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Category Archives: spirituality

this is what democracy looks like | women’s march on Washington

I went to Washington D.C. I had no idea what to expect. I arrived on the day of the inauguration. I’d never seen so much red, white, and blue. People so proud of the President. Proud to be “deplorable.” And standing in the street, so many others: angry. I receive comments from time to time from people who say, “Amber, how can you practice so much meditation and yoga and still be so angry?”

To which I say: How can you *not* be?

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Anger is part of the stream of emotion. My meditation practice has taught me to *be* with all of it. My anger has morphed to compassion, mostly.

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I feel deeply in the marrow of my bones that women from all economic demographics should have access to screenings for cervical and breast cancer, that a quality free public education is important, that abortion should be an option, that Muslims – and all immigrants – are welcome in this country, that my wife deserves all of the rights that a husband would have, that clean water is important, that science is real.

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I have struggled to understand: how can you *not* believe in these fundamental rights for all beings?

And, I have realized that perhaps you feel just as righteously right in your beliefs as I do in mine: you’re as proud to be “deplorable” as I am to be “nasty.”

I think I’m starting to understand: you fear big government and/or high taxes and believe a businessman can turn our country around; you lost jobs to globalization or technology or both, and you’re angry because the American Dream you were promised has changed; you fear Islamic extremists and people who enter our country illegally; you are God fearing and do not believe babies should be aborted; somehow (though I still don’t quite understand how) you don’t believe in climate change; you can’t fathom why your health insurance premiums are so high and why you should subsidize healthcare for everyone else especially those who do not care for themselves; you served in the military where you were taught to serve and protect using semi-automatic weapons, and now the thought of some politician taking your right to arms away terrifies you; you believe marriage is between a man and a woman; you fear people who defy binary gender norms in bathrooms.

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Please write to me if I’m speaking out of turn. I can almost empathize, I think. I think I know how you feel.

And, while I can understand, I don’t agree.

I know, I know…you want us to give Trump a chance.

I’ll speak for a couple million people who marched on Saturday: we can’t. We can’t be quiet when equality and human rights are at stake. And, what we’d really like is for you to understand why your insistence that we stop talking about politics is part of the problem.

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Because, if you can afford to look the other way, your privilege is showing. And it’s hard for us to see our own privilege. (At least, I know it is for me.) When you choose to say nothing in the face of injustice, you feed it and condone it…you normalize hatred and inequality. And, it’s not normal. It’s not ok. So maybe instead of covering our ears and closing our eyes and defriending, unfollowing, and creating walls, we can build bridges with our dialogue.

It won’t be easy, I know. So much of what’s beautiful in my life today is the result of hard work, pain and suffering. This personal history as well as our nation’s history gives me hope. We are a resilient people. And progress is a slow march.

One of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed was these women who formed a barricade around the women who were protesting abortion. Their voices were heard. Peacefully. Nonviolently. I hope I can hold this image in my heart for the next four years and eternally.

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One of my dear friend’s mantra this year is: the whole world is my church. May we cease to dress fear and hatred up in religous clothing. May we remember that we belong to each other.
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To purchase one of these images, click here. 25% of proceeds benefit a local refugee who was in a car accident and is trying to feed her children.

light + laughter | Prana del Mar sunset shoot

All my favorite people laugh well. If I was to travel the world teaching yoga, I’d take this gorgeous woman with me so she’d laugh at my jokes. Her presence in class is always a gift. So 7 days with her on a fabulous yoga retreat – wow. I think God gives us people who help us along our collective and individual paths. I know she’s done that for me. She wanted to do a shoot for a big upcoming birthday.

“When was the last time you had your portrait taken?” I asked her as we traipsed out to the beach.

“Olan Mills,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable with anyone else,” she said.

You are worth celebrating. Who you are…what you do – it matters. You matter. Never will there be another soul exactly like you. You, make a difference in this world.

