and success we want. Somehow we often can’t see who’s standing in the way of our bliss because it’s us! We’re that barricade that’s withholding positive and loving energy to come in. And we are just the ones to lift it.

It is within that vein that I went into our practice that day, with a good honest look at who I still was, a well intended human being struggling to truly accept herself, to say I love you in the mirror and mean it. Our teachers really helped get us there and it was on that day and in that week that two postures which formerly eluded me finally found a home in my body. With heart opening you’re usually blind, just going for it sternum first, collar bones in a smile like Hello World! Here I am, I love me so someone out there is bound to as well. I had trust and belief as my foundation so the courage to love boldly naturally followed. Fact of the matter is I was born into love, from love, grew up surrounded by love and abundance, somehow married the most loving man I’ve ever known, living with dogs full of love, moving to foreign countries and finding more love, studying yoga and encountering more love, and then to big cities where I was blasted by love in all directions, from friends, yogis, animals, you name it.

So my struggle was not only in opening myself to the abundance and joy in my future, but also in truly accepting that I’d deserved the beauty I’d already experienced. Again, worthiness. And however subtle my insecurities and rejection of love might have been, that was echoing in the universe and it kept me glued to the same place. In order to transition and keep growing as a teacher and human being, I needed to recognize the big and small ways I was sabotaging myself and decide right then and there to stop. And so I am. I am loving. I am kind. I am smart. I am creative. I deserve love and abundance. So do you. There is plenty for all of us, plenty of love, energy, time, money. We must accept ourselves and open up to receive it. We can encourage each other along the way.

Anahata inspired asana

I returned to Seniman that afternoon and it was on that loving day my handsome muse gave me a little love in the form of a simple compliment, “you look great.” I smiled and said, “thank you, you look great too.” How fun! I totally was emanating an energy of love, of myself and the world around me, and however small it seemed, the universe responded. I saw my curly haired soul sister that night, we’d both purchased these lovely chakra necklaces from the local yoga shop, mine being the green Anahata, and hers being the blue Vishuddhi, for throat chakra, the 5th, the very one we’d be delving into the next day. We chose symbols that resonated with us, where we needed to grow, how we wanted to lead. Each chakra is important on the path to balance, but some carry deeper challenges than others. I’m excited to help my students open their hearts wider as my teachers have helped with mine. I’m going to love and pay it forward from this moment on.

Thursday, Chakra 5, Vishuddi. Here we find our voice, our expression, our truth, the center of honesty and purification. When balancing the throat chakra, I often think about how well I speak versus how well I listen. This is very easy to observe in others. We’ve all been around talkative people who seem disinterested in the stories or responses from others, only wishing to project. And we’ve also been exposed to those who sit quietly, preferring only to listen and absorb, something inside holding their voices hostage. It is pivotal to our happiness and well being to respect our own truth while accepting that same power in others. It’s very easy to hide behind shyness, to let fear cripple our throats. It’s just as easy to project strength and confidence through loud, boisterous talking. But neither of the above reflect authenticity, balance or love. We must own our truths and intentions and be unafraid to voice them, willing to release stagnant patterns and old, unhelpful conditions.

For harmony in the 5th chakra we must purify. Not to worry, nothing crazy is required, unless that’s you’re bag, and if so, keep on keepin on! A yoga practice full of throat, heart, neck and shoulder opening coupled with audible breathing, chanting and guttural releases really gets things moving in the right direction. Staying aware of your thoughts, when you bite your tongue, when you should actually shut up and listen, and when you should tactfully speak your truth will be an ongoing guide on your path to peace. It’s often helpful when speaking to ask first:
Is it…
Tactful
Helpful
Informative
Necessary
Kind?

If not, perhaps it’s best unsaid. Use your wisest judgment and remember to T.H.I.N.K., our communication is providing constant karmic feedback. Listen to it.

On this beautiful, airy day, our Mukti yogis set off on another field trip, this time to a sacred water temple, perfect for intention setting and purification. It was overwhelmingly busy that day, a sea of devoted Hindus crowded the grounds and temples. We walked in with sarongs unsure of our next move. We opted for a look around, choosing to stop as a small group for some stillness and meditation, and then one by one took a journey into the waters. An open trough filled with coy, the water temple was equipped with over ten fountains, one just a few feet away from the next, each pouring refreshing water back in. One soul at a time lined up and doused themselves clean, purifying an intention only they knew. Walking right in, clothes on, I patiently waited my turn to rinse. I set intentions for each, selecting personal challenges to overcome, choosing to accept myself as I was and as I am, moving forward only with love, ready to open myself to whatever lessons, abundance and joy the universe had to give me. It was so powerful! I had no idea how truly cleansing it would feel. I’ll never forget that day and each time I find I’m struggling with an intention, I’ll reflect on how I chose to seal it in. And I will not look back.

