by Mara Healy, guest contributor

Compassion takes many forms. It can be the reassuring hug of a significant other. It can be an unexpected kindness from a stranger. It can be the firm guidance of a parent or a teacher. It can be the quiet of a listening friend. It can be the unspoken understanding communicated through a soft glance. The one ingredient found in each example is the focus on the one outside oneself. It is the doing for someone else without expectation of some reciprocation. Compassion has no agenda. It has no preconceived notion of a particular outcome.

Is this automatic? Perhaps it is sometimes, when we are confronted with the needs of those closest to us. What about the times when we see the needs of others with whom we share only the bond of humanity rather than the ties of family or friendship? How do we generate the same outward focus and giving? How can we clone and multiply compassion especially in our busy, multi-tasking lives?

In today’s modern society, we have made entertainment out of the emotional struggles of others through venues such as reality television. We see war, terrorism, starvation and genocide on the daily news. We read about murder, robbery, kidnapping and infanticide in daily newspapers. We hear radio programs about political upheaval, religious intolerance, and economic collapse. In a world so globally connected, it seems likely that a hardness-of-the-heart could develop out of sheer self-preservation due to the overwhelming nature of this suffering.

These same media outlets also provide us with glimpses of humanity, outreach, self-sacrifice, and generosity, around the world, though those stories are sometimes overshadowed by larger, negative ones. Unfortunately, stories of happiness and kindness don’t consistently generate the same attention that tragedy and mayhem arouse.

The good news is that we can retrain our attention, interest, curiosity, thinking and attitudes through one small act of compassion each day. One act of giving, focused on someone else, generated from a full heart of pure intention, can create a ripple effect of kindness in the same way that a pebble thrown into a large lake sends ripples in all directions reaching every water’s edge. The bigger the pebble, the bigger the ripples, but even a light leaf dropped creates ripples, so the act does not have to be large for its impact to be felt.

Compassion and kindness roots itself quickly, and sends out shoots in all directions like bamboo. It bends and sways like bamboo, it is strong like bamboo. Once rooted, it is nearly impossible to eradicate.

When life sends events or circumstances that might destabilize our thinking or uproot our emotions, the perceptive, kind eye of another who lends us a hand, an ear or some time, can ground us, allowing us to regain our footing. Experiencing that done for us makes us more likely to do it for another. Seeing it done makes us more likely to replicate the action. Hearing about it hopefully sparks warmth in the heart and touches our thinking.

Generating this outward focus and sense of giving is a practice like any other; it comes with time, repetition and begins with small acts. Practicing compassion in a society that is often rude, in a hurry, and potentially self-centered is the ultimate test of our daily commitment. Plant a small seed of compassion and kindness in the garden of your mind. Once rooted, a small thought can grow into an act. Actions become habits. Habits alter our attitudes. Our attitudes shape our motivations. It is through action that we create change both within and without. Do the patient thing and patience will come. Do the courageous thing and courage will come. Do the kind thing and compassion will come.

You can learn more about Mara Healy at www.marayogini.com.

by Ali Valdez

Three years ago, Natalie Smith, a certified yoga teacher took the reins of a local but growing Seattle non-profit after many frustrating years working in social justice. Yoga Behind Bars was originally founded by Shaina Traisman, a Seattle yogini and fellow graduate of the first teacher training I took with Kathleen Hunt, who gave birth to the idea of serving the incarcerated community through the power of yoga after using her combined skills in yoga and massage to work with a political prisoner. The response was powerful, a shell cracking open within the spirit of the man long devoid of touch or any type of human connection. This inspired Shaina to take action in a broader way, creating Yoga Behind Bars, a non-profit 501(c)(3) organization in Seattle that brings yoga and meditation classes to incarcerated youth and adults in Washington State. Their mission is to share tools of self-awareness, healing and transformation with their students.

The Yoga Behind Bars program is a Continued Education ten-hour training that is taken after a formal two hundred hour certification. I personally know many of the teachers who have done this, Chielle, Bonnie, Hasna, all amazing women!

“We realized what infrastructure we needed to build so we could grow wisely. We just graduated 20 more teachers. Now we have 45 teachers total and they are prepared to teach kids, women and men. We have developed our own curriculum to support our mission,” says Natalie Smith. At the heart of their program, simply, is compassion. The YBB teacher is someone working through the process from within, acting from a place of true compassion, not seeking outward gratification. There is no problem to fix, nothing external to them. They simply identify with the transformative process we are all going through, seeing themselves as much in the world as they are behind bars.

One of Natalie’s many ‘aha’ moments was centered around compassion. Everyday after working at the downtown jail, Natalie felt her heart harden up a bit whenever she boarded the number two bus, making efforts to avoid sitting next to certain people. There was a sense of separation and a closing inward.

“Then one afternoon, I got on the bus and someone I considered the ‘other’ sat next to me and my heart just opened. For the first time, I felt this connection. There was a lack of separation and that was when I recognized this was a powerful kind of yoga.

I really don’t care if I can touch my toes. This is the kind of yoga I should be doing because it is changing me from the inside out.”

As the program grows, so has their ability to attract grant money which has enabled them to make sound investments, one of which is the recent collaboration with long-time prison yoga advocate, Nova Guthrie.

“We brought on the expertise of Nova Guthrie who was incarcerated for eight years. The first year and a half she was in solitary confinement and practiced yoga from a book three to four times daily. She began teaching women over seven years ago. You meet her and she is glowing. She is the expert in every way, from the inside out. She’s done the work, she has been there,” adds Smith.

When asked if it’s hard to be effective within the correctional system, Natalie smiles.

“We manage to the needs of the facility. At first, we tried to have ‘our’ formula, but when working with an institution as rigid as the prison system, we realized we needed to be flexible, and fluid. We had to be like water. We bring the same love and the same infrastructure, but tailored to the facility. But that has allowed us to go deeper.

We truly have to be the yogis, and we have seen the fruit. Several of the facilities have requested doubling the number of classes that YBB offers.”

For those working in a correctional facility, there can be no touch. The YBB teacher needs to not only teach yoga, but to provide in spirit the bodywork feeling. “You have to see the student becoming their own healer.”