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how I’ve realized my childhood career dreams

My father sits across from me, only a gear shift away. We are outside of my grandmother’s apartment. I want to live in an apartment. Like the last complex in the bad neighborhood where she lived before. The one with the courtyard and the peacock and Myrtle. Myrtle is 90. I am just 4 years old, as this is one of my earliest childhood memories. I wonder if I’ll live to be 90. And she is tall, unlike my grandmother who’s crippled. Grandma walks with a crutch under one arm, and her fingers are tangled like tree limbs.

But, we have a house which is supposedly better somehow. We live next door to a bad man. He poisoned our puppy.  This apartment has a basketball court, and I’d like to practice, but Grandma says it’s unsafe to play by myself. She worries all the time and always locks the top lock. In the summer, she watches me and we watch The Young and the Restless by day and WWF by night. Sometimes she calls Myrtle to see if the wrestler’s blood is real or fake. “Do you think that’s ketchup?” And Nicky and Victor are getting divorced. I wonder if my parents will get divorced.

My father rewinds the cassette tape once again, and we sing, “What a Wonderful World.” And it still is. And he asks me what I want to be when I grow up. And I don’t really know. Probably not a pool man like him. (He’s hardly ever home.) “A singer!” I exclaim.

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Long ago, I cast that little girl out. At once, she is wise and innocent, confident and shy, sensitive and bold. She knows who she is and what she wants. She sees others’ fears as irrational and has not yet developed her own. She knows she’s here with a big voice and something special to share.

In many shamanic societies, if you came to a shaman or medicine person complaining of being disheartened, dispirited, or depressed, they would ask one of four questions:

When did you stop dancing?

When did you stop singing?

When did you stop being enchanted by stories?

When did you stop finding comfort in the sweet territory of silence?

Where we have stopped dancing, singing, being enchanted by stories, or finding comfort in silence is where we have experienced the loss of soul.

Dancing, singing, storytelling, and silence are the four universal healing salves.

On my recent retreat, we sang each day. Through the chakras we journeyed holding space for others’ joy and sorrow, and everything in between. And the sound moved all the emotion. Each time I’d lead the chanting, I felt so vulnerable. At one point, I admitted it – out loud. “I chant every day, but to lead chanting makes me feel vulnerable.”

Don’t.” One said.

She sings. Professionally. She’s given me voice lessons when I was losing my voice each week. Her single word of caution affirmed me.

Someone I trusted taught me to speak from somewhere deep inside of me. I’m grateful for the teaching. Yet, like so many other new things, I misunderstood. I thought deep inside me meant low and baritone. And speaking in that more “masculine” octave all of the time was causing me pain in my throat. I now understand that deep inside me is that young carefree girl who wanted to sing. And her voice was not deep nor low.

Through chanting, I’ve found a way to sing. And through chanting, I can sit afterward in the silence held by the Sacred. I am doing my best to bring the young girl inside of me home. I broke 2 malas this week. Some say this is good luck. Some say my intention has come to being. I know I cursed a phrase I’m not proud of when it happened – more vehemently the second time. Sometimes the Divine shows off.

What we say vibrates in the world. The sacred mantras vibrate at a frequency far higher than four-letter expletives.

I know how to connect to my lower consciousness. I can stare blindly at my phone and social media for a couple hours. That’s always a great start. Haha. Haha but it’s only funny because it’s true.

Chanting helps me access my higher consciousness. Thank you to the teachers – past and present, seen and unseen, the kind and even the unkind – who’ve helped me find this Way. And to the sweet, brave girl inside my heart, I bow. The way she sees the world – her curiosity and tenacity – continues to astound me. Sometimes life, should we choose to pay attention, is far more beautiful than we ever could have dreamed.