Vishuddhi inspired asana

Friday brought both challenge and triumph as we delved into both Ajna/ Third Eye chakra, as well as Sahasrara/ Crown chakra, our intuition and our enlightenment. We began that morning with the classical Sivananda program, a beautifully balanced practice consisting of the classical Surya A’s (sun salutations), first with one movement per breath, then rapidly to build heat and our heart rates. A mini svasana in between, we then continued with sirsasana/ headstand, held for roughly 3.5 minutes, breathing naturally as our teacher read us the accompanying codes, suggested moral guidelines to contemplate as you surrender into the pose. A series of well thought out counter poses followed, more mini svasanas in between, all culminating in a 30 minute yoga nidra meditation. Pure bliss! That practice was just what we all needed after a week of deep physical and psychological exploration. We needed the simple focus, to get grounded, recognize our strengths, re-cultivate our purpose and intentions, listen to the rhythm of our breath and hearts, watch our thoughts, move with a quiet ease, feel still. We needed to Be, and that practice was perfect.

That afternoon my buddy, Jen, fellow graduate yogi and sarcastic soul sister, and I went to Seniman (naturally). We shared their coffee dessert selection, a coffee granita, coffee ice cream, biscuits that pair well with coffee and lattes. As usual, everything was delicious, comforting, satisfying. We then walked around, perusing shops and bookstores, sweating under the Bali sun. Our favorite driver, Karge, picked us up around 4, and we took a very long, traffic filled drive back to Soulshine, passing the gigantic white statue of Arjuna, the many wood carving galleries, furniture stores, laundry shops, and Balinese motorcyclists until we finally, in the knick of time, made it back home.

Almost immediately after our arrival back on our mats we were regretting making it in time for our practice. Kundalini was rising and whether we were ready or not, it was happening. A fiery practice full of long, difficult holds coupled with breath of fire had us all digging deep into our selves. I endured it all next to my roommate and friend, the beautiful Yve, and we discussed later how we each garnered additional strength from the other. Somehow we made it through multiple rounds of camel pose, cobra and low boat for three minutes at a time, kapala bhati only deepening the challenge. During, our sweet, warm, loving teacher, Julie, was the perfect and ideal motivator. She consistently echoed how we can do this, we are stronger than our minds, and how persevering through this practice would show how we are capable of anything. Ain’t that the truth! Holy shit, I was humbled and also inspired by that entire day, I felt reinvigorated and steeped in belief for myself and Yoga.

After our exhausting practice we read a story we all took turns contributing to. We each wrote and drew a page, only having looked at the page before. What resulted was a sweetly hilarious tale of a young girl in search of herself. Over the course of the nearly 20 page saga, she went from a girl to a woman, back to a girl again, had straight blond hair, brown hair, curly red hair, and many personal triumphs each related to our independent endeavors and understandings. We all loved it, our cheeks hurting from laughing so much, our faces cleansed with tears. Week two was coming to an end, we’d be saying goodbye to three of our loving yoginis, saying hello to one more day off, with Kriya week looming in the coming hours. There was a strong sense of hanging onto the moment, of enjoying every bit of the fun, laughter and love we’d experienced together, and savoring all the goodness Bali had bestowed upon us.

Ajna/ Sahasrara inspired asana

The graduate yogis went into town that evening. Yve, Jen, Kendra, Lara and I were dropped off at the Namaste store (a pricy place full of crystals, malas, singing bowls, books and yoga inspired jewelry) and slowly walked down Hanuman perusing its many shops. Jen found what she was on mission for, Yve grabbed a cafe at Kafe, met an interesting artist named Joe, and then we call reconvened at the Yoga shop, our favorite place for all things yoga. After, we put our name in at Kebun, a restaurant serving delicious looking pizza, a craving we’d all been building for two weeks, a must have on that Friday evening.

We decided to walk around some more rather than wait for our table and in that 100 meters out from the restaurant, maybe two minutes in, poor Kendra falls into one of Ubud’s many holes. The street was dark, the hole almost entirely undetectable, and she quickly went in right foot first, about 2.5 feet into the earth, caught herself with her hands and leapt quickly back out. She suffered a gnarly cut on her shin, one that poured blood onto the side walk and across the street to the convenience store where we grabbed water, iodine and bandages. Kendra toughed it out with relative ease. Once we took care of her we had to attend to Lara, who was feeling quite faint at the sight of blood. It was pretty comical, we laughed a lot over our pizza and during our cab ride home. Another adventurous day came to a close.

The next day, today, Saturday, Yve and I opted for a relaxed day off. Our previous weeks and Saturdays had been full of adventure (read previous article if you’re curious as to our antics!), we craved a slow moving day that felt like we lived in town, just meandering about with the locals. That’s just what we did. After a tearful goodbye to Jen and Danielle, we set off for Ubud. We walked slowly around the streets, checking out shops as if for the first time. I got some little gifts for loved ones and then wandered into a dress store for a gift for myself. I saw this beautiful blue dress, long, sheer, with delicate white leaves weaved into the pattern. For the first time in my life, I tried on the dress and didn’t take it off. I paid and walked out the door wearing the dress. How fun!

