The Worst Thing

This October, in the span of three weeks, my mother got diagnosed with breast cancer and my grandmother died. For a moment there, I fell down a deep well, the light becoming smaller and smaller in the distance.

It took these pieces of news for me to finally understand the familiar adages "be grateful for what you have," "live each day like it was your last," and, as I'd ride my bike home from work with tears in my eyes after learning about the imminent mastectomy, "you never know what other people are going through."

I'd of course heard these platitudes hundreds, if not thousands of times before. I am, after all, in the business of self help, the land where little sayings like these abound endlessly-but it took this experience of having the wind knocked out of my sails to grok these dichos down in my bones. Every time someone cut me off on my bicycle or bumped into me on the subway, where my response typically would be more of the silent rage variety, now, there I was bursting into tears: maybe this person is an asshole because their mother has cancer!

Cancer is the worst thing.

When I found out about my mom, I cleared my afternoon, pulled the blinds, and watched reality TV. I ate some ice cream. And cried. Wailed, actually. Just that morning I wrote in my journal, and I quote: "I'm so lucky there aren't any crazy illnesses in my family." So I guess it was appropriate to get a little love (?) slap from the Universe.

I told myself I would give myself the afternoon to wallow. The thoughts in my head were insane! Between projecting morbid worst case scenarios out into the future, and whining about my poor luck (how could something like this happen to MEEEEEE!?!?!?!?), I threw myself a pretty amazing pity party. I realized this was a familiar space--anxious, morbid, wallowing, small--and while this experience was the worst thing, it was comfortable. I'd been there before. I've disappeared countless times, alienated myself from reality more times than I can count. This time was different, because I knew I had to be stronger for someone else, in a new way. I got present to how much I still, even at 29 years old, still depend on my mom. And I knew that I could not effectively support and take care of her if I was still in that smelly old pity well.

Here is what I learned (am learning):

1. In those moments when all I want to do is hole up and hide, the best thing I can do is pick up the phone, call someone, and authentically share what is going on with me. In this space of connection, something new always opens up, and I'm left with a shifted perspective. I am not alone.

2. It's possible to experience something really shitty and heavy and awful and not end up at the bottom of the sad well. I could deal with the experience with a sense of lightness. And I don't mean a cheesy "love and light!" borderline denial of reality--but a spaciousness, an expansion that I'd never known before. Instead of following the familiar patterns, or running from sensation, it really helped to let whatever came up simply be without making it mean anything, good or bad. When I stayed connected to a sense of lightness, I found more ways of being open up almost effortlessly. I didn't lose myself.

3. This is LIFE! Beautiful things happen: babies are born, epic sunsets happen, love grows, opportunities arise, flowers bloom and milestones are marked; and all the while, people grow old and die, cells mutate for no good reason, jobs are lost, folks get sick. To deny any part of this, good or bad, is simply foolish. As much as I wanted (still want) to run away from this news, to do so would be to run away from life. And that is the last thing I want to do.

I'm sure there are more things I will probably add to this list eventually--but these are the top three that have most impacted the last two months. My tendency if I'm not incredibly vigilant every day is to isolate and disappear--something I'm committed to transforming, one day at a time.

My friends and family have been a great help in making this transformation possible-not only in allowing me to share myself, but also in sharing with me what is currently true for them. Another is writing this post: organizing my thoughts, taking stock of all the 'stuff' so that I may actually learn something. My hope is that these words might be of benefit for you.

So today! these here last few weeks of this slippery snake of a year, I am committed to turning inward, writing as much as possible, cooking lots of yummy food, and busting out the pastels.

I'll keep y'all posted about my mom :) 

I took my muse out for a walk yesterday on Mars:

Como se hace: Picadillo (Traditional Cuban Recipe)

PICADILLO

I'm excited to share with you the recipe for Picadillo, a traditional Cuban meal that was my favorite dish growing up. It is versatile, and difficult to mess up, so I encourage even you newer cooks out there to give it a go. Traditionally, it is served over rice, but I make a ton and sometimes mix it in with an egg and avocado for a hearty breakfast, or throw it into some corn tortillas for tacos. This is the recipe I use, and feel free to get creative if there is a certain spice you really like, or another vegetable you would like to add (hopefully I'm not being too sacrilegious here).

