I participated in a Shamanic Fire Ceremony last night, hosted by my studio. Although this was not my first experience with this ancient ritual, ascribed to the Incas, it had been quite a long time. During my long and varied spiritual journey, Shamanism had been one of my visiting points.

The ceremony dates back over 100,000 years, performed by the Native people of the Americas. The potential for dramatic transformation is based on using the most powerful catalyst we know (fire) to burn away those aspects of our lives which we no longer want. After a guided meditation, during which you tune into subtle (or not so subtle) messages, we are informed of what needs releasing.

There are chants, and evocation of the natural forces, to help us see more clearly. Our thoughts are transferred to paper, and distilled and refined over many repetitions to the gem of the issue. That written nugget is then offered to the fire, where it is transformed to the possibility for another choice. The participant also uses the fire to cleanse themselves, taking it in to heal, inspire and empower.

It is interesting that the fire does not fix things. It just allows the person the freedom and clarity to see that there is another way. We may be stuck in patterns of victimization, addiction or xx. It’s not that these situations never come up anymore. The reactions just stop happening automatically. Instead, we are offered options which do not support the original behavior or thought, and that inspire greater consciousness.

I have had mixed results. I am usually moved during the ceremony, and can easily find much to offer the fire, but have difficulty converting the insights into real change. This is a repeated pattern for me, experienced over and over with each attempt I make to feel better. Sometimes the effects last longer or are more profound. Sometimes all that’s left is the emptiness of failure.

For over a decade, I became a self-development junkie, hopping onto any teaching I could get my hands on. From the extreme to the subtle, I tried it. My head was so filled with the deconstruction of all that was wrong in my life, I’m not sure how I even functioned. It was a non-stop cycle of purge and refill.

I went to see a famous doctor during this time, who practiced Traditional Chinese Medicine. I mentioned so many times the need for detoxing and cleansing that he finally stopped to ask, “Are you feeling dirty?”.  Needless to say, it shut me up.

This wise man was so easily able to see that underneath my obsession with fixing and flushing lay an intractable assumption of my own yuckiness. I realized that while I was pretending to pursue learning and growth, I was really having a field day with self-judgment and contempt. My inner beliefs about myself were the kind that would bring on a bad smell face. It was pure distaste and disdain.

I want so desperately to be free, liberated from the loathing of my own wounds. I want to know more, have more, be more, without disavowing what’s already there. I want to feel whole and right.

The lightest of snow falls greeted me the morning after the fire ceremony. I had failed once again, ironically, to burn away my faults and failures. I wanted the immediacy and permanence of combustion to vanish my impatience, uncertainty and sadness, completely and irreversibly. I wanted to exorcise my demons.  Instead, I got snow, falling slowly, staying briefly, covering them tenderly.

Although the universe sometimes works with big flaming action, this day it came in gentle flakes, almost imperceptible, leaving a soft blanket of white. The world outside my window was peaceful, untarnished, clean, just as I wanted to be. I walked out into the snow and invited my tears to join their frozen friends, praying for compassion in my transformation.

While on my way to work, I heard a radio program about an organization that promotes extreme travel. It was not that long ago that I considered that to mean no checked luggage. But these members were not talking about Disneyland tours or visiting every Walmart in the world. They weren't Gen-xers raised on extreme sports, jumping off things around the globe, as I had imagined. No, this rather large organization was comprised of mature adults driven to explore the 800+ must-see sites on this planet. Not for the faint of heart, or for the empty of wallet, this club lists the most hard to reach and the most dangerous places as some of their targets. One member spoke about a trip that required 37 flights. Another described how the planes that land in Mogadishu always face out towards the runway should a prompt escape become necessary. Serous business, for sure.

 

Being independently wealthy seemed to be a prerequisite. Empty nesters, as well as road warriors not ready to give it all up at retirement, were drawn to the adventure of it. The members competed for standing by tallying how many trips they had taken. The top guys were well into the 700s, although I can't really imagine how hard it was to actually get a hold of these folks.

 

As I continued on my drive, I toyed with the idea of taking this on. I am an avid traveler, and would be up for the adventure. Then it struck me... My spiritual journey has been not unlike an extreme exploration. One rarely finds, or is drawn to, a spiritual path in a passive way. You need it as you need air to breathe. And that impetus takes you to some scary places. The practices of yoga and meditation seem much more demanding than any 37 flights could be. Sometimes on a daily basis.