We spent the rest of the day chatting, eating, sipping coffee, reading and writing at Seniman. At this point, we were seeing some of the same locals, getting recognized by the staff, and gradually entertainingly a few of our fellow yogis as they passed through. It was so fun! It still is. It’s been a very productive few hours and simply a fantastic day. It truly feels like we live here, and I just know how difficult it’s going to be to leave one week from today. Before those sad feelings creep in, I remind myself that everything in life is transient, every event and being has an expiration date, so without attachment I will enjoy this magical place and these magnificent people, happy for every experience that comes my way, not upset that it’s ending, grateful it happened to me at all.

Shanti, Love and Om Swastyastu

A Week in the Life of a Yogi in Bali

A Week in the Life of a Yogi in Bali

Quick disclaimer: thank you for reading. I am not an efficient blogger. In fact, I don’t consider myself a blogger, more of a creative writer, a lover of life attempting to make sense of my experiences and hope they resonate with others. As a yoga teacher, I feel I use my words well, I’m economical and efficient, allowing the class to feel like a poem, with meaning resonating differently with each individual. Only when I write a poem am I brief. I’ve not had much chance to write here in Bali so please know that describing a week of adventure here (feels simultaneously like an hour and a year) deserves more detail than a normal blog would allow. There are pictures for those who don’t wish to read girthy material and prefer some snap shots. I take no offense either way. I’m grateful the cosmos has connected us, regardless how well we know each other. In short, Bali is joyful loving beauty. You should visit.

Week 1:
A journey inward, that’s precisely what Yoga is. And what better place to delve into that inner space than one of the most mystical, soulful, enlightened places of the planet? I’m fortunate to be living a dream, a dream of my own and one borrowed by many other envious and deserving souls. As I reflect on over a week in this majestic land I can’t help but feel guilt for all those who’d love to live this dream along with me. I so wish I could snap my fingers and place the dream of Bali into the hands of others but I cannot; so my hope is to share in my sincere and deep gratitude for what has been an unbelievable and transformative experience thus far.

My expedition to Bali started first with a big move cross country from Chicago to Los Angeles. A long road trip full of camping, tears, beauty and near danger moments led to us finding a home, moving into that home and settling for about twenty breaths until the reality of my adventure to east Asia was thrust upon me. I barely had time to fantasize about it, even less time to prepare, so all moments leading up to my arrival in Denpasar were surprises beyond even my wildest imagination.

I flew to Tokyo, Kuala Lumpur, then to Denpasar, all smooth sailing. I met my lovely driver, Made (pronounced Ma Day), and we wheeled through busy, narrow Balinese streets together, an hour and a half to Ubud, to my home for three weeks, where I’d dive into a 500 hour graduate level yoga teacher training with a dozen or so strangers, Soulshine Bali.

When we finally pulled into Soulshine, I couldn’t believe my eyes, nose, ears and mind. I’d seen pictures, read books, watched films, but nothing outside of real life experience can prepare you for the beauty that is right in front of your face, accosting your being with vibrance and pleasure. Geometric patterns of cascading rice patties, tall coconut trees, large banana leaves, coy ponds, the sounds of roosters, geckos (oh yes, geckos make some crazy ass sounds!), Bali dogs, and flowing streams, the sweet smell of ripe fruit and fresh flowers, and the feeling of a warm, comforting breeze surrounds you the minute you step out of the car and into real life in Bali. It is astonishing, breathtaking, drastically unbelievable, overwhelming from the start.

The walking path to Soulshine is paved with mosaic stone, every few feet a sweet word welcoming you home. Be Free, it says. Let Your Soul Shine. Okay! Sounds great.

Sensory overload continues as I maneuver around the grounds, open air, paths carved in stone, gorgeous wood doors and furniture, a spectacular view from every window. A crew of beautiful and kind women greets you from an open kitchen, the smell of fresh juice wafts through the air, a large family style table just feet away, and just below that, the most beautiful infinity pool I’ve ever seen. All I kept thinking was, is this real life?

The awe and disbelief continued as I was given a tour by Wayan (every first born Hindi In Bali is called Wayan) through the three floors. Large, vibrantly colored and comfortable furniture inviting rest on every floor, exquisite paintings of Balinese traditions on the walls, a breeze following you on every step, ornate doors, sinks and corners of bedrooms pass until you reach the top, the sacred space, the Yoga studio. I’ve never practiced in such a place, nearly 360 degree views of lush, fertile grounds, temples, skyline and life surround you. At the top of the space Ganesha greets you, there to see you through any obstacles you may face, and behind him, a bed, should you merely want to lay and marvel at the magnificence that surrounding you.

After I picked my jaw up off the floor I settled into my room and without plans or people, I opted for a juice and swim. It was there I met Helen, Amanda, Kristy and Lee, some foundation 200 hour and elective yogis. I briefly traveled back to NYC, to my first TT, my nerves and excitement, all the unknown, and I smiled at the joy of getting to mix with both new and old teachers, all here to deepen their practice, branch out further into Yoga and see what Bali had in store for us.

We excitedly discussed what may be in store for our training and options for excursions on our days off, one of which was the following day. We decided on a breakfast overlooking Mount Batur, a dormant volcano surrounded by lush land and a calm, reflective lake. 7 of us left early Saturday morning to a day full of variety in sights and sounds, the beginning of our journey in and out.