The YBB teacher quickly learns real insights into the system. “What I have found in doing this work,” Smith adds, “has really opened my eyes to the criminal justice system. I am seeing specifically lower socio-economic individuals, some of whom have experienced horrific trauma and were leading difficult lives. They either did not have or did not choose skillful ways to respond to those pressures, so they used drugs and alcohol. Some have a history of mental illness. It is more of an issue of lack of life skills, addiction, mental illness, than a desire to harm another human being.”

Social justice and compassion can be viewed as two sides of the same coin. Social justice can be about doing good because there is the idea of the ‘me’ doing a right by the ‘them’. Compassion is doing good because you see everyone as an extension of yourself.

As demand grows for YBB programs, there are many ways to get involved. Currently, it takes about five people donating $15 per month to start a new weekly class. All the teachers are volunteers and most expenses come from the transportation costs to get to and from the facilities. ‘Become a Friend of YBB’ is a campaign aimed at getting an additional fifty friends to fund the current requests for additional classes. “With this community support we would not have to do any fundraising; we could focus 100% on our mission- to serve.” Another popular event, Gratitude in Motion, has Seattle teachers and yoga studios hosting benefit classes around Thanksgiving with 100% of profits going to YBB. My home studio, Bala Yoga hosted an event last year. Other studios include Be Luminous, and Sutra, who will soon be hosting a dinner fundraising event for the organization. If you would like to learn more about becoming a YBB teacher, making a donation or getting involved in this incredible, heart-felt organization, please check out: http://www.yogabehindbars.org for additional information.

For those of you looking to examine the path of compassion more broadly, Charlotte-based Universal Yoga teacher, Mara Healy, shares her insights on practicing compassion off the mat in simple ways in the next blog, ‘Cloning Compasssion’.

by Allison Stieger  

I visited Esalen for the first time in November, 2001. I had recently discovered the works of Joseph Campbell and had been reading a book called “A Joseph Campbell Companion: Reflections on the Art of Living”. Campbell had taught workshops on myth at Esalen throughout the last years of his life, always around the time of his birthday in March. I developed a curiosity about Esalen after reading the book and decided to check it out.

Esalen Institute is a retreat center located in Big Sur, California. It was founded in 1962 and quickly became an internationally-known center for the counterculture shift of the 1960′s and the birthplace of the human potential movement. Many famous and infamous names stayed and taught at Esalen over the years, including Campbell, and I wanted to see it for myself. It was a sort of “bucket list” item for me, and I thought I would be content to go down for a weekend, take a workshop, and be happy knowing I had experienced it once. How wrong that would turn out to be.

I drove the sinuous lines of Highway 1 from Carmel late that Friday night. Thick fog had rolled in late in the afternoon, and it felt like I was moving from the ordinary world into a place of magic, like the journey from a myth or fairy tale. When I’d finally arrived, it seemed as though I’d passed the first threshold on my mythic journey, that I had been tested and found worthy.

The next day, before my workshop began, I rose early to explore the property. The fog had cleared, and it was like I had entered the gates to paradise on that early morning walk. I’ve been to Esalen many times since that first visit, and I’m always sure to be out on a ramble before breakfast on each of my days there, as I always find something new and beautiful to discover on the property. The first thing I always notice when I arrive at Esalen is the sound and smell of the sea. Esalen is perched on 40 acres of land between Highway 1 and the ocean, and the presence of the sea is never absent from the experience there. No matter what my worries might be, the sea always wears them away while I’m at Esalen.

Esalen is also home to an enormous garden, where they grow many of the vegetables and herbs that are served at mealtimes. Seminarians are free to wander the gardens at will, and the tranquility of that walk is extraordinary. I was there in November for that first visit, and it’s still my favorite time of year to visit, as Esalen is also on the migration path of the monarch butterfly. I can still remember the first time I saw a tree on the property covered in millions of butterflies, looking at first glance like a tree covered in orange fall leaves.

My workshop that weekend was on living a mythic life, led by author and documentary filmmaker Phil Cousineau. Phil has become a good friend since that first day at Esalen, and I’m so grateful that he taught me how to leave my unfulfilling work behind to pursue my dreams.

Esalen is a magical place in so many ways, and this was really brought home to me on my first visit. After the day’s workshop had ended on Saturday, I stayed out on the grounds late into the evening and saw my first meteor shower, far from the city lights of San Francisco or even Carmel. I have never had an experience so magical and mythic, reinforcing my notion that I was in a special place, set aside from the cares and troubles of the everyday world.

Once I left Esalen after my first weekend visit there, I vowed that it would not be my last. I had been planning to take a few months off work in the next year to travel in the Mediterranean, and I added Esalen to my plans for that trip. Esalen has many options available to those who want to stay a bit longer, and I applied to be a work scholar, which allowed me to both take a month-long workshop and help out around the property. I selected a workshop on the theme of  “Transitions”, which was particularly appropriate, as I was trying to transition my life from working as a technical writer at Microsoft to working as a mythologist and fiction writer. I arrived back at the property (again in November – can’t resist those butterflies!) and was assigned to work as part of the cleaning crew. I took a lot of joy in cleaning the property. I think it takes leaving a really stressful job to appreciate the beauty of cleaning a toilet, but my satisfaction came that month from cleaning something, knowing that I had done a good job, then leaving it behind in both body and mind when I had finished.

When I had finished a day of work, my favorite way to unwind was to take some time in Esalen’s famous baths. The Esalen property is home to a natural hot springs, and Esalen has a beautiful baths complex, perched on a cliff overlooking the Pacific. The baths are traditionally enjoyed nude and are co-ed, but the energy there is completely natural. I was amazed at how comfortable I quickly grew with my own nudity and the nudity of the friends and strangers around me. Esalen is also home to a wonderful cadre of massage therapists, and there is nothing more relaxing on this earth than getting a massage at Esalen, then soaking in the baths while the sun sets into the ocean.