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photo by Susan Ross on the beach at Prana del Mar

light up your life retreat 1.0

you plan and you pray and you pray and you plan and sometimes an experience defies your wildest dreams. these women. this place. beautiful. sacred. all of it makes me weep. they showed up in the most magnificent ways  for one another. my heart is full. my life is changed. how this is my path, I’m unsure. grace. gratitude. joy beyond belief.
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Prana Del Mar

http://pranadelmar.com/

Thank You Again Music Release Party | Michael McGlone + Kristi & Darren Taylor

Michael McGlone is an actor, comedian, singer and songwriter. He met Kristi Taylor when he took her yoga class at a Yoga Journal Conference in NYC a while back. Somehow by a strange string of events that can only be described as divinely inspired, Michael, Kristi, and her husband, Darren, co-wrote a song together in the Taylor living room in January.

“Have you ever written a song before?” I asked her. I know Kristi as an acro queen /  stand up paddleboarding / glitter wearing / laughter inducing yoga teacher.

“No!” She said and then explained how the song just streamed through them. And, I nodded my head like a bobble head because I can so relate.

I know what it’s like to have something Larger and more Powerful than me stream from my heart and soul onto the page.

And I know what it’s like to have many passions – so many that you can’t just choose one.

And Michael described it best when he said about his many careers in the arts, “All of these things bring me joy.”

Their song – “Thank You Again” – is to be released today online. More than once, Michael moved the room to tears and laughter and every emotion in between.

What an honor to memorialize the magic of it all!

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what kind of yoga I teach

I get asked often what kind of yoga I teach. I don’t teach a brand. The “masters” I once followed keep proving how human and flawed they are – like me. It’s not that I expect them to be perfect. Really, I don’t. However, sometimes their flaws (i.e., sexual misconduct, emotional abuse, narcissism, etc.) taint the brand, and I can’t, in good faith say, “I teach X Yoga” any more.

And I’ve tired of teaching fast classes. The pace of life is too fast for my taste. I’m looking for ways to slow down and stay present and savor each moment. My yoga practice seemed a fine place to start. On a 68″ mat is always where I start to try new, scary things. And the way in which I teach yoga is a reflection of the way I practice yoga. Of course, I modify the practice to suit the bodies and souls I see before me. But, mostly, I teach “deliciously slow.”

And I know there are students who need to cross their cardio off during their yoga practice – to kill two workout birds with one stone. They just don’t have enough time, so they have to get both done as quickly and efficiently as possible. And I say this without judgment because I make it a practice never to judge a path that I used to find myself upon. There’s a ton of good yoga to go around this town. You can find those classes at every studio, every hour on the hour.

In years past, I might have revolted at who I’ve become as a teacher. My ego wouldn’t have liked me much.(My ego still doesn’t). But during those years, I didn’t live inside my body. I couldn’t teach what I didn’t know. 

And, if I’m to be honest, sometimes I still don’t live inside my body. I ignore the signals. Until my body says: no. While my mind is a sophisticated wordsmith, my body speaks mostly in single syllables.

No. No. No.

And after no: Slow. Slow. Slow.

I was flattened by a Mack Truck of an illness last week. And the truth is that for about a month leading up to that illness, I’d known something needed to give. I’d been meditating on how to create some changes. I’d been talking with my new less famous spiritual “masters,” my business advisers, my wife, my parents, my therapist.

Dana and I see this really no-nonsense therapist. This is not by my choice. But, there was a dark night of the soul back in January of 2014 when we looked at each other after I’d already separated our cd’s – the same cd’s I’d merged in the hopes that mixed hers and hers cd’s might serve as a binding legal contract for our commitment. We looked at each other and realized that we didn’t want to give up. I knew that every problem we had, I’d revisit in any future relationship. I could change partners. My same character defects would still follow me.

I won’t speak for her, here. I don’t really know what changed. But, she agreed to go to therapy…under the condition that she could pick the therapist.

No airy fairy metaphysical karmic nonsense. (We’d been to therapy together before).

And this new no-nonsense cut-to-the-chase save-your-drama-for-your-momma therapist has saved our relationship. Sure, we did the work, but we couldn’t have done it alone. She translated for us when we were speaking different languages.