 

Sometimes it feels like an endless loop of planes, trains and automobiles to catch a faraway glimpse of something wonderful. And every now and then, without even trying, the magical meets you where you are.

 

I imagine the extreme travelers can't let themselves get too attached to schedules and itineraries, given how unpredictable travel can be. You might set sail for Greece, end up in Morocco instead. What a shame it would be to miss the wonders of Marrakesh because your heart was set on Mykonos.

 

In the same way we travel the path of spirit, doing as the Gita tells us, relinquishing attachment to the outcome. We do our best, certainly, putting the time and discipline into our practices, but we then must let the universe have her way with us, staying present to the magic and the mysteries.

 

I love my life of extreme inner exploration, as well as the club we've formed. Our sangha doesn't rely on unlimited funding, or even leaving home. Luckily, no airplane meals required.

I own a lot of shoes... many beautiful, fancy, nearly un-wearable shoes. And while I'm in the confessing mood, I'll add that I also have a lot of clothes, many of which hang in my closets with their original tags. A friend, recently viewing my closets for the first time, exclaimed "This is like sex in the city!!". I laughed at the comment, and explained, "Actually, it's more like sexless in the suburbs". Funny, but true. 

 

You see, I'm single... very single. Read: no action at all. So all my party dresses and kicky shoes lie in wait for me to get a life, or at least a date. My life is full with building and managing the businesses I birthed, loving and raising my wonderful daughter, and a variety of responsibilities and activities.  The men just haven't gotten their own slot. 

 

Now I would like to invite them in. I'd like to wear lipstick and a sexy bra and feel delicious, desirable, and all grown up. I'd like to ponder over the decision of the perfect shoes to wear. I'd like to see a man catch his breath when I appear. Mostly I'd like to just exhale, relaxing in the loving, caring arms of my beloved. He won't have to compete one bit with Jimmy, Manolo, or Calvin. 

Today is my baby brother’s birthday.  I struggle with the tense here. Since he is passed, do I also use past tense to describe his birthday, or does a birthday continue on past the person? Pondering this zen-like question distracts me from the sadness. I miss him.

I miss the rest of my family, too, and all the friends I have lost recently. My life went from very full to very empty abruptly. It now feels like that ache in your lungs after a particularly deep cough. Too much contraction keeps me from the next inhale. I take in neither grief, nor relief, nor life.

Grief is the shading that takes the brightness away from even the sunniest day. It’s not so black that I cannot see (or do), just dimmed enough that I know it is there. I have always asked for the full experience of life – its ups and downs. But I seem to be stuck somewhere in the middle, without access to the edges. I survive, some may even say thrive, but it feels very different now. I protect myself from the very bottom, afraid it might be bottomless, which seems to block me from the top. I know the key to my breaking through to the brightness is the surrender to the blackness. But it’s so very dark down there. How will I find my way?

I want to dance again, free and present only of the movement of my body and the rhythm of the universe. I want the symphony of my grief to play at a deafening volume so that I cannot deny it. I want it to overtake me, throw me to the ground and ravage me. When we are done, I want to be filled with emptiness.  From nothing, I can begin again, the void drawing life to it. I can listen for the music and squint at the bright, bright light.

It is very early in the morning as I sit in an airport diner with my daughter, on our way to a grand adventure - an Alaskan cruise. We are both bleary and excited. After rejecting several other dining options, we settle on this one - bright and cheerful, with a menu we can both appreciate. My eyes are riveted to the top of the menu, which reads "Special!!! Peanut butter banana pancakes". Even my daughter, although finding this combination absolutely revolting, comments, "Mommy, those are all your favorite things mixed up together".

 

I hesitate for a moment, questioning such decadence this early in the day. But then again, I am with my favorite person, on a perfect day, embarking on a beautiful trip. Why not?! And so the celebration begins.

 

This trip began so long ago for me... in my childhood, really. It became a possibility after I lost yet another family member, then an actuality when everything aligned to make it happen. Gazing at my beloved daughter, savoring my delicious breakfast, my mind wanders to the past.

 

My father was the only one in my family with whom I ever felt truly connected. We had very similar temperaments and sensibilities. We enjoyed many of the same things, including this crazy idea to go to Alaska. While everyone was planning around Europe and the Caribbean, we were dreaming about glaciers and the final frontier. His death ended that dream and began the eventual disintegration of my family - divorce from my husband, death of my brother, destruction of my mother.