My month at Esalen in 2002 was truly transformative, and my life changed in some dramatic ways once I had returned home. I left the tech industry behind, went to graduate school to study mythology, and met the man I would marry shortly after that experience. I believe that, had I not spent that time at Esalen, my life would look nothing like it does today, and most of the greatest joys I have now would not have materialized.

There are so many other amazing things I could tell you about Esalen, about the movement classes that are offered daily for free, the delicious food that they serve from their kitchen, the Art Barn where anyone can go if they’re feeling inspired to create a work of art. There is even a school there, and seminarians can bring their children along. I’m already planning my next trip; I want my two small boys to love Esalen as much as I do.

by Ali Valdez  

Happy Easter everyone! I hope you enjoyed your weekend mindful of the miraculous, whatever and however that translates directly to your heart and lives. It seems with some consistently sunny days here in Seattle, the memory of our winter getaway to the Big Island in Hawaii would be faint. But I still can’t shake the retreat—in a good way. Being in Hawaii has two connotations: overdeveloped tourist-laden natural attraction theme park of palm trees and beaches or that of prodigious nature, remote, raw and undeterred by the elements. It is the latter that lures my heart back to Hawaii.

As part of this year’s retreat, we played upon the theme of the elements which are some abundant in their contrast there.

We were in the most undeveloped part of Hawaii built up from the output of lava, a place literally built on fire, yet surrounded by water. The northwestern tip where we were hosting, Hawi, is powered by wind, and being on the sacred grounds of King Kamehameha and his tribal council brought an element of the etheric and mystical.

We practiced two hours twice daily. At the beginning of each class, Liz or I would construct a mandala for the class we were teaching with our daily elemental theme.  They started simple, a minimalist theatre-in-the-round type of setting, some pines, a couple berries and rose quartz. As the collective energy of the group built so did the elaboration of these gorgeous mandalas: flowers, found objects, crystals, wood, stones, etc. 

Mandala means round or circle in the ancient language of Sanskrit and used as a tool for traveling into the subconscious to the larger representation of the universe of cosmos. The Sri Yantra, triangles converging and dividing in all directions set inside the petals of the lotus and surrounded by four T-shaped gates is a recognizable example. Mandalas vary in their intricacy and motif and also illustrate equal distribution and balance.  Plus, they are beautiful. Mandalas are found throughout Buddhist and Hindu traditions but are also prevalent thematically in Christianity in the use of stained-glass windows, designs and symbology, e.g. the Celtic Cross. They are seen as well in other traditions. As a point of contemplation, they are powerful tools for cultivating dharana, which in Sanskrit means concentration.

There is no way to list them all here in the blog, but highlighted are an assortment of mandalas that we prepared and listed in line with their element. I hope you enjoy looking at them as much as I treasured making them. We will be returning to the Big Island again in February, 2013. Personally, I cannot wait! And who knows what we will think of next to inspire and delight!

by Ali Valdez

Today’s modern lifestyle is one of consumption. We overspend, overbuy, overeat, overtweet and laboriously work our thumbs ‘liking’ the banal and commenting on whatever Facebook post strikes us momentarily out of unconscious social patterning enough to warrant our reading. Don’t get me wrong; technology is great. And, really, who doesn’t love stuff? Lots of stuff? Even more stuff? If your hand is raised like mine, loud and proud, that is perfectly okay. Here is what I have been reflecting on over the past few months.

When I purchased my first home, it was a modest quaint little cottage. I was twenty nine years old at the time and wanted to achieve this goal prior to turning thirty. The transaction the day of closing left me a bit sweaty but at the end, I got my key and then there it was: all 724 tiny square feet of splendor, sweet yellow cedar siding, a brilliantly stout Holly tree on the left cobblestone pathway and crown moldings galore. The house sat dead center a quarter acre (railroad lot) which was perfect for my green thumb and had a front patio that was almost the size of the house itself. In hindsight, the place and its proportions were comical. My father dubbed it ‘the postage stamp.’ The living room was also the dining room with barely enough room to put my couch. Having been an avid art collector when I lived in San Francisco and Manhattan, the movers filled up my entire living room with just crates, and more crates of art. The step saver kitchen had a four foot nook which was also the ‘office’ and storage—two drawers and that was all you got. By all considerations, the bedroom was massive with one wall flush with closet space—

because coming from New York and the Sex & the City era, you can imagine the girl had some shoes with her.

I could get in and out of my queen sized bed on EITHER side and could put up an armoire on the opposite wall. The bathroom was also the laundry room with a closet tucking away the washer and dryer with not one inch to spare so luckily, I never lost a sock.

This move would mark the last time I could borrow a friend’s Suburban for the afternoon and a couple manly men to get from location A to B. Heck, my corn field out back was larger than my living room. So what happened at almost 4,000 square feet later?

Well, the American Dream, I suppose.

Less than twelve months in to my perfect little place, birds chirping at my kitchen window, freshly picked herbs on the counter, the opportunity came to purchase a very small three-bedroom house with a lovely waterfront view, checking in at 1,200 square feet. In my neighborhood this is still considered a ‘cottage’. Two weeks later, I went from yellow to pale peach colored cedar siding, spaces that differentiated living room from dining room, kitchen from office, etc. The patio off the dining room was lovely and I was happy there. But now I was faced with a dilemma that grew as did my appetite for the larger home, a bigger slice of the pie that is the American dream: how to fill all those empty rooms. My first clue should have been if the room is empty, then most likely I do not need it. But instead, I fashioned a yoga room with zofu cushion, a mat, and some candles. Within two years, I was outgrowing my second house and scouting for my third.

My third house was just two blocks up but was two stories; my rambler days were over. Come to find out this sucks when you have to shuttle up your groceries, and throw down your laundry. It has four, possibly five bedrooms, two living rooms, three bathrooms, dedicated laundry and a library. It also had the coveted lake, Olympics, Space Needle and Mt. Rainier views to which I was counseled that I would be a fool NOT to buy it. But with this logic came more rooms: 3,600 square feet of emptiness.

There is nothing worse than living in a house with stagnant spaces. There just is not enough of me to fill up all the spaces, to consume the full life that the house has to give.