On the way we stopped by a dazzling maze of rice fields unlike anything i’d ever seen. Nearly as lovely and wonderfully interesting was our next stop to a coffee plantation. We were given a tour, a maze of natural beauty in and of itself, and then provided with a free taste test of truly delectable coffees and teas. A delicacy in Bali is Luwak coffee, made from the coffee filled excrement of mongoose, no lie. I did not try the coffee, I don’t even like coffee not made from shit so my interest was low. Nonetheless the experience was great, glad we went.

Breakfast was spectacular, I barely remember the food because I couldn’t get over where I was, sitting on beautifully painted furniture, on a cliff, with views I’d never enjoyed before. We got to know each other, took photos, sat in awe and then left excited for our bike ride. We hopped on mountain bikes with our sweet guides, some on bikes, some in cars, and rode mostly downhill through villages, rice fields, jungles and temples. Again, I couldn’t believe my senses, was this real life?

After our ride, we stopped at the home of our guide for a traditional meal and tea. It was all so charming, full of love and ritual. It had me missing my family and yearning for tradition. The sight and smell of Hindu offerings surrounded us at every turn, their devotion and faith was humbling. As one who struggles with faith, especially dogmatic faith, I felt no cynicism in witnessing theirs, only respect and admiration. They are kind, loving people living with the simple moral code of karma: what you reap, you sew.

We returned to Soulshine and immediately jumped into some yoga clothes, walked the steps to our glorious space for our first practice. Tears welled as reality hit me again and again, I was so stoked to move and breathe consciously, with others, in Bali. We had a first meal together, almost all had arrived, and the eagerness to learn and grow set in. An early morning awaited us, and who knew what else.

Practicing during sunrise after some intense and focused breath work made for the most memorable yoga I’d ever encountered. Something just clicked right away and I was so thrilled this long awaited moment had finally arrived. After we had our first breakfast all together, fresh juice, the ripest fruit, homemade coconut yogurt and granola, and Balinese crepes awaited us. Pinch me again, the flavors in my mouth and scents in my nostrils were too much to bear. I struggled to accept the pleasure.

We dove right into learning, asana, pranayama, sutras, philosophy. I felt renewed putting on my student hat again. I love the discussions, the back and forth between teacher and pupil, feeling like a ripe peach. Lunch and dinner were spectacular, conversations and laughter flew, bonds began to form, goddess love was in the air. Our Mukti Yoga School teachers, Julie and Christy, created such an amazing space to be, to dive in, to share, to learn, explore and extract.

Our first venture into downtown Ubud was more sensory overload, this time in the form of man made chaos and beauty. It’s astonishing how you become almost desensitized to the architecture, temple after temple, shop after shop, no big deal. But it is a big deal, a big fucking awesome deal. We stopped into some yoga shops, I bought a mala, 108 white beads, the largest turquoise in the middle, below Ganesha rested, protecting me, encouraging me, urging me forward.

On Monday I had my first massage, an experience I shared with my new friend, a person I knew I’d like as soon as we met, fellow graduate yogi Jen. The uber sweet and friendly masseuses greeted us, handed us these strange throw away panties, baggy bloomers was what they were. Jen and I had a whale of a time putting on our new lingerie and then proceeded to enjoy one of the best massages either of us ever had. Not sure why I even wore those weird panties, Komang was all up in my butt regardless, my stark white crack exposed the entire time. I loved it. Again, I felt guilt, did I deserve such joy and pleasure? Why me?

A recurring theme in my practice and excursions was receiving, surrendering to joy and soaking up every second. I’d feel radiantly alive one minute but then sabotage my happiness the very next. On my journey from Chicago to LA I kept clutching and praying to my Lakshmi necklace, a gift from a dear friend and yogi in NYC. I dreamt and hoped for the same success I somehow fostered in Chicago to follow me to California. The unknown frightened me and in the throws of transition, I found my vulnerability disabling. So many of my students and friends told me over and over that I’d have no problem, LA would be lucky to have me, and other similarly encouraging and loving words. I appreciated them but negated them entirely by resisting, I couldn’t fully receive them.

On an exercise during our first week’s practice we were prompted to draw/write intentions and vision boards, working on manifesting personal and professional goals on and off the mat. I wrote Give and Be Open to Receiving. Upon pulling from a selection of goddess cards after a morning practice, I flipped over Abundantia, reminding me verbatim to “Be Open to Receiving.” The reflective and intense inward experience was throwing lessons at me already. I made the decision to let go and allow myself to truly embrace the fruits of this experience, knowing my goodness and dedication brought me here, and my devotion to yoga and a life of love would take me out.

On Tuesday afternoon, one of my beautiful fellow students, Erum and I went to visit a man named Kerga. He’s a well know physical healer in Ubud and after hearing about some of my fellow yogis experiences, I was quite curious what he’d have to say. He had a beautiful Balinese home with well cared for dogs (major sign of wealth here). Immediately upon meeting us he asked why we were there? We were so young and beautiful, he said, what can I do for you? Since we were mostly there out of sheer intrigue, we asked that he simply give us an overview and go from there.