Cebolla

I always make a large batch so that it lasts a few days worth of meals. So; if you don't want to make a full two pounds of this, buy less beef and halve the recipe. This is an awesome dish if you are on a budget, because the ingredients are cheap and a little goes a long way. It's also quick to make, unless you don't have a food processor, in which case you'll be a-choppin for a while.

Ingredients:

• 2 pounds grass fed/finished ground beef
• 1 large yellow onion, finely chopped
• 1 large green bell pepper, finely chopped
• 4-6 cloves of garlic, minced (I LOVE GARLIC)
• 2 small tomatoes or one large one, chopped
• 1 small potato, peeled and cut into tiny cubes
• 1 teaspoon of capers
• 2 tablespoons Cumin
• 1 tablespoon Oregano
• Salt
• Pepper
• Butter, or coconut oil
• White rice. We use Mahatma (you can find this anywhere).

Directions:

1. Grab a large skillet and heat up enough butter or coconut oil to cover the bottom of the pan
2. Add the onions and green bell pepper. Saute on medium heat until it softens and the onions get translucent.
3. Turn the heat down to it's lowest setting. Add the garlic and stir.
4. Stir in the tomatoes. 
5. Add the spices. Now you have the sofrito, which is the base for many Cuban dishes.
6. Now it's time to add the beef. Mix the beef into the sofrito, cover the pan, and let simmer on medium heat for 10 minutes. 
7. Before the beef is fully cooked, stir in the potatoes, cover the pan, and let simmer until the beef is completely cooked. If you add the potatoes too early, the will get soggy, so make sure that's your final step.
8. While your beef is cooking, make the rice by following the instructions on the bag. 
9. Serve the picadillo over rice and be happy. If you really want to get authentic, pair with a simple side salad and fried or sauteed plantains. Best served around at a table full of friends and plenty of laughter, stories, and good wine. ALABAO! Que disfruten~

Thinking about Yoga Teacher Training? Read this first

It's late summer, and I've been seeing lots and lots of advertisements for Fall 200 hour Yoga Teacher Trainings. Maybe you are considering signing up for one. I know the feeling--you've been practicing yoga for a while, maybe it's even changed your life, and now you want to bump your commitment up a notch. The time feels right to commit and immerse yourself more than is possible in 90 minute classes and the occasional workshop, and teacher training appears to be the logical next step. Maybe for you, it is! I'll be the first to admit TT was one of the most growth filled, healing, positive experiences of my life. I just wish I'd been prepared for what happened after I got my certificate. If you don't ever have the intention of actually teaching, you can probably skip over this post; however, if you are like me and your yoga-colored glasses are at a nice day-glo shade of rose, you might want to take heed.

Here is my list of things I wish I'd known when I made the choice to become a yoga teacher, as well as a few tips if you are still gung ho:

1. Have some experience practicing yoga (pro tip: yoga is more than asana). I thought this was obvious, and then recently attended an informational meeting for a training I am considering. A person signed up who had only taken a handful of classes. Again--if you are taking the training with no intention to teach right away, this doesn't apply to you. All I know is this: $18 is a lot of money to spend on a drop-in class, so you can bet I'm going to make sure I'm getting my money's worth.
2. Find a teacher you actually like and respect, and who has a life outside of yoga. Ideally, this teacher shows you their faults every now and again, and can actually speak from experience. Even more importantly, this person can own up when they make a mistake. Be very weary of falling prey to a cult of personality or lifting someone onto a pedestal: you will eventually be disappointed. Just because someone can stand on their hands for ten minutes or throw their leg behind their head like it ain't no thang does not actually mean anything other than that they are flexible.
3. Perhaps you've found *your* teacher and they start talking about the upcoming training. Let's incorporate some critical thinking, yes? YTT is yoga teachers' bread and butter. I'd be willing to wager that often, the instructors are not actually invested in whether or not you ever become a teacher. This is another reason it is important to have an actual relationship with a teacher before you sign up. You want to study with someone who sees the value you will bring as a teacher and  uncover that value with the proper tools. Otherwise you run the risk of being a walking dollar sign.
4. Yoga is many things; if you choose to teach, one of the things yoga will become is business. Find out how much of the training is devoted to teaching you how to navigate the business aspect of teaching yoga. There is a lot more to teaching yoga for a living than waltzing in and teaching class a few times per week. Which leads me to my next tip:
5. Make sure there are systems in place to support new teachers. That might be mentoring with an experienced teacher. It might mean opportunities to practice-teach and get feedback.  If there is no indication that you will be supported after you graduate, I say run. 
6. Don't quit your day job. Ever. I hate to break it to you, but you probably won't start teaching right away. Scratch that-you DEFINITELY won't start teaching right away. The day might come where you are able to survive off teaching, but until that happens you will probably need something at least part time to cover your butt. The burrito budget only goes so far before you start fantasizing about the stability of your previous cubicle life.
7. When you do start teaching, don't get attached to teaching at a studio. Volunteer. Teach at gyms. Grow your skill in an environment where the expectations are lower and you can close the gap on the learning curve without any unnecessary pressure. 
8. Yoga teachers are not doctors, nutritionists, therapists, etc. I repeat, THINK CRITICALLY. If your yoga teacher says something weird that raises those little hairs on the back of your neck or makes you feel queasy in your gut, LISTEN to those messages. 
9. Supplement your knowledge. 200 hours does not make you an expert at anything. Read, take trainings and workshops across different disciplines, and be curious about different methods outside your chosen style of yoga. 
10. Most importantly! Feed your own practice. Continue to study and learn. Get support if you feel stuck. So many teachers start teaching, and stop practicing. Now that you are teaching, people will look to you as a source of knowledge and it's important that you stay connected to your center. Otherwise, you will forget why you ever set out to teach in the first place, or worse, you'll let it go to your head.

If you are SERIOUS about becoming a yoga teacher, please do yourself a favor and approach finding a teacher training the way you would approach going to graduate school. Would you enroll at a university where all the teachers had nothing but weekend certifications? Didn't think so. Do your research. Read testimonials--and not just the ones the studio uses to market the damn thing.  Enjoy the experience, and, keep your feet on the earth. I learned the hard way, so hopefully you won't have to.

What I learned from The August Break

For the entire month of August I participated in the August Break, a daily photography project hosted by Susanna Conway, where we took a photo each day based off a one or two word prompt. I jumped in last minute and had a fantastic time engaging with my surroundings in a completely new way. Here are some of the interesting insights I had along the way:

• The way I do one thing is the way I do everything. At the beginning of the month, I felt excitement and motivation, the project was on my mind at the start of every day, and I was actively looking ahead and searching my environments for inspiration. I noticed my thrill waned by the end of the third and beginning of the fourth week, to the point that I even posted a day late a couple times, or didn't even think about or look at the prompt until the sun had gone down and I didn't have much time left, or even posted photos I'd taken months ago but still fit the parameters. This is how I typically approach every new undertaking in my life: I start out strong, unwavering in my commitment; and then the halfway point passes and my motivation drops significantly. It made me see that even for things that I am choosing to do, and that light me up, I need to find a way to stay connected lest my creative juices become one more thing to muscle through or cross off the to-do list.
• I had a ton of fun. Ever since I've started giving myself more permission to explore my creative side, I have been enjoying my life so much more. From an outsiders' perspective, nothing has changed; I still have my routines, and my day job; I still have to cook all the food and wash all the dishes and clean all the clothes at the laundromat; I'm still on a tight budget and have to be very deliberate with my purchases; yet incorporating creative practices throughout my day has brought so much joy to all of that. It's fun to approach the mundane with fresh eyes; to create the extraordinary within the structure of everyday ordinary living.
• The work doesn't have to be "perfect" for me to share it. I can share things I create without being an expert, without knowing everything (in this case, about photography), without it even being good, at all--that's not really the point. Right now, the point is self expression; sharing my point of view; finding new ways to deliver my message with fresh eyes and perspective. This knowledge inspires me to be curious about other modes of self expression, something I probably would not have considered before. I'm thinking ceramics.

Here's a glimpse from tonight's sunset--this magical magical time in Northern California, where we finally get proper summer, just as Autumn is about to start. Incredible:

The August Break Day 31: Smile

Here I am, 31 days later! August 1st feels like a lifetime ago...

Stay tuned for what I learned from this project.

