Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Mirror Mirror On The Wall ...

After living on an island, one of the most considerable adjustment that I've had to make with returning back to 'civilization' is getting re-accustomed to mirrors. Not just actual mirrors (that are everywhere!) but also things that that injure as mirrors often do - reflective windows, people's looks, and mostly all the abrasive and insistent marketing. Everywhere I turn I am being shown how I ought to look. With most everyone I meet, I strongly feel the appraisal of my physical sheath and the things that adorn it vs. my energy and heart. It is uncanny and so felt. The uncentering ways of these manipulative vibrations and images can weigh heavy. It's been a beautiful month of observation and taking note + pausing, re-grounding, and strengthening. I am grateful for this new-found awareness and the opportunity to strengthen my ability to stay centered and work in this world from the inside out. 
"You are also a formless existence, but you know yourself not directly, but from others’ eyes. You know through the mirror. Sometime, while looking in the mirror, close your eyes and then think, meditate: if there was no mirror, how could you have known your face. If there was no mirror, there would have been no face. You do not have a face; mirrors give you a face. Think of a world where there are no mirrors. You are alone – no mirror at all, not even others’ eyes working as mirrors. You are alone on a lonely island; nothing can mirror you. Then will you have a face. Or will you have any body? You cannot have one. You do not have one at all. We know ourselves only through others, and others can only know the outer form. That is why we become identified with it." - Osho

Saturday, December 20, 2014

Sexual Abuse in the Satyananda Yoga Lineage

What is coming to light about child and sexual abuse in the Satyananda Yoga Lineage. This is article presents facts, amongst the author's own views. Shocking, hard to read, but wanted to share as it's important to be aware of as yoga continues to evolve in the west.

Friday, December 19, 2014

Death, love, and meditaiton.

A few days ago I was going to Mataram with Marjan. We were driving on his motorbike, and I thought to myself, I am so happy. I was so happy that I feared I would die that day. I have never felt this before. I now know that I was feeling an extended instance of raw bliss. There was a part of me that was (and most likely still is) in fact, dying. My infantile mind didn’t know how to process this and took it as it does most things: rather literally. Fear came, but the vibration of happiness was far more intoxicating. 

I held onto Marjam, the breeze in my hair, the monkeys in the trees, so in love with everything, and I thought, "it must be time to go". I was just too happy, entirely too content, and immediately intimidated by this deep happiness. It felt like an abyss. It felt like it was going to swallow me. At the time, I made no mention of my feelings and tried to brush them away. 
Now I understand. Well, no, I do not understand. But now I have seen a little bit more, and I understand that I didn’t understand (and most likely, don’t understand)much at all. 

"Death always occurs in the present. Death, love, meditation - they all occur in the present. So if you are afraid of death, you cannot love. If you afraid of love, you cannot meditate. If you afraid of meditation, your life will be useless. Useless not in the sense of any purpose, but useless in the sense that you will never be able to feel any bliss in it. It will be futile. It may seem strange to connect these three: love, meditation, death. It is not! They are similar experiences. So if you enter in one, you can enter in the remaining two." - Osho. 

Monday, November 17, 2014

Photography by Alba Giné

This was the most organic experience. I have never felt so simple and relaxed around anyone. Alba IS soul and an incredible visionary and artist. Please check out her work and events on

Thursday, September 25, 2014

The Continuation, Original written on May 10th, 2014. 1:49am

I woke up from a dream, grabbed a pen, and began writing.

I have been afraid. I have been afraid of love. I’ve been living under the delusion that it is one way when it is not. Love is just love. It is not the old ball and chain, or the horse and carriage. It doesn’t have to look on me the way it looks on others.

I am afraid that with love, life will stop. Society has told me it will. But with love, there will be oneness and an abolishment of duality. Life will not just NOT stop, but it will flow, and expand, and bring me closer to the core of myself, and therefor all beings.

I now realize that my mind has been tied up in mistruths, a dense and deep-rooted miseducation – and up until this point, up until this moment of waking up in a sweat, in the middle of the night, in Australia, on May 10th, 2014, my mind has been telling me that with love I have to conform. That with love I will have to ‘settle’, and begin moving through the motions. First you are free, and then you find someone, and you are not.

