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One day or day one


The wishes of the soul are springing,
The deeds of the will are thriving,
The fruits of the life are maturing.
I feel my destiny,
My destiny finds me.
I feel my goals in life,
My goals in life are finding me.
My soul and the great World are one.
Life grows more radiant about me,
Life grows more arduous for me,
Life grows more abundant within me.
~ Rudolf Steiner

Hello World. It has been more than two years since I wrote here. I was away from this world wide web, deepening, quieting and tending to myself as life threw a deep curveball in my way.

In the years that flew by, I discovered I could hold both grief and joy, bitter and sweet, disappointment and delight. I could simultaneously traverse losses and gains, trials and triumphs, exertion and relaxation. With understanding and practice, I can choose to rest peacefully in duality. Because life is neither black nor white. It is a whole lot of gray. 

My go-to medicine are deep breaths, yoga, music, and stillness.

I discovered the art of deep rest so I can stay fully awake. I learned to play a musical instrument as I endeavor to fine-tune my inner instrument. I root deeper to rise higher.

I am held. We are held. Beyond measure. Beyond time and space. So much has changed, yet many things appear to remain the same. There is beauty in impermanence. Thank God for impermanence!

Going through an international certification in Rudolf Steiner Early Childhood Education is aligned with the life I choose: Conscious, impactful, soulful. My work with little children in a Waldorf school artfully and beautifully integrates all my tools and practices, gifts and talents. I feel completely in my element. Who and how I am on the yoga mat and in the classroom is coherent with who and how I am off the yoga mat and outside the classroom.

Life is strange and ironic. I did not plan. Or rather I could not plan. Faith is trusting Creator has a plan and we can only surrender. If change is the only constant, how can we invite more ease and peace into the process? Resilience is a practice, just like everything is a practice. How you do anything is how you do everything. How you move on the yoga mat will show you how you move off the yoga mat.

In the grand scheme of things, we are a mere speck of stardust in the cosmos. Yet every star aspires to radiate its brightest light. Isn’t it its right to shine? The questions are: How we are committing to living a life of consciousness. How we are showing up. How we can raise our frequency to match the vibration of the work Creator wants us to do.

We live in potent times. How fortuitous we are alive in this new Golden Age. How do we cultivate courage, strength and resilience to fulfill our destiny in the best possible ways? This practice begins in the early years.  You know what? I don’t have any magic to gift. I hold the children – and everyone – in a way they discover their own magic. You own your magic. The power is all yours.

If you are open to it, I like to work with you, one on one, to live your most radiant life. Together we deep dive with my tools and practices as a therapist of Inner Child Integration, yoga and energy medicine. This is a heartfelt invitation. Planet Earth is a much better place when we connect and thrive. Please reach out here.

Every moment is an opportunity to begin again, to exhale the old and inhale the new. Is this moment today, or will it begin one day?

 

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The space in between

I like to take my students through their breath before we tune in with Adi mantra, to the teacher before, with and within us.

We inhale trust, exhale fear. We inhale flow, exhale letting go of holding on. We exhale layers and layers of what does not serve us. We lengthen and lighten, root deeper and deeper.

The space in between, the yogis name it kumbhaka, is that precious pause between inhalation and exhalation.

It is the space of becoming. Everything that is yet to be. It is the space I inhabit at this very moment.

It is pregnant with possibilities, yet full of nothingness.

In the very present moment, I am witnessing the ebbing and flowing of my breath above my lips, observing the unfolding, and patterns and rhythms of months gone by.

The older I get, the more I value slow, conscious living. You know, pause, breathe deeply, and soften and ground. And taking time. Lots of time to connect to my inner stillness. As the months pass, the more I see the virtue in having the courage to leave behind safety and denial, to follow what lights me up, to love what I love.

This Super Full Moon in Libra and the beginning of an astrological year in Aries, both at zero degrees signifying a major reset, I ponder everything I let go off. I bow deeply to the many deaths that brought me to the fertile ground I am standing today. The seeds I have been planting are beginning to sprout.