And a couple weeks ago, she says to me, “Amber, what would it take for you to rethink your schedule?”

The question prompts me to spend 20 minutes – the equivalent of around $75 for those of you keeping score at home – attempting to answer that question. I can rationalize anything. It’s a gift left over from childhood. Most addicts, I find, have this talent/defect. And at the end of the session, after all of my bull shit, she says, “Interesting.”

“How?” I want to know. Sure, I love everything I do. It’s interesting work. But my schedule? Demanding, unmanageable, unsustainable. Insane. These are the words others have used to describe my schedule.

“Interesting that you’re in a career where you teach people to connect to themselves and you’re so disconnected from your own needs.”

All of this for $150 I give her. $160, actually. She doesn’t have change.

Thank you. See you next month, we say.

For a couple weeks, I brood over her comment. The truth in it. The irony. And meanwhile, I journal. I reflect. I realize that I’m exhausted, which is not news to anyone who lives with me. A few good naps might cure all that ails me.

I don’t think anyone, including me, was surprised when I lost my voice and began coughing up colors of the rainbow and aching with pain and sleeping for days at a time.

In his book Divine Therapy & Addiction, Thomas Keating writes about how in aviation history, planes had an automatic pilot which would signal with a beep into the pilot’s headphones when he was off course. To the right was one beep. To the left, two beeps. When he was dead center, no beeps. Silence.

I’ve found the same to be true in my own body. When I’m connected to my highest Self and wisdom, when I’m acting within what my intuition deems to be God’s will, I feel at peace. And, when I’m not, my body gives me signals. The sound starts as a series of intermittent beeps. And soon, my ears are ringing and I know something is not right.

How intelligent the body is, to notify us when something is amiss.

I’m grateful for the time I spent on the couch last week. A forced landing of sorts. A divinely ordained change of course.

And, now I’m back, and I’m realizing, yet again, that I don’t have to teach any sort of way. How liberating. How frightening.

A couple weeks ago, I asked a few regular students for a testimonial about my ability to teach inversions. I teach inversions every day. Slowly. Progressively. I’m not sure what I was looking for other than something to put on a flyer. And one replied with something that’s stuck with me:

“As you probably know, I still can’t kick up into handstand. It’s happened maybe 2 or 3 times in the last year.  This is more of a reflection of my fear than your teaching skills. However, if I’m being honest, the allure of a handstand pales in comparison to what you have taught me about love, forgiveness, compassion, peace, balance, strength, and patience. <3

Sorry if this wasn’t what you were looking for, but it’s the truth.”

Of all the testimonials I received, hers is ironically the only one I’ve used. Though handstand hasn’t quite happened in the physical form yet, she’s nailed it as far as I’m concerned.  

Spiritual principles are what I hope I embody and emit and, in some way, transmit through osmosis to the beautiful people whose mats find my classes.  I’m going to teach what I need to learn. And right now, I need to learn a second speed: slow. Ergo, my classes: deliciously slow. 

Headshot below captured by my beloved after she told me to think of the time when Cash Diehl photobombed my camel pose (also pictured below).

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a passionate story

One night this week, I didn’t sleep. I’d been to the doctor that day and received some medication for an upper respiratory infection. And, I am really sensitive to drugs these days. So, I embraced the time awake. Reading. Writing. Editing photos. Watching documentaries on Netflix. And before the day break, I decided to go scope out a spot for a sunrise shoot I have scheduled in the coming week. Because my self-dedicated and ambitious spouse had already left for the gym, I took the dog with me.

As we loaded the car, the rain fell steady on the pavement. And so I knew there would be no sunrise. Well, there would be. The sun rises every day. But the clouds and rain would leave it concealed. I’d have to rely on a compass and my imagination to see where the sunrise might take place.