Intellectually, I have rejected the physical thoughts, the projection onto me, but there was so much to be undone. A 27-year-old garden – fucking full of weeds. I could tell myself as much as I wanted to, ‘you don’t want to live this way’, but underneath were old seeds, working against my truth. Tonight I see them, and I pull them out.

Love is greater. I don’t want to and don’t have to feel like a ‘wife’. I don’t have to be a wife. Period. I still remember how the men in the office at South Bay would react when someone told their wives were on the phone. I still remember the grins and the high fives when the mistresses would drop by. I kept my eyes on the computer screen, and told myself, you will never be the wife. I was 18 and my young soul was hurting, and it wasn’t just shields that came up with that ache, but weapons. I didn’t want to just protect myself; I wanted to play the game and fight. I don’t know why. Maybe my ego or upbringing, but that is what occurred. In that moment, I utterly rejected the idea of partnership. My young self also didn’t realize it’s not so black and white and that I worked with a bunch of assholes.

Bottom line is, I don’t have to feel lesser than a mistress. I don’t have to have children, or partake in any of the domestic white picket fence shit that makes me nauseous. I don’t have to be a traditional wife or push out offspring. I am and can be none of those things and still be love. And the souls that my soul is already bound with will understand this.

Life doesn’t have to stop or be a certain way. Our souls can continue to orbit this earth, explore together, grow together, and be un-uniform. We’ll see past the fog and past the unspoken laws. The souls that my soul is already interwoven with have been waiting for me to wake up 1:40am and realize with what ludicrous fear and social condition I’ve been living with. I didn’t see this.

The thickness of the untruth we’ve existed in. Traditions are truth for many, I am sure, but for me, it is hard to swallow. Love is life. Love is infinite. It expands, elevates, and wraps you up in the fabric that binds us all and through it you are never suppressed. And for some it may look like the picture that was painted for us, but not for me.

With love, I only go deeper into myself. It does not end things for me. It does not begin things for me. It runs in an infinite circle. It’s a reminder of the beautiful wholeness, the continuation. The continuation. The continuation. It just occurred to me.

I’ve been in love all along.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Dear Body - I am sorry.

I feel remorse.
I turned a blind eye to the abuse, and in doing so, made you my slave and not my partner. 
I used you to mask my pain, and then resented you for not being able to recover. 
For every moment of neglect and unawareness. 

For throwing you into starvation when I thought it would make the world love me. 

For the month of moonshine, top ramen, and peanuts, and then sprinting, bloodymad sprinting, until you hit the wall, dehydrated, throbbing, trying. Trying so hard for me. 
For the lack of balance. 

For the decade of birth control. 

For not resting and keeping you warm when you were so defeated and ill. 
Mostly I am sad for pushing you away instead of pulling you close in moments of disconnect. 
I am sorry I couldn't look at you. 

And mostly sad that I didn't see how lovely you are. 

Thank you for harbouring my soul and my spirit, and speaking to me with such patience.
As you always have.
I am listening now. 


#dearbody is a declaration of love, a renewing of vowels. After more than a year of traveling, I found myself disconnected. I knew all too well that despite my efforts and my practice, the constant flux and absolute lack of structure and stability had been long taking a toll on my ability to check in and l-i-s-t-e-n, and it was creating suffering. 

One spring evening as I sat in the sand and enjoyed a sunset, I assigned my intellect and ego to draft a  letter to my physical and emotional body. This was the result. And although private, I feel compelled to share because this is my yoga. The journey is far from over, but this helped infuse the path with more love and compassion.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Natural Disasters

I alone cannot hold back the rivers of the world. 

Grant me permission to unclench my fists.

To avalanche, sprint, and downfall.

To wrap myself around you like wind arcs around an eagle’s wings.

I alone cannot subdue the storms of the world.

Like majestic sirens and sailors, I need

You to release your fingers into the poppy fields of my mane.

To sink your Titanic, and give way to this drunken dusk.

Like horizons take the sun.

Like horizons take the sun.

With ceaseless certainty.

Untiring and utterly undone.

Say you give into me.

Or take cover, and sound off

The alarms.