So I bought beds, additional couches, leather club chairs, side tables and decorative durable goods from my travels. By 2006, my tush had so many places to rest in this house it is crazy, yet continually I find myself inevitably restless. To fill the gap, I would rotate which rooms I slept in, which bathrooms I used, which living room to spend the evening working or reading. I wanted life everywhere, no stagnant chi.

In yoga we have a yama called aparigraha. This is non-hoarding of anything that is not directly or readily needed in one’s life. With this, like the Bible and the lilies of the field, comes a trust and surrender that all will be provided as needed. This is anathema to what anything in our Western society would dictate or tender insidiously through the mainstream media. I was guilty as charged.

On Facebook there was a quirky little post something to the effect, “If a woman has tons of cats, she is an outcast. If a man collects millions and sits on them in a bank, he is called a genius.” I don’t do cats, nor do I make millions so I sit somewhere between the extremes of what is the appropriate amount of accumulating.

As I move more into a yogic lifestyle (plenty of ground to clear here, it’s an ongoing process) I opted last year to really parse it down. I furnished a home for a family in need, held yard sales, posted on Ebay, used Craigslist with wanton abandon, offloaded over 1,000 books and magazines. All of a sudden, when looking around, my house returned back to its former self, a shell of now somewhat vacant rooms.

My friends would come over and wonder what was different, why was the space so empty? I love the airiness and openness that having less can provide you. Once again, I have my dedicated yoga room with cross mats this time. I can appreciate the desire to critically observe and define what is useful, what is needed and what can be shared elsewhere.

Perhaps you have had an experience whereby you set off to shop a bit only to return home and find some of the things that in the moment inspired you had already lost your interest. You realize a) it takes too much time to go back and return it (lethargy) b) you have misplaced or did not ask for a copy of your receipt and now you cannot return it (disgruntled), c) you forget about it, let it sit and its purpose is never realized (apathy), d) give it as a thoughtless but convenient gift to some unsuspecting victim, a friend or a loved one (a**hole). It was only when I looked at my purchases in this light that I realized that those are four types of ‘states’ that I do not want to manifest in my life. I needed to apply my yoga as a practical tool on the everyday path to ‘consciousness’ as a consumer and participant in this lifetime. A yoga niyama is santosha, which means contentment in all circumstances, a bit of non-attachment but with gratitude.

My house has blank spots, awkward corners that might see a plant one day or share its energy with one of my daughter’s toys. I have not bought any art in years and still do not have enough space to hang it. If I had my druthers, I would sell most of it and enjoy some clearance on the walls.

Even my cupboards, the shelves under my bathroom vanities are devoid of post-Depression-era stockpiles of travel sized shower gels and shampoos. I am doing my best not to indulge in the unnecessary, but practice my mindfulness prior to making it to the check-out station.

I still have my vices, I think but I really cannot think of them like I used to. Outside things don’t give me contentment, they burden me with obligation. As my teacher says, “You do not own things; your things own you!” Things require maintenance, batteries, to be dusted, washed, put back, brought out. That requires time, energy, and desire, three things I do not wish to squander. Today, I am still in my home and I am tremendously grateful for the stability and grounding it has offered me, my daughter, and those who have come along the way in need of temporary shelter. My life is simpler, the place less cluttered, my bank account sagging and empty. Yet even in this emptiness of accumulation, the pure paucity of it all, somehow these four walls are just now starting to feel like a place I would call ‘home’.

by Ali Valdez

On some level, looking at the heap of spoils stuffed in red and violet colored Tinkerbell bags, the originally-slated ‘Karma & Accumulation’ article could be appropriate and timely, but it will have to wait. After all, it IS Valentines’ Day.

In the midst of controversy confronting Westernized yoga on every level– safety, competency, morality, the ethics and business of yoga, I wanted to write a lovely, little Valentine as a thank you to my teachers: the good ones. Teachers take all shapes and sizes, often times the best ones don’t walk around with the moniker of ‘TEACHER’ around their necks. But sometimes, they do.

When I was in high school, I spent a good portion of my time living with my father. He was obsessed with films, back then beta and VHS. We had a full wall of bookcases with movies. All types of movies. Bootlegs, you name it, we had our own Cineplex in the comfort of the living room with a TV that would make a little trembling Carol-Anne come to the light.

One evening he brought home with curious excitement an old British film (1967 was ‘old’ to me) starring Sidney Poitier and the “most amazing vocals” on the cover track by a British pop-phenom named Lulu. To Sir, With Love, film and song remain on the top of my favorites’ list. In this drama, Poitier is assigned to teach in the troubled East End slums of London, taking on an unwelcoming and savory lot of thugs and tarts, young men and women, a lost generation making all the wrong choices and likely to go nowhere fast (still love you, Morrissey!).

Poitier maintains his cool although they taunt him and test his resolve at every turn. His job is to stay the course and not let them break
him. As a teacher, he is wise and adaptable enough to know that the lessons
they most needed to learn are those about human dignity and respect, and that
this starts with self-respect.  In the end, they see him as a teacher who touched their heart and their lives by his conviction, staying true to his values. Poitier does not succumb, he stays firm. His values uncompromised even when tested. He knows when to emphasize and when to refrain.

His art of teaching was the art of observation and timely reaction. Above all else, appropriate action, something the yoga community has been scratching their head on of late.

I have been blessed with excellent teachers in my life, the lovers of my mind, the seers of my heart, and the believers in my potential. The delivery of their message, the push for excellence was at times extreme, but only because of their desire to offer me everything that they could to make me the best that I am. Teachers are the true prophets, they peer through the worldly veneer of flesh and bones with the lens of God, not seeing the world with human eyes, instead knowing deep within the journey of the hero, their student, and aiding them in their development and awakening to their dharma, or life purpose.

True teachers don’t drive their own agenda, overt or surreptitiously which is why I am always a bit leery of the Kool-Aid crowd insisting against the vehicle of their own critical thinking that what ‘guruji’ said MUST be a
truth on the level of absolutism. So seldom is this the case.