Occasionally, we parked at gates and took 90 steps – fewer for Cash Diehl’s long strides – to plant our feet on what appeared higher ground. For about 30 minutes we drove. At some point I found myself driving on a main street where I saw a jogger out of the corner of my eye. She wore black runners shorts and a neon green rain jacket. Had it not been for her jacket that announced her presence at the the crosswalk long before she set foot in the street, I might not have seen her.

And as she jogged across the bridge of my Jeep, I thought with some distinction, “She must be crazy.” To run in this rain like this, she must be crazy?! And the thought occurred to me that though the Cowtown Marathon just occurred, she might still be training for the next race. An amateur she was not.

And, then, it hit me: passion. She was running – rain or shine, dawn or dusk. Because running was her passion.

And I was driving around scouting locations – in the dark, recovering from illness, at a severe lack of rest – for my latest art escapade. Because art is my passion.

By the time the woman had made it across the street – which was mere seconds due to her skilled gait – I realized the essence of every spiritual teaching: the other person is you.

She is I. I am she. Both possessed with a fair degree of crazy – a little spark of madness…the Divine substance which causes our hearts to beat and our hair to grow. Both dedicated to our respective passions.

The word passion connotes two things for me:

  1. a thing that rouses enthusiasm. Writing, yoga, nature, taking portraits – these activities rouse enthusiasm for me. Enthusiasm stems from the Latin root, enthousiasmos, or “possessed by a god.” Enthusiasm means you’ve got the Spirit inside of you. You feel It.
  2. suffering. Passion takes its origins from the Greek or Latin word, passio, which at one time meant “suffering.” Later it evolved to mean a strong emotional desire.

When I am living my life from a place of passion, I experience a connection to Spirit that once completely eluded me. Connection to Spirit, I’ve realized is not static. Feeling it hungover from steroids and a lack of sleep is more challenging than it is on a day when I feel vibrant and at ease.

And when I am living my life from a place of passion, inevitably I still experience suffering. Now let me just say that, in a literal sense, I rarely run – unless someone’s chasing me…or I’m paying the trainer to make me. Figuratively, however, over the past five years as an entrepreneur and artist chasing my dreams, I’ve run many a rainy day. Some days I wanted to run. Some days I didn’t. Dread all too often places a stumbling block before my quick feet.

I was supposed to present at a middle school career day this week. “What should I tell them?” I had scoffed when they initially asked me. I make it a point not to give advice. I mean, quitting my day job to teach yoga and take photographs has worked out for me. But, I had help. Financial. Emotional. Spiritual. I didn’t have other mouths to feed. I wouldn’t suggest my path to everyone. And I think of all of those young kids who want to be famous athletes. I was once one. But, hello, I’m 5’3″. When I get off the plane to teach an out of town workshop, it never fails, the studio liaison says, “I thought you’d be bigger.” Some dreams we must let die. And even still, passion – more passion, other passion, better passion – remains. 

“Follow your passion?” Yes. That’s what I would tell them, if I had a voice to speak. I’d say: Find what you’re crazy about. And follow it. Follow your passion like your life depends on it. Even when you’re sick. Even when you’re tired. When it’s raining. When you’re crying. When you feel as though what you’re doing is a waste of time and it would be much easier to play it safe – especially then – follow your passion. Your soul did not incarnate for any other reason than to follow your passion and encourage others to do the same. And, by the same token, give up the stuff which doesn’t bring you closer to your passion. “Stuff” might include self-limiting beliefs, negative thought patterns, self-destructive behaviors, substances, and people. 

“But I don’t have a passion,” I can hear the choir sing. “I don’t know what it is.” People write to me all of the time about this.