Thank you everyone for keeping up with me this past month! I'll see you next year :)

The August Break Day 30: Sign

At Shotwell's, where Dave and I met almost three years ago:

The August Break Day 29: Your (My) Fave Thing

My fave thing? There are a couple of practices I keep every day that keep my feet on the ground. The first are morning pages, which you can read about here; the second is a movement practice, which typically means rolling out my mat and practicing yoga (although, more recently, I've incorporated dance to the mix).

Settling in at Laughing Lotus

These are my favorite things--the moments in the day when I get to be with myself. After so many years spent spinning my energy outward, this daily reconnecting to my guts is my biggest priority. As a person who tends toward extremes, I have to cultivate moderation like my life depended on it--which, in some ways, it absolutely does.

Here's an extra photo from yesterday:

August Break Day 28: Smell

Mas comida Cubana:

Arroz con pollo, ensalada, tostones

The August Break Day 27: Number

I danced ballet from age 3 or 4 until I was 15. At about 12 or so, I started dancing on pointe and for years after I stopped my toes were crumpled together. Ten plus years of yoga, and they are all nice and spread out again:

10 little yogi toes. 

The August Break Day 26: Yes

I looked forward to today's prompt for a few days, and then when the time came I felt stumped. "Yes?" How does one capture yes? I kept looking around for what physical things in my life or environment symbolized this. I thought of posting a photo of Dave, and how I say "yes" to our commitment every day, but I didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea (that I was saying yes to a certain type of question). So I am posting my business cards, to symbolize the greater and ongoing YES of my current life, that being, the YES of entrepreneurship, of being my own boss, of stepping fully into my place as business owner. It's exciting, exhilarating, and a great challenge all at the same time; I am practicing gratitude at every moment, even the overwhelming ones.

The August Break Day 25: Sunday Morning

Sunday morning view out of my friend Rebecca's third floor apartment on Dolores street. This is such a quintessentially Mission scene: beautiful Victorian homes, the fog barely poking out over Twin Peaks, and, if you squint, the J Muni line cruising south.

The August Break Day 24: Hear

Dave and I met up with some friends at the 20th Street Block Party. I managed not to have a panic attack while being surrounded by so many people (I'm only slightly exagerrating) and we found a nice spot stage right to watch Two Gallants, who I'd never heard of but ended up liking a lot. Here they are covering Nirvana's "Aneurism." 

The August Break Day 23: Sacred

Here you see an image of my home altar. I've kept one for the past 5 or 6 years. I guess I need an entire arsenal of goddesses to watch over me: You see Kali, Durga, Frida Kahlo, The Virgin of Guadalupe, and a photo of my mom when she was 19. There's Royal Violets perfume, used by all the women on my mom's side of the family; various shells (and one vial of sand) from various oceans and seas all around the world; found hawk feathers; tarot cards; stones; messages from loved ones; a wallet sized photo of myself as a baby...little reminders from all of my lives, past, present, and future.

The August Break Day 22: Midday

I set an alarm for noon today. This is the photo I took:

Out the window of Fix Studios

The August Break Day 21: Something Old

There are so many amazing, pimped out rides in the Mission--I caught this one showing off on 24th Street:

My favorite street

The August Break Day 20: Sight

So the prompt read "taste," however; I think it was an accidental redundancy because we already did that on the ninth. So, I chose "Sight" instead.

And how could I not! The moon was HUGE. I usually think it's silly to take photos of the moon because they always come out fuzzy, never doing her justice--but I think I found a way to capture her tonight:

Can you guess which one is the moon??? 

This is the field on Golden Gate where we play softball every week. We got our asses handed to us--but it was super fun anyway!

The August Break Day 19: White

Scenes from 18th Street:

The August Break Day 18: Looking Down

No words needed for this one:

LOOK AT DAT FACE!!!!!! i die

The August Break Day 17: Touch

My photo of the day, plus a couple extras:

Me and Zoie 

Melvin and Dave--Pony pals

Melvin

The August Break Day 16: Floral

 

I get caught up in city life sometimes. Often, it's not positive. I start to get small, and bitch about little things, like waiting in line, or crowds, or how much I hate doing laundry. And then on a bike ride to AT&T park to watch a Giants game with my boo, we stop to grab lunch from a taco truck and as I lean up on the metal fence I glance up only to see I am surrounded by this:

Swoon City USA, aka passiflora, aka passionflower

The August Break Day 15: Books

I read Cheryl Strayed's Wild in three days. There were dozens of passages that felt expressly written for me. This book felt like a dear friend, and ever since I finished, I feel like a piece of me is missing.