I’ll leave Erum’s experience for her to share but for me, I merely sat grounded with my back to his knees as he sat in a chair. He engaged different pressure points all along my scalp, face, jaw, eyes, neck and ears. I had no reaction, which he led me to believe was a sign of good health. He then had me lie down as he took the stem end of a small wooden spoon and applied pressure to very specific parts of my left toes. One corresponds to your kidneys, one to your pancreas, one to your hormones, one to your mind/ psyche, one to your heart, etc. I’d heard and watched others shudder or even yell in pain after a fairly light push into a particular section, signifying an imbalance or issue in that area. For me, nothing. No pain, no sensation at all. Again he said, what can I do for you? You’re healthy in mind, body and heart, he said. Sweet. Thank you, Yoga.

We took a photo, he then proceeded to give me a quick and tight pinch on my ample bottom, asked if my husband would be jealous and then bid us a fond farewell. Not sure why but I wasn’t offended, I was amused. Dozens of other yogis had very uniquely powerful experiences with him, some deep physical and emotion issues they were working out, and he has been a catalyst for their healing. A short number of others had similar experiences to me, no issues, fortunately. So as I tend to be skeptical of these ventures, the more stories I heard, the more it legitimized him and my experience at his home. I feel good knowing that at least in Bali I am quite healthy;)

On wednesday I ventured into town to have dinner with one of my best friends and one of my favorite students from Chicago, an experience I still can’t believe. We ate at the modern and delicious Clear Cafe, shared our TT experiences and marveled at the fact that we were actually in Bali. Between meals, drinks and cabs I still managed to only spend under $20.

On Friday we practiced prenatal yoga, taught by one of our lovely teachers who herself had two kiddos and a lot of experience teaching pregnant women. Two of our yogis were with child, so in an effort to truly understand the challenges of practicing with a belly, and to show solidarity, we all placed pillows under our shirts. We had such a great practice together, stopping to ask questions, give insights and check for modifications. My body wants baby big time right now, regardless what my mind says or how my current life circumstances don’t support it, so it was a deeply emotional experience for me. I cried throughout the class, my fellow yogis’ kindness and support really helped, and made me excited for that time in my life, whenever it happens.

Immediately after the emotional practice a few of us set off into Ubud to check out the monkey forest. It was spectacular and bizarre to walk into this gorgeous, topical abyss with hundreds of monkeys just walking, climbing, playing, resting and cavorting all around you. No cages, no partitions, they are all up in your business. We were surrounded by spectacular trees, fountains, sculptures and primates! It somehow only confirmed my desire for children. Loved every second of it.

Saturday was our day off, and boy did we take advantage. 6 of us slept in until 715 (when you’ve been rising at 530, 715 is a real treat), gobbled up some fruit (the mango here is so good it makes me cry) and met our driver. We set off on a rafting adventure down the Ayung river. We walked down roughly 500 carved steps, into the jungle, out to the river to meet our guides and get cozy on our raft. Our guide was called Gudai (like how Aussies say good day), he gave us simple instructions (literally forward and stop) and we were off.

There were tons of people rafting on that beautiful day. We stared up in awe at the overwhelming beauty around us. A narrow weaving river path in front, surrounded by slate gray rock formations, dense trees, and thin waterfalls around every turn. Again, is this real life? We stopped for photo ops around some of the bigger falls, studied the intricate carvings in the rocks, astounded by the artistry and dedication, one of the few examples of humans adding beauty to natural existence, rather than taking away from it. The rapids were easy, random bouts of speed and challenge along the way, parts where we got to hang on and yell “weeee,” but mainly the experience served as a vessel to absorb our amazing surroundings. And amazing they were.

After 500 steps back up (want to strengthen and improve your calf muscles? Walk barefoot up many stairs, that’ll do it quick!), we ate lunch surrounded by more beauty and then proceeded to what I predicted would be the highlight of the day: an elephant safari! This is an experience I’m having difficulty articulating now, as if words somehow cheapen the experience, but I can say unequivocally it was one of the best days of my life. I love animals, I love nature, I love Bali, what’s not to love?

I was concerned going in it would feel like a zoo, and elements of it did. But we learned the elephants were all rescued from ivory hunters in Sumatra, and then saw and felt first hand their bond with the kind and loving Balinese people who worked with them, so the day echoed nothing but love. It was beautiful. I knew I’d get to see them roaming around, working with their caretakers, playing with their elephant friends, and I knew I could look forward to hoisting my tiny body onto their large backs and taking a slow ride around the grounds. What I didn’t realize was how much time we’d get to interact with them, feed them, touch them, listen to them.

Being hugged by an elephant was by far in my top favorite hugs of my life. I’ll never forget the soft, rubbery, sturdy feelings of their trunks; the sharp, spikey, orange whisps of hair; their warm, kind eyes; their smooth, hard tusks; their large, adorable, flat feet; their sense of humor; their tenderness; their playfulness; their gigantic, sticky tongues (yes, I touched their tongues!); and their ability to translate love from one being to another, no language needed. Beautious. The ride was fun, slow, fascinating (they eat 250 kilos a day! All veggies), and heart warming. I’ll never, ever forget it.