Instead the true teacher understands the tender clay in their hands, can see the final product before pressing into its side, remains
committed and impassioned to see the project through. The true teacher
profoundly takes care to handle it with the highest level of accountability.
The teacher or guru of old accepts the student as a give/take. The student
comes bearing everything they have, mind, body, spirit and means. In turn, the
teacher must commit to care and provide for their student with unconditional
love and servitude, providing for their every need throughout the course of
their life. The burden of responsibility resides on balanced scales. Serve and
be served. Love and be loved. Teach so others may be taught. This is the wish
from my heart for my own teaching, and to all those teachers who are making the
leap to live in humble service to others.

Imagine devoting your life selflessly to the service and development of others? I did and although my path is still a bit bumpy, there are bills to pay, a child to care for, politics of yoga studio owners, the incessant need for chocolate chip cookies when I am on deadline, I wouldn’t change it for the world.

So this year, I want my Valentine’s Day wish to be a simple gratitude to those beautiful souls that have been my teachers in all their forms, each reaching me at the time when I needed their gifts the most.

Alma Hannah, Michael Takagi, the beloved and now deceased John Hoge, Janaki Severy, Steve Cook, Shirley Mullen, Heather Spears, thank you so much for the interactions, the lessons of advocacy, the removal of the ‘blond wig’, and ignition of fire into my belly.

Dear Valentines of the yoga world, sincere gratitude to the lovely and virtually perfected Kathleen Hunt, the extraordinary and insightful Edward Clark, my sweet and so missed Vincent Tam, and to universally brilliant Andrey Lappa, the dear yantra-clad Ukrainian teddy bear that works you like a Romanian gymnast in the 70s, but knows you are worth the reprimand because the results are in the post-effect.

And, of course, the loveliest little Valentine and teacher anyone could ask for, one birthed from their own belly, my baby Bunz who teaches me patience, forgiveness, humility and svadyaya (self-study) every second of every day.

Wishing you all a day of light, love, and acknowledgement of those that inspired you on your journeys.

Love never reasons but profusely gives; gives, like a thoughtless prodigal, its all, and trembles lest it has done too little. ~Hannah More

By Ali Valdez

They almost did not believe me Wednesday night. We gathered for our Week III get-together, fresh off an emotionally exhausting ten days. Week I was reasonable: watch what you eat, avoid eating meat and processed foods. Not that it was easy; our habits look like bears overnight at a litter-strewn campsite. We kicked off the event with bringing awareness to the body, the state of the vehicle which drives the
spirit. Week II, we took the spirit head on in the form of our pasts, now Week
III we utilize insights to grow past these pesky habits. 

“We are going to learn about our senses and how they expose us to input from the outside world.” Taste, Hearing, Sight, Smell and Touch. Because we had already had two full weeks of putting the proper fuel into our gas tanks and had mined out those parts of our lives that to date have systematically caused us blockages and limitations, it seemed like a good time to peel away the veneer and superficial comfort our senses give us when we are dealing with these challenging chapters.

So I proposed taking them away. Although there was not going to be a trip to the sensory deprivation tanks, there was a modest list of to-do’s. Sight=Do not look at yourself or your reflection (not even while putting in your contacts).  Taste=Avoid anything rajasic, eat a pure and Sattvic diet. Hearing=No music or television or films for the next week. Smell=Do not use perfumes or scented creams or oils on your skin. With touch I did not take away, instead we focused on connection: touching through handshake or embrace with the silent intention ‘loving kindness’. Everyone liked the one hour massage mandate. One of the tasks is to hold someone without talking for at least five minutes a day. That one I would reconsider in hindsight. I came to the observation that perhaps not everyone had someone to hold. For me, I have a snuggly little Bunny, eager for my affection. If worse comes to worse, Mom is in town. I could wrangle five awkward minutes if need be.

TASTE: Anything I ask of the others, I also need to honor. Unfortunately, I started my sensory deprivation at the Seattle-Tacoma airport on my way to a series of workshops.

My first word of caution to Team 40 was to plan your meals in advance

.
In a rush, I failed to get any food in my stomach prior to leaving. For some
God-forsaken reason, Alaska Airlines has moved a portion of their fleet to the
further-afield N gates at the airport. So once I make it to the N gates, I am
powerfully reminded that I have a four hour flight and a gurgling stomach and
the choice of  Burger King (definitely NOT allowed on a 40 Day Challenge in any of its gastronomic manifestations, the Whaler included!), Starbucks, or the Great American Bagel shop. How long was this day going to be? I ordered a tuna sandwich on a bagel. I regretted doing it but knew that I could not get through the day without something to eat. I acknowledge I was at a crossroads and made a decision. There was restraint and rational consideration, even if the outcome was not ideal. After that, I owned this challenge- in some areas—plus or minus a chocolate cookie and a scone. Here are my results:

SMELL:  I sprayed perfume once on accident- oops! Just
a bear rattling his snout in an open can of baked beans.

HEARING: A challenge like this is best served at home where the environment is contained. After four days shuttling people back and forth from the Houston International airport, driving between two yoga studies, my teacher’s cottage and my sister-in-law’s where I stayed, I clocked over 760 miles in four days. Imagine no music or radio for 760 miles. That’s A LOT of soul-searching as each half of the round trip found me alone looking out on vast stretches of highway. Add nine hours of flight time sans iTunes and I feel like I should win a prize. Interesting observation after every retail or restaurant visited,

I become convinced that “Oh What A Night” is quite possibly the most ubiquitous radio track of all time.

SIGHT: Piece of cake. I had done this experiment after I graduated from college going two years without looking into a mirror or at myself in a reflection. I was going to see a movie to kill some time before my teacher flew in, but realized that was not an option and turned around.

TOUCH: Not one to indulge in sentimentality,
I actually found the touch assignment a delight. Although I did not have my
daughter nearby, my niece & nephew whose father is en route to Afghanistan,
were eager to cuddle up. I also had about fifty hugs to give out in Houston to
the workshop attendees.

But it can’t all be rainbows and unicorns. Even the oldest of grizzly bear emerges from the woods, wanting in on the action

. This exercise brought back two old and unwelcomed habits: 1) Shopping, and 2) Peeling the skin from my lip. Five pairs of shoes (guilty conscience a bit lazy but still I managed to return one pair). Peeling of the lip, well I am still watching that one. I was already eliminating food categories out of my diet, and by week three, I was actually very content saying no to the usual indulgences.