Not to worry. Immerse yourself in serving others. Even if you don’t find your passion, you’ll forget to pity yourself for not having any passion. You’ll feel fulfilled. And connected to Spirit. So you arrive at the same destination with different transportation. You can drive. You can run…walk…crawl. The transportation is always up to you. But whatever path you choose, take it enthusiastically.

why I use chanting in meditation | live your truth malas

People ask me almost daily if I design jewelry. Honestly, I’ve never had the aspiration. People ask me because every single day, I’m adorned in at least one mala / bracelet / earring / crystal from Live Your Truth Malas. I use a mala every day in my chanting practice. And I photograph these malas and inevitably one always “calls to me” as the very first one pictured did last year. For my wedding, I had the multi-talented momma / yoga goddess / studio owner / effortless fashionista / friend / fellow Buddhist soul, Lauren Dashiell Wessinger, create one for me to wear through the weekend to remind me to stay where my hands and feet were. That one is unpictured but absolutely gorgeous.

A mala has 108 beads and is used in Japa Meditation where you chant a mantra 108 times. It is one of my favorite meditations – often the only one that truly quiets my mind. There are days when I simply cannot sit still without twitching and itching and climbing out of the present moment to plan my busy day. And these are the moments when I know I need the meditation most. So, I started chanting. 108 times with my middle finger and thumb stringing each bead toward my heart. And then sitting for several minutes in the silence.

After you chant the Gayatri mantra (seen below + hear it here) 108 times,

om bhūr bhuvaḥ svaḥ

tát savitúr váreṇ(i)yaṃ

bhárgo devásya dhīmahi

dhíyo yó naḥ prachodáyāt

there is a deafening and beautiful silence that only the Divine can break. I’ve not been so consistent with the aforementioned Gayatri mantra because it takes around 45 minutes to chant. However, “Oṃ Maṇi Padme Hūṃ” for compassion and “Om Shrim Maha Lakshmiyei Swaha” for abundance take around 8 mintues. Both of these mantras I chanted (separately) for 40 days straight. I chanted Lakshmiyei leading up to SoulSpace Yoga Community’s opening when I knew I needed a change. I didn’t have enough time, strength, money, etc. Lakshmi changed me daily. And, om mani padme hum helped me in the realm of forgiveness like no therapist ever could.

People say, “Why chant sanskrit?”

I’m sure there are a number of reasons but for me there are two main reasons:

  1. Sanskrit vibrates at a beautiful frequency that actually raises my own vibration. it’s not unlike the way the National Anthem feels or a beautiful rendition of Silent Night or Ave Maria. The words move me beyond the translation.
  2. My mind cannot compete with sanskrit. When I chant “I am peace” more stuff slips in between. I meditate to calm the bad neighborhood that is my mind. I don’t go in alone. I always take a mantra or a spiritual friend to help me hash through the stuff inside there.

You can find Live Your Truth Malas on Instagram and purchase these beauties at the website here.

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live your truth malas

how yoga and meditation have helped me deal with anger

When I think about why I teach yoga, it’s not to teach people to perfect their handstands. It’s not to learn how to lengthen the spine in trikonasana. I find in the “real” world – whatever that means – nobody cares how good your vashistasana…or any pose, for that matter…is. It’s not to say that I don’t teach alignment…I do – perhaps more than most…because I want my students to be safe. But I recognize the pose as secondary.

Because I believe what matters is how we show up in the world. What happens on my mat is preparation for the events that play out with less certainty on my life mat.

Last week I was returning to the studio after a couple in-home private sessions. The Kundalini mantras were playing. When I put down the sugar, I turned up the Kundalini mantras. Even in the chanting, the hamster wheels were turning because I’m awaiting my taxes and in the midst of a couple changes – I’m just not sure what they are quite yet. And, let me just be the first to admit that I’ll never win an award for driver of the year. I had three car accidents last year. Only one was my fault. But, still, I’ve had some collisions.

Suddenly, a man in a Subaru came up next to me and rolled down his window to curse me out. He had a “Feel the Bern” bumpersticker. I’d just had a conversation with Arthur, my accountant and most dedicated yoga student, about politics – over restorative yoga…which I don’t recommend.