On the ride home I felt my heart softening more, the weight of the week hitting me, ready for more growth and further awakening in the weeks to come. The people, animals, foliage in Bali all live with a karmic ease. They are calmer, kinder, more loving than any beings I’ve ever known. I truly haven’t encountered an angry or cranky person yet. They live yoga seamlessly, they’ve taught me more than I could ever teach them. And the journey has only begun.

I’m grateful and eager to share more…please stay tuned 🙂

OM Swastyastu – Namaste in Balinese

Uncharted Territory

Today I embark on what has been a dream for a third of my life, to visit the majestic and ethereal land of Bali, the spiritually fertile land of exquisite beauty and enlightened souls. A surreal day this is, reality meeting years of fantasy. I still can’t wrap my brain or even my heart around it. It all exists on a different dimension somehow, one still just beyond my grasp. But in a matter of hours I will be in the midst of it, in it, actually living it. And I haven’t a clue how to handle myself. 

 

I felt a similar sensation when embarking on a three year journey in Italy back in 2007. Italian blood (and pasta) had long been in my veins, a remarkable trip already under my belt, the olive oil like language already singing in my head. There was only excitement for Italy, in many ways thinking I already knew what to expect. What three years brought was the repetitive life lesson that you never know what to expect, how something will feel, what life has to bring until the moment is upon you, until you’re in it. 

 

After teaching Yoga and other classes for a couple years in Sicily, I knew I’d need more training, more learning, more inspiration before I could successfully transition back to the United States. More uncharted territory was ahead: Chicago. After living in my dream place for three years, I opted to study more Yoga in another fantasy land of mine: New York City. There were nerves over being alone in the city without friends or family, taking on a challenging training in the States not knowing how my experience and practice would compare to others, and the slight worry of taking my skills into Chicago, even newer land to plow with even less people on my side. 

 

No three years of my life were more filled with intense emotions, personal evolution and lesson learning than my years in Chicago. I found my voice and purpose as a teacher and writer, I saw the good, bad and ugly of my being and slowly began to acknowledge what I wanted to change. Through the greatest friends and colleagues I’ve ever known, I began to implement those changes, I felt myself softening, actually living the wisdom I’d only intellectually understood. I simultaneously saw the massive potential for growth and improvement while accepting, and even liking, where I was. This is where the present moment, living for Love, and truly taking to heart the words of philosophers and spiritual teachers like Eckhart Tolle, Joseph Campbell and Osho came to be.

 

And then more change, more territory to map, more personal challenges to confront: Los Angeles. I left Chicago at the best and worst moments. I felt so in tune in my being as a teacher, I couldn’t have felt better about my group of friends and my amazing students, and I felt I navigated the city really well. I felt creatively fulfilled and also settled in my soul, never finished, but I liked where I was. I was excited for the new road ahead but admittedly resistant to leaving the beauty of what was. 

 

Again, the harsh truth of yogic wisdom rang in my ears. Everything and everyone is transient. Relationships begin and end, as does life, homes and cars come and go, all things large and small flow in and out of our lives, changing like the weather. To keep my sanity and keep drawing positive experiences into my life, I needed to embrace this, yield to the unpredictable flow of life. The answer is not to stay, to remain, to become rigid and avoidant. No. This was exact time to rip off the bandaid of the past and move forward vulnerable, ripe for new experiences to take hold in my being. 

 

On my journey out to Los Angeles, there was more uncharted territory to confront,  both in the land of this gigantic and glorious country (we drove through eight states, Iowa, Nebraska, Colorado, Arizona, and Utah being new to me), and in the mysterious corners of my psyche. I felt deep, aching loss leaving Chicago. Every street corner, bike path, spectacular piece of architecture triggered memories, happy, loving memories; memories I was afraid I could never recapture or recreate in my new life ahead. Wasted energy those fears are, born only from conjecture. Nonetheless, the first couple hours out of Illinois rang a melancholy tone. 

 

As the vast expanse of America’s heartland opened for me, I felt my heart slowly doing the same. I felt the excitement and the energy of infinite possibility that lay ahead, and without a home to sleep in or a job to support, I had to trust myself to handle the unknown, not run away from it, but see it head on and welcome whatever lessons life wanted to teach me. Like with Italy, I could’ve imagined for hours what Hollywood might be like, making assumptions about LA and California based on the same bullshit we all think before we truly know, but I’d made that mistake before. All I could do was remember Yoga and stay present, I would be absorbing it in due time. 

 

Now I sit in my lovely new home in LA, having a few classes and studios under my belt, no real jobs yet, a couple friends, and the looming presence of my 500 hour graduate teacher training just days away. Three week intensive, days beginning at 5 a.m. and ending at 10 p.m. A week in Thailand to celebrate my completion in Bali, the month ahead will be cleansing, awakening and renewing without a doubt. For 30 days, I leave behind sugar, meat, alcohol, marijuana (yes, I smoke and I enjoy the hell out of it, much better than the unfortunate poison that is alcohol) my loved ones, my comforts, and many other vices behind. 