The younger me thought being fiercely independent, resilient and strong willed was strength. As I am inching my way to 50, I realize strength is rooting more and more into myself, that I live deep and true, to the wind with certainties and niceties.

With this strength, I can begin again and again. I am alive. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Happy Super Full Moon and Spring Equinox!

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Develop your hidden greatness

 

Doing sadhana doesn’t make challenges disappear, it helps us to clarify, refine, and build the strength of the nervous system to welcome the challenges and see them as supportive aids in our health, happiness and prosperity. – Simrit Kaur

Day 90 of Develop Your Hidden Greatness Kriya

These words from Simrit Kaur sum up why I practice. Why I wake every damn morning at ungodly, or rather Godly hour to move and sit on the mat. This is one meditation that saw me through so much change.

Disillusions, rage, heartbreaks, illnesses, all the negativity life had to throw at me and one hell of an eclipse and retrogade season.

This is one meditation that saw me through breakthroughs, recalibrated my stories, and gifted me so much faith, insights and tenacity in the face of a sense of calamity.

The T mudra cutting through blocks. The Saturn finger imparting patience. The breath, long, deep and clarifying. The mantra fortifying like no other.

I practice every damn day not to be superhuman. Surrendering is a process. Letting go is a practice. Deep listening is a subtle art.

I practice to be more human, more humane. I practice to see the light in the cracks. Rain or shine, through sickness and health. Because life is just too darn hard if I don’t.

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Pavan guru

I have been immersing myself in the woods. Extraordinarily long walks in the jungle interspersed with pranayam breaks.

Long deep conscious breath, feeling into a quiet song only the forest knows how to sing.

Sitting through and with this pause invokes a tenderness that is part understanding and part allowing. Practicing yoga with the breath, off the mat, is a reminder of transience and transitions.

Night falls. Light will come again.

Simply inviting the next breath as I draw the last.

In the present, there is ease and steadiness.

No resistance.

No past and future.

Just here and now.

 

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What do you do when it feels so dark?

The last two weeks, I was in Bali, deepening my Kundalini yoga practice. There was something so enchanting about practicing to a view and sounds of verdant nature and witnessing the skies lighting up from pre-dawn hours.

I could wax lyrical about the incredible grace I experienced.

The truth is, I was also tending to the shadows that unceremonially surfaced from crevices tucked away from plain sight.

To say the least, January was a month of finding my feet after the end of a monumental year that just passed. Soulful questions led to uncomfortable, heartfelt answers.

I shed tears I never thought I had. I slept too much. My heart felt tender and raw. I was struggling to keep my head above stormy waters.

In the end, what saw me through the dark seas was yoga. A hell lot of Kundalini yoga.

During those weeks where I felt absolutely shattered, I poured myself into kriyas, or a themed set of exercises, to unearth and release pent-up emotions buried so deep within. I dug deep to strengthen and ground my entire being.

The Kundalini yoga technology of simultaneously using asana, pranayama, mantra and mudra to direct prana to where it should go very swiftly centered and empowered me.

I could neither rush time nor my healing, but the yoga practice that both fortifies and nourishes me, and fills my belly with fire, allows me to see the silver lining in the gray clouds.

The sense of renewal was so palpable I showed up for my mat, and ultimately for myself, despite the aches that were gnawing away at every part of me.

My dedicated [Kundalini] yoga practice gave me concrete tools to sit with the disquiet, to make peace with uncertainties.

If change is the only constant, then embracing the unknown is other surety.

In that vastness, I trusted that all that didn’t serve my highest good was being shown out of my life.

As I pick up the fragments and reshape the new me, I am aware hailstones and debilitating storms are mere reflections of the seasons and cycles of life.

Buds will always blossom and bloom again.

How we navigate wintry weather to welcome spring makes all the difference.