I don’t know what I did, if anything, to provoke this man. I didn’t roll my window down to reason with him. I did, however, feel triggered with adrenaline – what I logically know as fight or flight…or (the lesser known) freeze. He swerved in front of me and hit the brakes hard. I went around him and turned the corner early to return to the studio on a back road. He followed and when we met again, he wielded his fist wildly. And, finally, he turned the corner in haste.

Had this same experience happened several years ago instead of last week, here’s how the story would have likely ended: I’d have pulled my car over and told him what a piece of shit he was … (Fight) … All gender and size differences aside, I would have come out of my car swinging and might not have stopped until he was humiliated or I was bloodied – whichever came first. And I would’ve gotten shitfaced afterward with my drug of choice in a futile attempt expel the experience… (Flight)…Then I’d have called everyone I know and built a story around how fucked up humanity was and is and always will be… (Freeze) … And I’d have carried the energy and resentment acquired from that experience around for years to come.

Instead, I sat in the studio parking lot to eat my late lunch. Snatam Kaur kept singing. I said a prayer for the man and for myself. I put my feet on the earth and discharged the energy of the experience from my cell tissue. The moment passed as quickly as it came. Life went on.

Why would I pray for him? I can hear my reluctant-to-soften-quick-to-anger students ask me. Because I don’t ever know what someone else is battling. And because I know what it’s like to harbor the sort of hatred and anger he exhibited toward me, how much pain and fear he lives in. And because I believe the light I find in others is a reflection of the light that’s found within. And so, for better or worse, the converse is true too. In others’ shadow behaviors, I see my own. It famous Kundalini teacher, Yoga Bhajan, who said, “Recognize that the other person is you.”

There is much in this world over which I’m powerless to change. Our political candidates for starters. However, I’m committed not to add to the aggression on the planet. This is what a regular meditation practice has done for me. This is the yoga, which is far more important than any asana.

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straight outta meditation

My morning meditation is the time when I get real with my Self. I once thought meditation was all about returning to the breath. “When a thought arises, return to the breath.” This is a great strategy for mindfulness. However, after working with Gabrielle Douglas in meditation over the past month I’ve realized that I am ready to go deeper. “Allow yourself to think the nagging thought,” she’s encouraged. and in doing so, I’ve realized how many of my thoughts are (still) rooted in fear. fear blocks us from our True nature, which I believe to be Love. and the only way to overcome fear, I feel, is to go in and touch it – with breath, with compassion, and with confidence that it’s likely not real. this morning, I realized it was February 22nd, that we’re in the 8th week of the new year, that I’m not gaining much traction in my writing and that I’ve lost the balance in a few realms. And, I’ve got legitimate and noble reasons, of course.

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According to the Handel Group, there are 3 voices of self-sabotage: the weather reporter, the inner brat, and the chicken. The weather reporter objectively reports a sad state of affairs as a meteorologist does the weather. “You are spending 42 hours each week teaching yoga or holding a camera, just slightly below average this time of year. A change is not forecasted. If you’re looking to find time for writing in this season of your life, don’t expect to find it in the morning. You are not a morning person. Never have been, never will be.” The inner brat says, “I’m too tired to write…I can’t get up any earlier than 6 am…I’m working so hard…and I deserve my sleep.” The chicken says, “I’m afraid. I’m afraid to write. I’m afraid to publish anything longer than a Facebook status.”

And while the weather reporter and the inner brat have some merit, it’s the chicken who keeps clucking me over. Every. Single. Time.

But the thing is, there’s another voice within each of us. It’s the voice of love. And s/he might not be as loud as the chicken, as ostentatious as the bratty kid, or as matter-of-fact as the weather man. But s/he’s Real. Velveteen Rabbit real. And the only way I get to Real is through meditation. Because routine meditation is the only practice I’ve found that quiets the other three down. If you’re looking to begin a meditation practice or to take your established sitting practice to the next level, join us for SoulSit, a series in meditation Tuesday’s at noon in March at SoulSpace Yoga Community. 

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