 

I’m exceedingly fortunate to be traveling to places far from my home, far in distance and in experience. I know I will learn and I will be humbled, as I always am while traveling. I haven’t a clue what to expect and while my past led me to feelings of anxiety and discomfort over what I couldn’t control or predict; now, I feel so strong in what I can control, my breath, my mood, my smile, my gratitude. 

 

This week as I prepared to leave, I found myself working intensively on a pose I’d yet to achieve. More uncharted territory. Since day 1 of my practice and teacher training, I am reminded, my mat is a metaphor for my life. How do I handle fear? How do I handle failure (often times not well)? How do I see myself? What expectations am I carrying? Am I comparing myself to others? Does how I look matter more than how I feel (no!)? 

 

Nearly 11 years into my practice, I’ve experienced every emotion on and off my mat. As I practiced more consistently, my life outside my mat reflected a happier, calmer experience. Poses I thought I could never do became a reality. I began to feel strength building from the inside out, I knew where my body was in space, and more importantly, how pivotal my mind and heart were in having a successful, blissful experience. 

 

 

As I started to embrace what I could control, everything I couldn’t worried me less. Yoga was a mirror, showing me that life was a reflection of my inner experience, and I was the captain of those interior waters. The waters outside were unknown, not my business or within my power to affect. I must flow from the inside out. 

Today marks the beginning of another journey into uncharted territory…I hope you’ll join me on the ride and find your own inner power to withstand both clear and rough waters. Here we go!

 

What is You, Me and Yoga Makes 3?

My name is Danielle Marie Robinson. I am a woman living in Chicago, teaching Yoga, writing my experiences and insight, and loving my dogs, my man, my friends and my family. I love to laugh. I really love to eat. Mostly I love to love, and everything good loving entails. I’ve been profoundly impacted by the practice and teaching of Yoga, its influence has trickled down into every spoke of my life’s wheel. My closest and true connections are those gifted by Yoga, whether being the genuinely awe-inspiring students I’ve met, my humbling and passionate fellow teachers, those who inform and mentor me, my dearest friends and the many interesting human beings in between that share an interest and enthusiasm for living a joyful life. I am so fucking grateful every damn day. And that’s where You, Me and Yoga Makes 3 comes in. (side note: I do enjoy a good F bomb, it is only expressed in passion and love, never to harm or offend. let’s revolutionize our vocabulary!)

What began as a somewhat cutesy play on words has grown to significant depth and meaning in my life. The practice of Yoga is meant to be shared, exuded, reflected, absorbed, and continuously learned and taught. You teach via the way you engage with the world, in how you live your life. It has little to do with the roles of Teacher and Student, and more to do with human to human exchange, how we influence and engage with each other.

You inspire me. I aim to connect and inspire you. There is no me without you. There is no one to teach without open ears to listen, without an open mind to provoke, or an open heart to resonate. It is the same IAMness that Yoga has exposed within me that I am aware of because what I see in you. Just as love is a reflective experience, we need others to express it, we need a symbiotic exchange of positive emotion, teaching Yoga is the same. We need and benefit from each other. I learn from you, you learn from me. It’s such a fantastically fucking awesome relationship and the biggest meaning behind YMaYM3.

It is my biggest gift getting to know students, in their practice and often in their personal lives. These are sincerely wonderful human beings and they without a doubt keep the fire lit under my butt to keep learning, to keep improving, to hopefully keep inspiring them, to keep their interest and dedication to Yoga and themselves. To choose to be a teacher and writer requires the feedback and connection with others and I am so impassioned to share what I’ve learned with such intelligent, kind and open people. I learn from each class I teach and through each piece I write. Feedback is essential.

The number 3 is powerful, prime. It carries many meanings, shares a similar image with the OM (aum) symbol, and is reflective of our enduring cycles of life; a beginning, middle and end. Our breath is the simplest way to recognize and access this pervasive cycle, but at any given moment we feel the energy of starting, of persevering and of dissolving. Yoga restores equanimity as we constantly move through these cycles of life.

You, Me and Yoga Makes 3 is also a bizarro version of the holy trinity. You is my ego, Me is my essence, and Yoga is Yoga. This dynamic exists within me on an everyday basis. I constantly learn from my ego in how to further live from my essence. This has been my present and it will be my future.

I’m compelled as a champion for happiness to invest in my own peace and wellness so I can authentically pass along the knowledge and insight I glean along my way. I am human, fallible, constantly learning, but I aim to live what I’m teaching. I feel so eager and grateful to live each day. I feel better and better in my skin each day. So much of this sense of peace and bliss is thanks to Yoga, but along with crediting the inspiration, I have to credit the inspired: Me. This goes for you too. The better you are each day is due to how you apply what you learn into how you breathe and interact moment to moment. Yoga instills this amazing responsibility, we are in charge of our happiness, of how we perceive our external stimuli, recognizing that how we view the world is merely a mirrored reflection of how we see ourselves.

Together we must help each other feel grateful for all that we were and all that we are, while feeling optimistic and excited for who we’ll become. I believe so strongly in utilizing Yoga to empower each other to be our own best teachers, to carve our own unique paths to happiness, and to find collaborations with others to help encourage, uplift, inform and inspire the world, however big or small that world may be. We can begin to see “God” or “Yoga” in everyday life, in simply being, supremely present, elevated, high on Life. So, I thank You, Me and Yoga Makes 3. I need a balance of all to keep me evolving on this journey to an ecstatic, loving, travel filled life where everyday I laugh a lot, I eat well, I give good hugs, I move my body in a mindful way with others, and I breathe more conscious breaths than the day before.