The August Break Day 14: Stillness

A view from the Huntington Beach pier:

Little sun pokin out the top

The August Break Day 13: Home

A photo from my first meal home:

Cuban black beans and rice

The August Break Day 12: Far Away

My mother is first generation Cuban. I grew up in Southern California surrounded by my large extended family, among my grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, and the occasional transplant who had glommed on to our family for so long that they too had become part of our blood. I am grateful every day for the family experience I had growing up--such warmth and love and good food and arriving at parties only to spend the first 20 minutes making sure you said hello and gave a hug and a kiss to everyone there, even if you had only seen them the day before.

I remember every holiday, the men would gather in the backyard and shoot the shit for a couple of hours while smoking Cuban cigars. Whoever supplied the cigars (usually my dad) was a Big Deal-you could tell by the way they would marvel and fawn over the quality, the smell, the sight of the after dinner treat. The smell of cigar smoke, and my favorite, the inside of cigar boxes, is as familiar to me as the aroma of the sofrito simmering away on the stove top. Omnipresent, familiar, comforting, and evoking such nostalgia in me now that sometimes it's all I can do not to cry with longing. The older generation, the ones who came here in the late 50's, creating a new home, never to return to their own, are getting older; normal functions are breaking down, and I already find myself bracing for the impending loss.

Dave and I rolled up to my parents' house at about 6 on Monday night. My dad was still at work, and my mom, in her excitement to see us, had an announcement:

"I have two Cohiba's I've been saving; let's smoke one!"

So we did, out on the patio, drinking beer and playing gin (I won again).

The oldies no longer smoke cigars, the laundry list of ailments no longer conducive to the ritual. Passing the cigar back and forth with my mother felt almost like a rite of passage-moving from the world of child to one of taking my place at the grown-ups table, bridging the gap between two worlds.

The August Break Day 11: Play

Dave and I spent most of today on the road. We arrived in Ventura at about 5, got cleaned up at the hotel, and headed into town to cruise around and have dinner. It felt so good to walk around in the warm summer night air...completely refreshing after spending the last month boxed in by the Norcal fog.

Then, I kicked his ass at Gin Rummy.

The August Break Day 10: Red

First day on the road:

The view across from my apartment

The August Break Day 9: Taste

As you all know by now, summer 2013 is going down in San Francisco history as THE SUMMER THE SUN NEVER CAME OUT. So I decided to eat the sun instead:

Tomorrow we hit the road for a 9 day trip up and down the coast. See you on Highway 1!

The August Break Day 8: A Selfie

I'll admit, I took like 9,000 photos of myself before I chose this one. I'm sure I'm not the only one :)

Aqui estoy:

The August Break Day 7: Skyline

Today's word was Skyline. I'll be honest, I was completely uninspired, as we haven't seen the sun in San Francisco since June. No lie.

Here's what I got for you (yes, this was taken in June. I'm using my free pass for this one).

Bernal Hill, San Francisco CA

Happy Wednesday! xo

The August Break Day 6: Diagonals

There is a Buddhist temple across the street from my apartment. I've been noticing this busy confluence for a while now, whenever I cruise down Capp Street on my bike.

More and more, as the wires get sent underground, I'm getting fonder and fonder of running into a bit of wiry chaos here and there. My favorite are the places where a bunch of bus lines converge and the cables create an urban web pressed up against the sky. 

The August Break Day 5: Close Up

A couple close ups from my Monday:

My sweet ride

At The Lucky Pork Store, my local bodega

Ganesha...my favorite image of him.

See you tomorrow!

The August Break Day 4: Love

Words, my first true love:

Since March 2009 I have kept a daily journal, a practice that stuck after I completed The Artist's Way. I now have a gorgeous stack of completed notebooks perched on a shelf in my closet--I fantasize about the day when enough time has passed that I can cull all the juicy bits and write my book.