The mermaid logo on Starbucks’signs were no longer luring me in like the song of the sirens.

The long unchanging corridor of 518, 54 North and the 8 Beltway become contemplative and my mind found the silent surrounding sweet.

It took courage as I tend to avoid measuring any success in terms of the scale, but
alas, one beckoned me on my sister-in-law’s floor, a bit lonely and kicked into
the corner of the master bath. Five pounds! I thought things felt a bit looser
right out of the dryer. This time I could slide in an ardha padmasana with the
other leg behind my head. All of this is exciting stuff, keeping me motivated
to finish 40 days strong and embrace my new lifestyle permanently.

What thrilled me the most was for the first time seeing old patterning and recognizing it at its root. Through the program, I had a path and timeline that put context around that impulse. I could be grateful that now I have the tools to overcome that tendency. It no longer served a deep-seeded emotional something locked down somewhere inside me. For once I owned the shoes; the shoes didn’t own me. And as for the three pairs that I kept, well they are going to help keep me marching into the direction of my fulfilling my goals.

You just might ask if I can make choices that guarantee my success. And I just might
answer “Does a bear s*** in the woods?”

By Ali Valdez

For those of you outside the yoga community, at some point you have heard of the significance of 40 days. Jesus Christ, Buddha, Muhammad, Noah, and other spiritual leaders have as part of their life narrative a journey into the wilderness, the desert, the heart of darkness. In this time they are faced with their demons and make a  life-altering decision, the bodhi tree moment, whereby they emerge triumphant, self-determined and enlightened.

Here is the modern day version of a 40-Day challenge in yoga-speak:
Our 40-Day challenge is a breakthrough program designed to radically change your body and awaken you to a new way of being. This means as little as yoga every day for a block of days, to diets, insights into meditation and journaling. Yeah, we’re doing that—and more.

Not sure who wrote this exactly, it came on the marketing collaterals for my program from the studio where I am being hosted; however, what I can say it that the inspiration behind it pre-dates any 20^th century American ideal of beauty or athleticism.

It was important to me to formulate a plan of my own, not going to Barnes & Noble and downloading someone else’s idea of transformation. Instead I went downstairs to my library, wall to wall books, thousands of them to glean my inspiration. My library is the map to my inner self, a direct reflection every time I go to the garage of what is
registering in my spirit. So I pick one or two out: holy texts of many cultures, the traditional yogic texts, science & diet books, some poetry and mathematical publications, too.

How could I create something or attempt to,
using the wisdom of the past and the technology and scientific, psychological and archetypal insights of the present?

I will share with you weekly my own accountability with the program. What is working and what is not. More importantly, what am I learning about myself. As a yogini, it is hard to publish my shortcomings but that is part of the honesty of it all. I have two dozen people getting in the weeds and getting ugly alongside me. So here we go.

My program does not tell people what they need to transform, but allows them to choose the kind of person they want to be. It is designed to fundamentally break down, layer by layer, the behaviors that rise to the surface and where the gestalt takes root. Some are governed externally, social conditioning, family views, others are more internally focused patterning from karma sometimes knowingly, sometimes in a latent or subconscious way. Other ones are archetypal in nature. We start by taking bite sized pieces, savor the insights they provide, and sense our way through the many layers.

The goal is for someone to get to the precipice and ask:

How did I get to that place- where smoking engenders
confidence, where drinking inspires courage and eating poorly, quickly and without compassion gifts us with comfort?

One year I was on the committee at Microsoft for volunteer events. We opted to remove blackberry bramble (a plant not indigenous to the Pacific Northwest but you would not know this by its profundity). We were told by the resident weed puller, tarped in rainproof
hoods and ankle deep in mud soaked wellies, that the sugary bulb at the base of
the blackberry has to be completely dug up to starve the plant, otherwise it
continues to take over and smother all the other native plants.

So we dug, thorns and all. No superficial cutting back, no playing it safe with this horrible stuff. Blackberry bramble is stiff and sturdy like an iron ball with spikes forged to chains used in medieval times. The thickest garden glove is immune to its tacking, sticking and pricking. The bulb is always a bit deeper then you’d like.

You cannot really extract it with your hands, even when the soil is moist. It takes time, tools and some elbow grease.

The good news it, they eventually come out and the cloying burdensome bramble begins to go away, allowing the native plant, the true self or “atman” to bring this ramble full circle a chance to access the sunlight, drink in the rain and have a chance to grow.

My brambly bits? In the first twelve days, I have found that my greatest challenge is slowing down and self-care. I started the program thinking , ‘Wow! I am going to get up and hit this one hard.’

Lesson #1: Chances are what you lead with is not what you actually need.

So I have been getting up early, focusing more time on the meditation, sitting in silence, just breathing. I want to do this every morning, and know I should, but somehow my iphone and computer have come first. This is my first habit I am trying to break.Since when should Facebook get more face time than my meditation self-time?

Second area, slowing down my eating and eliminating meat from my diet (still some seafood and dairy, but drastically reduced). Being more mindful in my eating, telling myself no to every impulse that falls my way, and taking time to really enjoy and savor my
food means something. This is something I know and used to adhere to but lost
my footing in the midst of my professional life and my role as a new mother—the
equivalent of the Monopoly get-out-of-jail free card for martyrs.

Lesson #2: Be austere and try to boil the ocean on eliminating all devilish food habits, you are the one that gets burned.