Thank you. Seriously. Let’s keep doing what we’re doing. Stay connected. I’m fucking stoked!

Here’s to a life where we can keep opening our minds, bodies and hearts. Namaste! Below I’m pictured with my partner in Yogis Can Help, Veronica Rottman. We’re bringing Yoga and supplies to cancer patients in Cange, Haiti next month. We’re humbled, grateful and thrilled to bring our knowledge and compassion to more under-served around this beautiful planet.

I’m teaching with my NYC Sonic alumni Shuli Burke, now a thriving teacher in Boston, on a Travel Yogi Yoga and Surf retreat in El Salvador. It would mean a great deal if you’d celebrate life with us March 9-16, 2013. I do not regret one dollar I’ve spent on Yoga, travel, meals and laughter with good company, and with memorable experiences that leave me feeling deeply in love with life. Join us 🙂

I share some insight, humor and Yoga related posts on Facebook. Join the conversation at You, Me and Yoga Makes 3.

I tweet similar musings in 140 characters. Chew with me @mastic8onthis.

danieatslife is being worked on professionals that I am investing my hard-earned dollars from turning Yoga tricks in to take all my previous and current passions into a visually and user-friendly site to stay connected. Please stay tuned.

I’ve been writing almost weekly since April for MindBodyGreen. If you like anything you’ve read by me, please feel enthusiastically invited to read my variety of articles there! Thanks for reading and sharing.

Who I am becoming…

I typically write how I speak and therefore only have some trepidation in simply hitting “Publish” after transcribing my last meal. I took me a while to put myself out there in that way, which may seem strange or even ridiculous, but I’ve lived most of my life in fear of the unknown and of my own criticism. Through a series of events since turning 27 I’ve delved deeper into my form of self-expression, writing. I believe art is an act of courage and although what I’m writing may not seem like art to some, I feel a modicum of anxiety each time I release my words, and so maybe there is a courageous person hidden somewhere.

Sarcasm and humor predicates almost all conversations and experiences. It bleeds into my writing. I simply cannot help it. Deep down, there is a sweet, vulnerable woman who is hungry for life experiences and wants to love. Perhaps it’s easy to express that love for food. It has only ever loved me back, but in all sincerity it’s those I choose to share a table with that I want to love, outwardly. Behind the tough exterior and facetious defense lies a human being open to change, who yearns to let go, nut up, stop getting in their own way and welcome people and experiences into their life.

I’ve transitioned from first to third person, clearly in an act of defensiveness. I’m back. So there it is. I’m strong and smart and humorous and hungry. Mainly, I’m just a woman with 2.7 decades on Earth and a voracious need for self-acceptance. Absorbing art and sustenance is not enough. I must heed the advice I pass on to my yoga students, everything I need is already within me. I’m slowly beginning to bring a sincere, inner YES to whatever is and if I do not like it, I must be proactive in changing it or simply accept it as it is.

Negative patterns have created a fear of failure, leading to safe decisions and built-up fortresses. Starting this blog was a step in the right direction. I make zero dollars and get very little feedback but I love it. I cannot paint, draw, sculpt, or play an instrument, but I feel strong when doing this, in expressing what I love in my voice, in what I feel is a creative way and using this form to make others feel special. If I’ve written for you, or to you, similar to sharing food with you, then you’re alright with me. Thank you for being in my life and thank you for reading.

This wordy glimpse into the state of my evolution as it stands today is for me to let this burden of self-deprecation go. I occasionally write poetry, or discuss serious topics beyond the culinary variety and I’m utilizing this platform to be brave, to bring the artist within out, for better or worse. In that light, I’d like to share a poem I wrote the other night. It was after a particularly interesting and insightful day. I’m a bit of a thinker and I feel I’m blossoming into a doer, maybe even an artist.

Thank you, again. If you relate to being your own worst critic and getting in your own way, branch out today. Do something that excites/scares you; the relief in doing brings a rush of bliss inside. My aim and hope for myself and others is to be as fearless within as I am without. I’ll try lamb brain and jump out of an airplane but I can’t let anyone read a fricken poem? How much sense does that make? As if ridicule ever killed someone. Am I right, people? Don’t let me or you get away with cowardess, especially when the sacrifice is personal happiness and peace. You deserve it. So do I. Peace, love, laughs and hugs.

Old Soul in a New World

Nostalgic for a time I never knew
Never here
Or there
Pleading to belong

Longing for light
A breakthrough
An opening
Needing to feel alive

Hopeful but there’s doubt
Reckless confusion abound
Maybe I’ll find my place
The answer will reveal itself

I question worthiness
Contradictory needs for validation
The path is slowed, possibly destroyed
Reversed if the truth is found

Roots provide the way
And that route is knowing
Believing, thinking, never enough
Living in timelessness, loving beyond the rest