 

And now that it's just my daughter and I, the dream is reborn. My two favorite people, although never having met each other, brought me to this place, decadent pancakes and all. I savor each mouthful, growing excited about what is to come.

 

My pancake and iceberg reverie is interrupted only by the constant impulse to look up. Across the diner, directly in my sight line, is a family- mother, father and 2 young boys. I had noticed them while waiting for a table, partly for their ordinariness and partly for their unhappiness. They appeared so much like me and my community, yet their mask of normalcy could barely conceal something so pained and miserable I could barely watch. And yet I was compelled to keep witnessing their experience.

 

They never looked at each other, and spoke only when necessary. "Pass the salt", "Use your fork", they would mutter. I told myself that this examination was my 'therapist' self at work. It was actually much more personal than that. They so strongly caught my attention because they were me. This was the road I had been on -  to having 'everything' and nothing at the same time. I was so sad at the thought of the trip they were taking, probably their family summer vacation. It reminded me of my own joyless excursions, as a child and in my marriage.

 

I could rationalize that maybe they had just had a tough morning, but the lines and form of the wife's face told me she had been wearing this mask for some time. I touched my face, looking for the same indicators, but could not find them. Perhaps I was not them. I felt each of the events of my life as poignantly as being thrown off the side of the road. None of it was planned or wanted. But each time I got thrown off made it more and more difficult to get back on the same path. Maybe the truth is I couldn't even see that road anymore and had to find another. Either way, I ended up here, with my sweet baby girl.

 

For a long time, I was so angry with my father for dying. For leaving me with a mother and brother I could not handle, a husband I didn't want, and a new baby for whom I didn't know to care. And then it was nearly all gone, just like I asked for. I had to admit it was all for the best as I gaze upon the unhappy family in the diner. I want to tell them that living through what they might think is the worst thing ever might actually bring the joy back into their lives. I want to tell them that I lost nearly everything and found myself. I want them to laugh with their children and take impossible trips. I want to share with them how beautiful it is to be full of love and peanut butter banana pancakes.

 

How are those resolutions holding up?

 

I’m not one for resolutions, really. I abandoned that custom when I realized it was just a reinforcement of the past years failures, and an excuse to drag them into the next year. It’s more and more difficult to avoid beating yourself up these days.

 

Constantly falling into the hole of over-commitment, and succumbing to the addiction to busy-ness are both hard-to-avoid pitfalls. Often, our ways of living, and the ways of the modern world, are custom designed to create wants and needs which can not be filled. We are bombarded with too many options that do not serve us in any way, serving only the corporate interests behind them. We are challenged by communication, allowing the past and habitual reactions (samskaras!!), to obscure truth and hinder relationship.

 

That’s a lot to transcend. No wonder so many of us try to find solace in committing (over and over again) to finding a better way. But it never works, does it? For my time in this experiment we call life, I’m trying something else. I work on uncovering my truth in every moment and setting goals conscious of who I am at my best self. The difference for me lies in the language I use and the intention behind it. I share my ‘evolutions’ with you.

 

Use every breath as a re-commitment to my practice, both on and off the mat. (yes, even a teacher and studio owner has trouble maintaining the space for personal practice)

 

Allow my body’s wisdom to guide me towards the best choices to support me with health (Notice the difference from ‘I need to lose 10 pounds’.)

 

Reinforce the habit to listen more than I speak

 

Use every word as an opportunity to be less separate and more an agent of the Divine.

 

I would love to hear yours! May you be blessed in all you receive

If you can’t feed a hundred people, then just feed one.Mother Teresa

All of you have probably been hearing about the devastationin Haiti. Many of you may know that I am from Haiti, and still have much familythere. My predominant sensations during the past week have been shock anddisbelief. This poor country has been in such a terrible state for so long –certainly since I was born. It is hard to comprehend yet more damage anddestruction.

While I’ve been paralyzed in my philosophical ponderings andmy worried suffering, the world has mobilized. I’ve been inundated with contactfrom people near and far, wondering how they could help. I hear the numbersabout how much money has been raised, and the various support organizations divertingall their resources to this situation. I continue to be surprised by theattention from the most unlikely places – my business coach, my alma mater, myhealth and wellness colleagues – none of whom have any connection to Haiti.