Third area. Controlling my language and its volume. I am a yogini, shouldn’t I be doing my malas and gently tapping a tambourine in bound lotus all day? Apparently not right now. Frankly,I love vipassana; I welcome silence. I wish I had less opinions and less tendencies
to vocalize them. For some reason, from a very early age, profanity snuck into
my vocabulary like a rat in the attic. At times it  goes quiet, you think it has gone, but
inevitably it scurries around again. Also, I get so disappointed at myself and
my heart aches when raising my voice. Sometimes, my voice will disappear as I
attempt to raise it, just drops like a teenage boy going through puberty. On
that rare occasion, sadly, we Spinal Tap it. This is mostly around my daughter
going nuts and not listening to me. I start with clapping. One loud clap. This
seldom works so not sure why I still do this. I don’t know why the person I cherish the most, who also lacks all ability to practice silence, is the one that gets the occasional, “Please be quiet!” Ironic, since I am hardly modeling ‘quiet’ when saying this. Or my favorite, “Please stop that!” I love that I can still remember in heated
moments to use the word please. It is a dainty courtesy word that really carries no meaning if its delivery is not contextual. And I sincerely mean please because I don’t want to raise my voice.

Lesson #3: I have complete control of the tone and not just the vocabulary. Not to mention, I also have control of the spirit in which any comments are made, notably any negative comments about me or others. When in doubt, be silent.

What I learned this week is the daily yoga is unfolding in unusual and rewarding ways. I am trying to enjoy the snow and not worry about the many ways it impedes my task list today. I stocked up at QFC for the snowmageddon with intelligent organic and healthy choices. Now it is time to grab a snuggle with my daughter where no words are
required – just sweet hugs and simple gratitude that I survived to live another
day and the slate is clean for getting it a little more closer to right next
time.

It is 3:47am and I closed out the last year with a complete
meltdown from my daughter and a restart on the year with a midnight raccoon visitor
that has been seen crossing over my skylight. It seems my New Year starts out
with a bang, or a scampering, in this case.

Hope everyone else’s new years’ started off better than
mine. I think of the change of the new year as a chance to reflect on the past
year and what could the future year hold for me. Inevitably, I default to the
three ‘big’ ideas that seem to top everyone’s list: eat better, more exercise,
and finances. I came to realize that these are never exactly accomplished as
regular behavior for me because they have been treated as external
achievements, rather than internal reflection. In January, I kick off my first
40-day Challenge, and have been spending weeks thinking about what works, “how can you inspire, how can you help people achieve their goals”. I came to the realization through this journey that you can’t, really. Nothing externally will help change what is going on within; myself included.

First round of business: physician, heal thyself.

So let’s get to the heart of things. For me, food inevitably
goes back to one time in my life: when my parents first separated and my mother
had to move us and work a full-time job. For more exercise, well this was never a problem until after I had my child and am frankly too exhausted or cannot afford the additional
daycare for the gym. Lousy Seattle weather, a bum knee, some extra weight and
all my time going towards yoga doesn’t make me, the sluggish Kapha Taurean, all
that eager to go the extra mile on a treadmill or climb a mountain anytime soon.
And finances, well don’t get me started. I always mean well, but my attitude has been a bit anti-establishment.

When you are surrounded by a bunch of type-A tech executives constantly checking the pulse of the stock and their investment portfolios it is hard not to be put off by this obsession with money, lake houses, Lexus’, etc.

Let’s hoard a bunch of cash and when we are seventy and retired, we can start living our
lives the way we have always dreamed- too bad I will need that hip
replacement and will need to downsize our McMansion so I can make it up and
down the stairs. Cynicism about finances, or the assumption that the
hardworking will always have money coming in has seemed to delude the point for
me if not miss it entirely.

Finances for me boils down to one thing:  discipline.

But is it discipline or devotion that takes precedence in the recipe for success? That is a tricky road to navigate in life. Why? Realizing I was working too much after having my daughter, and the toll it was taking on her, I resigned from Microsoft (aka financial
security) and traveled with her around the world doing nothing but connecting, playing and doing yoga.  When I resurfaced, I opted to devote my life to yoga study and teaching people how to teach yoga. Instead of making it what I love to do part time it is now what I am.  Could I not apply that same logic- the devotion of wanting the best life and love for my daughter with the discipline of focusing on my yoga teaching? Discipline and devotion, didn’t Edward Clark talk about that a few years back with regards to cultivating the ultimate practice?

Last night, pre-meltdown, we were playing Connect Four, but her way. Seeing my
daughter counting and making up new ways to play old games really reminded me
why I am here. It is an extraordinary privilege to share your life devoted to
another. But to maintain harmony, it also requires discipline. An equal measure
creates balance, just like the doshas require balance as part of maintaining
natural order.  2012 and this is what I am going to do, inside, to bring forth a set of desired external results.

1) Diet. Recently, I had rented out the upstairs on my house
since we had a busy travel year and I was starting my yoga business full-time.
As such, we got into the dangerous habit (financially and wellness) of eating
out a lot. Plus, no longer constantly being in an electrolyte-draining hot
room, I quit drinking water or any liquids, almost completely, except my new
kitchen-free breakfast on the go, Mexican mochas. Stupid, I know, but it
actually tied eerily well into the gestalt of my family life when my mother
went back to work. By the time she got home, which was late, there was no time to
make food unless it was microwaved or drive-thru and we were still quite young
and not really preparing our own food but sandwiches. Fruit consisted of red
delicious (the least delicious – IMHO) apples, bananas, and oranges.

When going out to eat, I noticed this tendency to order
amazing foods. With no place to bring leftovers back to, I did not want to waste any of it so managed to eat it. I also packed my juicer and my food processor. Solution: Mindful eating. Spending time in Charlotte with Jessie Fletcher from Clear Conscience market showed me how you don’t need much and the non-negotiable choices you make in food cannot be deviated from. I learned so much being with her on so many levels and am working hard to adapt her effortless mindset.

One of my teachers always says appetite is the lie; hunger the truth. He also says you don’t need health insurance; spend the money preventatively on excellent, organic, high-quality foods. Two beautifully wisely stated truths.

Application: Take as much time to eat as you took to prepare. Eat slower, be grateful and acknowledge the work of the creation of the food and its sourcing. Organic, local, etc. those are engrained in my ethos, but the Slow Food Nation concept I somehow lost last year. Now that I have my kitchen back and am traveling less, I will
work towards forming this habit again. Plus, I am conscientiously drinking more
water. The delusion inside? The feelings of my parents’ divorce being processed
through eating food on the go and forming bad eating habits in my early years. The
devotion? My love of preparing, serving and enjoying my food. The discipline? Go slow, enjoy, eat only on need, not on emotional neediness.