I knew I was a writer since, well, since I learned to write. When I was seven I used to write stories on 3x5 cards, and my best friend and I would collaborate on stapled together picture books we'd write on legal pads. We didn't watch much TV in my house, and every summer, I would regularly read double, even triple the amount of books on the recommended summer reading lists. In 8th grade I won a contest for an essay I wrote on Madame Bovary (I know, kind of a weird pick for a 14 year old). Occasionally I would get in trouble for my reading choices--that was the extent of my precociousness through my childhood. Whenever anyone asked me "what do you want to be when you grow up?" my answer was, invariably, "a writer."

Somewhere along the line, I decided that being a writer was a silly choice, that I could never be good enough to be published. I stopped writing, outside of what was necessary to get through high school and college. I kept a journal sporadically, never being consistent about it for more than two or three days at a time.

I've always been anxious and a worrywart (see here and here); after a few weeks of Morning Pages it struck me how beneficial it was to start my day by getting all that chitter chatter out of my brain, through my pen and on to paper. I could then access my day from a place of presence, now that I had already attended to the usual concerns and worries. As time went on, and I continued to learn how to dwell more in my body and less and less in my overactive head, I began to use this practice as a way to fuel my creativity. I can't tell you how many times a spark of inspiration at 6:30 in the morning would later transform into a lively theme during yoga class or some of my best creative writing here on this blog.

As I reconnected to the great love of my youth, I reconnected with my GUTS. It's so funny to me now--as if I had a choice in the matter! As if I could actually decide that I could never be a writer. I see now that it has never been a choice; it's simply what has always been so. I didn't choose to write; it chose me. I am a writer regardless whether I ever get published. It is as intrinsic to my identity as is "woman" or "daughter."

This practice has also reawakened my own artistry. For the past 15 years (at least) if you would have asked me if I was an artist, I would have said "Hell no." I'd look around and see my friends painting and drawing and making things with their hands and I longed for that mythical one day to arrive where my own talent would be revealed. To look back now and see that it was always there, patiently waiting to be acknowledged...

Now, I show up every day for the muse. She will never be ignored, ever again. It sounds dramatic but this practice is literally my life-line-it keeps me honest and sane.

If you are curious about The Artist's Way, reach out to me. Or, just buy the book. You can find it used for less than $10 and even if you aren't a writer, I guarantee it will revive any dormant creative impulses. I especially recommend it if you are like me--someone who doesn't consider themselves the "creative type." I promise you it's in there--you just gotta show up.

The August Break Day 3: Yellow

I now present you with my humble abode:

The 3143~!

When I saw that Day 3's theme was "Yellow," I immediately knew what I would capture. This is where I've hung my hat since September 2006. Built in the late 1880's, this baby withstood the 1906 earthquake and ensuing fires, and, after a fresh coat of paint last year, is actually visible from space :) My front door (you can see the red doors on the second floor) originally was ground level; in the 1940's, the entire structure was raised up to add in all the storefronts. 

The August Break Day 2: Circles

First, a scene from my work:

Circles at Fix Studios, where I spend my work days

Tonight we had a dinner party. I cooked my favorite Cuban dishes, and couldn't resist snapping this photo when I realized it fell in to today's theme. A little late but too circular not to share:

Alabao!

These are tostones, twice fried green plantains--aka the flavor of my childhood. See you all tomorrow!

The August Break Day 1: Breakfast

My friend Becky over at Clean White Paper turned me on to Susannah Conway, a photographer, blogger, storyteller, and creative sparker, (seriously, go check out her site). Every summer for the past four years she hosts The August Break, a creative exercise where every day for the month of August, you take a photo and post it to your blog/Instagram/insertsocialmediaofyourchoicehere. While I don't consider myself a photographer by any means, I thought this would be a great way to fuel some creative inspiration and give me the opportunity to interact with my environment in a new way.

Here are the prompts for the month: 

I'll be posting my photos here, here, and here all month. It's not too late to participate! I'll be on vacation for 10 days this month and I'm really excited to see what shows up! 

Ok, now for my Day 1: Breakfast

I am the type of person who gets in ruts when it comes to food. If I don't push myself, I'm perfectly happy eating the same meal day after day, week after week--especially when it comes to breakfast. Sometimes it takes MONTHS before I hit burn-out and need to switch it up. 