I always felt that Haiti was forgotten, even by Haitians, sothis outpouring of concern and support leaves me in disbelief. I don’t recallthis much attention EVER being given to a natural disaster. Then, I think,maybe this is not just the ground shaking below us, maybe this is the shakingloose of our conditions of apathy, self-absorption and separateness.  From the most unlikely place and event, I amreassured of the goodness of people. Really, I’m blown away by it all.

I believe we all have a part to play in this situation. Forsome of us, it will be the ultimate offering – to stop our lives as they areand give everything we have. For many, it will be finding something tocontribute – time, money, supplies, skills. For most, I hope it will be a callto recognize how blessed we all are. We stand on solid ground, with our homesand loved ones, observing this tragedy from afar. But we always have theopportunity to express our generosity and kindness, even if just to the personright next to you.

 As Deepak Choprasaid, “Perhaps it is through the people of Haiti that a new world ofcompassion, love and healing will be born. This is their sacrifice and gift tous. “

We may find ourselves excited and invigorated by the chill in the air and the buzz of the season. We may find ourselves a bit fatigued battling the cold and adding holiday activities to an already overly full schedule of responsibilities. Perhaps we find ourselves completely overwhelmed, not with the current moment, but with the anticipation of the frenzy to come. There are certainly differences in our experiences, but so much depends on perspective.

We all have ideas about what should be, but much of the time the universe does not oblige. How can we shift so that we align ourselves with what actually is? It’s almost as if we shift our perspective from a movie playing in our minds, to the screen in front of us. If it is happening in reality, doesn’t that mean that it is ok, at least for the present? Can all those feelings of overwhelm and unhappiness be dissolved in the full immersion of the moment, no matter what it looks like?

The questions that linger for me are – how do I take the insight, peace and balance I gain from my yoga practice into the world, despite what is being offered to me at the time? How can the inspiration to stay in Warrior 1 even when my thigh is on fire help me to find my untapped energy and resilience when the demands of life seem overwhelming? How can my intention to stay present during Savasana help me to notice the opportunities I’m given to rest and rejuvenate? How can constantly coming back to the breath remind us of what lies beneath the messiness of life? There are so many examples of the strength and equanimity we find on the mat or cushion, and how that can help us maneuver through snow storms, challenging relatives and all the other goodies of the holiday season.

I invite you to stay connected – to your practice, to the people who mirror your own magnificence, and to all the experiences that feed your soul. I offer you deepest blessings for the holidays and our transition to a new year.

Sometimes it’s hard to give thanks. Sometimes what the universe offers feels more like punishment than gifts. Sometimes it’s hard to find the light, even when you know it’s there.

At these times, a good dose of perspective can guide the way. Imagine that we were living in the most affluent country in the world, with our homes and our cars and our families. Imagine that our energy, not needed for basic survival –food, shelter, safety – was available for pursuits of spirit and pleasure.Imagine having access to teachers, guides and healers who provide us with tools, methods and practices for personal development, health and joy fulliving. Of course we don’t have to imagine these things – they are part of our reality.

And yet, we suffer. The pain of loss, disease and death appears to strike us to our innermost layers. I feel it – sometimes so strongly that it nearly knocks me over. But it’s really only a dream. The truth awaits as soon as I wake up,however difficult that may be sometimes. The strength comes from knowing what is to come. Gratitude, like brushing your teeth, getting on the mat, and every relationship you have, is a practice. One that can only be experienced by the doing of it, not just once, but over and over again. Even when life brings us to our knees, it shows us the solidity of the ground below us.

I’ve come to believe that the act of giving thanks is the means to rising from the dream and seeing that grace is all around. I learn (and have to relearn every moment) that there is always room for gratitude. I experience that the darker the situation, the greater the need to share the light. The challenge lies in trusting the universe enough to open your eyes and remember to see the light, feel the grace and live the blessings.

I am blessed to be spending the Thanksgiving holiday with some of the people I love most in this world. I am blessed to have found the means to express what is inside me, and share my gifts with others. I am blessed that so many of you have shined your light on me. I am truly blessed to have shared some of my time on this planet with my sweet baby brother. PLEASE take this opportunity to know your blessings, share your blessings, live your blessings. Embrace this moment with everything you have. Within it lies all you need.

Sending you my deepest gratitude,

Our paths TO yoga are as wide and varied as our paths IN yoga.  Some of us begin because of family influence, while others may intentionally turn away from cultural heritage. We embark with goals of fitness, health or serenity – sometimes all three. Some of us experience love at first site and many more keep trying until the right school, teacher or practice finds us. A few, like me, actually get their first experience of God. Whatever brought us there, however, is rarely what keeps us there.

What does it matter why we practice? As long as we do then it’s all good, right? Well, unfortunately, it’s very easy (and common) to use the practice to reinforce the habits and behaviors we are trying to overcome.  The overly stressed pick the most vigorous practices, bringing a sense of striving and competitiveness; the under-stimulated shy away from testing their limits. Either way, the practice becomes exercise or rest – certainly not growth.

Have you ever been in a yoga class battling anger, boredom,judgment, even rage? Maybe it wasn’t the teacher or practice you came for,maybe someone else was in your spot, maybe there were no more clean towels. Did you feel yourself reacting, unable to stop the progression of the story or the emotion? Did it feel like a continuation of everything you experience in your ‘real’ life? Sometimes we get the gift of consciousness and clarity, sometimes we don’t.  Sometimes we find a receptacle to unload these feelings (teacher, owner, family), sometimes they are absorbed into our cells much like the food we eat.

We may find these thoughts and feelings arising out of our response to who is leading the class. Do you ever ask – Am I here for the teacher or for the practice? Have I come to be recognized or just to be? Have I come to idolize or to actually see myself? It’s a very common trapping – to get so wrapped up in the person of a teacher that we forget that this is a journey we must ultimately take on our own. To find guides that help us along the way is invaluable. To substitute their thoughts and voice for our own can be a means to deep suffering. Teachers are human, too (don’t know if you realized that), and sometimes act in truly reprehensible ways. (Personal experience on this one…) Sometimes their light shines so brightly, it is unmistakable. Is it possible to see more clearly our own behaviors and motivations, to better align with energies that promote our growth?

The yoga class is a perfect little model of what happens outside the sacred doors of the studio. If we can’t find equanimity and balance in this environment, how do we expect to manage life’s events – traffic, job loss, divorce, death?? Can we use that time in the ‘yoga laboratory’ to really examine who happens to be there, on the mat? Do we bring with us those thoughts that consistently bring us discontent, discomfort, dis-ease and despair? Do we carry within our beautiful bodies the same ego-mind craziness that led us on this search for solace? Did we perhaps pack alongside our yoga mat that instinct that keeps us like sharks, unable to slow down or stop, constantly needing a target and the ‘fix’ of adrenaline? It might be fair to ask how much ‘stuff’ we brought with us to class!!

If we come to yoga to know ourselves, than there is no way around the requirement to STOP… to breathe as if our lives (and sanity) depended on it… and to observe and acknowledge our habitual thoughts and behaviors. Believe me, it’s much easier to breathe through a discontent in a yoga class than to learn it in an argument with your spouse.

I believe that change begins at the level of the individual.One person makes one decision to say no to habit, reaction and ‘how it’s always been’… to realize that just as we choose our habits – including our movements,patterns, preferences and even addictions – we can un-choose them. To choose not to condemn yourself for not ‘achieving’ a posture is likely easier than conquering something like alcoholism, but it certainly can be challenging in the moment.

The solution starts with the same small voice letting you know you are bigger, better, more glorious than what your thoughts had led you to believe. Begin by bringing your reactions, addictions and aversions into the classroom to be set free – recognized, appreciated and released. Find the space within a moment of breath to see your own methods, madness and marvels.  Allow the seeds of the practice to bear their sweet, beautiful fruits of freedom. Approach your practice with an open mind(and an even more open heart). What can I learn from this experience – not from the teacher, but from my own responses and reactions? What can I take home with me even if every single thing goes ‘wrong’ – wrong teacher, temperature, music,students and series of postures? How can I be ok with what is??

Don’t be fooled - there’s nothing passive about this form of acceptance. It actually requires a hero’s dose of courage. The bravery lies not in seeing what’s outside of you, but in feeling what’s inside of you without reacting to it. The ability to find even the smallest amount of discernment between ‘I am angry’ and ‘I am feeling anger’ can make a world of difference. Peace lies in knowing that every moment provided to you is a gift, no matter what story the ego-mind conjures up. Perhaps there’s even the possibility to find humor in that wacky internal voice. (I like to call mine Pearl. She’s quite a character…). Life is too short to get caught in the drama. Let’s instead cultivate the wisdom to own up to our own divinity. Let it shine!!!