This smoothie is perfect: I can bust it out in less than five minutes, it's delicious, protein rich (so I don't get hungry 30 minutes later), and I can take it with me when I'm short on time. Give it a go yourself! Find the recipe here.

How Yoga Saved My Life ~ Part 2

(***This post got long so I broke it down into two parts. You can read Part 1 here.)

Teacher training was like rehab. It was the only period of my adult life that I was not only sober but abstinent. I felt like I had grown wings.

But, as folks like me are wont to do, I went to another extreme. Yoga became the end all be all of my existence; all my time, money, thoughts, everything was spent on furthering my practice. I put famous yoga teachers up on pedestals. I couldn't imagine dating someone who wasn't a "yogi" (that's a killer story for another time, maybe). I never threw down for the $98 yoga pants, but I came damn close.

Luckily (I can say that now in retrospect), my yoga bubble got popped in a spectacular fashion. You can read about it here, also here. Then, my favorite teacher moved away and I felt un-tethered from everything that had been keeping me sane. The months after that were spent in deep reflection: once again, I was searching outside of myself for the answers that nobody but me could discover.

Gingerly, and after great contemplation, I got down from my high horse. I took a step back from teaching. I went back to basics, creating my practice anew, asking my inner teacher the next step to take, rather than mimicking what I *thought* a "real" yogi would do.

I'm sharing all these things (even though it's super scary to be this honest) because as I go deeper and deeper with my business, and deeper and deeper into life, I have to be as authentic as possible: not only because I am in the business of serving others, but because I need a way to hold myself accountable to the commitments I've made to myself--and to my soul; to the world I want to create and in which I want to participate. I share these things because I want you all to know that when I talk about health and wellness and living a full, inspired, healthy, creative life, I am not pulling something out of my ass or from some book I read; I have struggled hugely with simply being who I am, in all my flawed glory.

The biggest thing I'm getting is that I have a choice in all this. I can choose to make the process the goal, instead of waiting for some mythical future to arrive where I have the perfect body, all the money, a nice apartment, work that fulfills me, and the freedom to play and travel as much as I want. I can choose happiness, health, wealth, love, creativity, and joy in the nitty gritty of every day life--instead of fleeing reality. I can wake up every day and commit again and again to discovering the extraordinary in the ordinariness of daily life. When I can focus on the process and remove the pressure of the fabled end result, a freedom and clarity arises that I never thought possible; what's more, when I choose the things I'm committed to, instead of worrying over what I want to avoid, my life rises up in support of those choices. I am no longer at the mercy of past patterns; now, I have a say in the matter.

I am grateful for a life of moderation. Now, my antennae perk up anytime I start to tilt too far into extreme territory--it's only challenging when it's something perceived as "healthy" (Paleo, anyone!?). These days, I find infinite solace in early bedtimes, home-cooked meals, a daily writing practice and a return to my first love, dance. I still practice yoga, the difference is that now it's one of many tools in my toolbox, rather than the ONLY ONE.

If I were to consolidate all of this into some type of advice it would be thus: Find a daily practice. Doesn't matter what it is--but make sure to do it every day. Eat good food, and plenty of it. Get to bed early and take lots of naps. Move your body in a way that makes you feel strong and vital. Ask for help when you feel stuck. Go on vacation as much as possible, even if all you can swing are weekend trips here and there. Celebrate your accomplishments, especially the seemingly "little"ones. And most of all, TRUST THE PROCESS. Otherwise, you'll miss out on life, and, as we all know, this is the only one we get.

I usually don't share Hafiz or Rumi poems (years of hearing them in nearly every yoga class kinda killed the magic for me); this is too appropriate not to share (and maybe it's time for me to give up that story, too):

Cast Your Votes for Dancing

Hafiz

I know the voice of depression

still calls to you.

I know those habits that can ruin your life

Still send their invitations.

But you are with the friend now

And look so much stronger.

You can stay that way

And even bloom!..

Learn to recognize the counterfeit coins

That may buy you just a moment of pleasure, 

But then drag you for days,

Like a broken man

Behind a farting camel.

O keep squeezing drops of the Sun

From your prayers and work and music

And from your companions' beautiful laughter

And from the most insignificant movements

Of your own holy body.

Now, sweet one,

Be wise.

Cast all your votes

for dancing!