2) Exercise (non-yoga). When Mathilde was a baby, this was
easy. I had baby weight and was motivated to lose it. Found love in running
half marathons around the country, and training for marathons. I loved getting
feeling back in my arms after my pregnancy and lifting weights again. Then she
got bored and fussy being in the stroller for long periods of time. She wanted
to start walking but went slowly and soon wanted to be carried back home. Now
that she is five and good at interacting with others, I have to make a
decision.

Excuses, excuses; they are the strange bedfellow of any new year’s resolution, right?

Solution: Alter Schedule to incorporate swimming &weights no matter where you are and what you are doing. Either we take it outside into nature or we carve out time to do it at the gym. It is not going to happen any other way. Travel is the bull that pushes me out of my exercising arena and this is all about discipline because I
know from the past, that I am certainly motivated and completely devoted to
wellness. Application: Set specific times in the morning and make them non-negotiable. Do not allow scheduling or social obligations to get in the way. Since I cannot roll out of bed at 5am and hit the road or the gym due to baby that has to be my meditation time while I can still be in the house. Gym time will have to be mid-day,
either when she is in school or can go to daycare. Five days a week :90 was a
must-do pre 2006. Yoga is not enough for my body as much as I love it and
cherish it. I really love integrating yoga with other pursuits and somehow
stayed with yoga but ditched its compensations. This includes finding this time
even during teacher trainings and retreats. The delusion inside?  My daughter or travel schedule prohibits me from the freedom to do what I need to do for me. The devotion? I LOVE exercising and working out to supplement my yoga. The discipline? I have lost
that under the heap of excuses I have made, so this one for the next few months
will be ALL about the discipline.

3) Finances. Good thing about finances and numbers: numbers
don’t lie. Bad thing about finances and numbers: numbers don’t lie. On the excel spreadsheet, on the scale, on the bank balance; there is no place to run
when examining the numbers because they take the emotion and subjectivity out
of the equation. We tend to run from numbers because they don’t make us feel
good and nothing in society dictates that having less or doing without is ever
okay. Even when I was flush with cash working in high-tech, the numbers never
seemed big enough, because I had magazines and airport lounge televisions
pointing out to me that I did not drive the big Range Rover but only the Land
Rover T-3. My house was okay, but others houses were twice the size, had
televisions in every room, twin sub-Z’s, and four carports. Did you know that
my house actually doesn’t have motion sensor toilets whose seats rise and warm
when I come into a five foot range? I actually have to lift my own toilet seat
in my own home. What was my problem? I buried the hatchet on these types of
attachments as they are God knows, completely superficial and an easy veil to
remove once you become a full-time yoga teacher. Ha ha, actually the veil is
just torn off like an industrial strength Band-Aid. Solution: Say goodbye to all those magazine subscriptions and avoid the malls at all costs. I have a library floor to ceiling full of design and fashion magazines. I recently parted during a relocation from New York to San Francisco with every edition of Vogue from 1980-2000 (the archivist in me cringes at this fact). I never want or desire until I see and the
inculcation of luxury goods in the plethora of catalog drops in my mailbox and
the prodigious subscription base of design and lifestyle related mags really
wastes my time. What used to be relaxing and stimulating to my creative mind
quickly became a “must have” mentality. Once an avid art collector and
perennial clothes’ horse, I have stepped away from those indulgences. See? Even
I am making progress.  Application: No visits to the mall, no late nights online shopping (I don’t do this at all but thought it was worth a mention for those that do).

But don’t deprive yourself. If your expenses are in line with your life purpose and vision, then consider investments as being made in yourself and your life and not simply in your bank
account. They will reap a return on investment in their own way, and not always financially but in ways that will encourage the right way of living for you and your goals (dharma goals, that is).

The delusion inside? I need more; there must be more to feel complete. The devotion? Because I am committed to my vision and my purpose and value my own time I  willingly make lifestyle and purchasing choices that support and sustain my goals which also includes providing for my daughter. The discipline? Really, no Lululemon, weekly pedicure and massage!? $250 per week times four equals $1000 per month, or $12,000 per year. Again, math and those pesky numbers.

Summary: Without a vision, a deeper inner knowing of who we
are and what we are here to accomplish, there is no way any goals can be set
that will stick and have true impact. Instead let’s see who we are and put it
on paper and understand the places where we need to cultivate discipline vs.
nurture our devotions.

We are not what we say we are, but simply what we do.
Practice creates mastery.

We are also human, and need to be gracious and forgiving of our faults. Hard-ass has never worked for any new years resolution strategy I have ever heard of; why start now only to fail later?

Sometimes we let external circumstances dictate or overly influence the flora of our internal worlds. That is the #1 thing we should all set goals to eradicate. How do we do this? We practice our yoga. We sit in devotion, either in prayer or meditation. We spend a balanced amount of time in nature, caring for our bodies. We devote our time to those we love that serve that higher goal in us and say goodbye, compassionately, to those that do not. Reclaim your time, reclaim your mind, and what can one NOT accomplish in 2012.
Happy New Years, everyone!

By Ali Valdez

My life has seen its share of miracles, my memories seasoned with such abundance and blessings too numerous to count. Recently, I was struck by how much of this out-pouring of blessings found their incipience while I was either short-staying or vacationing in Hawaii. My times on the big Island and Maui have been a time of celebrating friendships, and many major milestones in my life and those I love: I have witnessed engagements and weddings of my
dearest friends. I have been with my friends while I have finished my first
novel, was inspired to conceive my first child, and now I return to share the
gift of Hawaii’s natural beauty as the background for what matters most to me
in my yoga practice: the inner world, the seated practice.

I was recently flying cross-country and saw the United Hemispheres magazine featuring Hawaii. It is not uncommon, if not really the default winter cover article, for any domestic airline that runs flights across the Pacific to the speckled volcanic masses called the Hawaiian Islands to pay favor to its awesome natural beauty. So I won’t bother you with that. The inner beauty of the island speaks ample volumes too. As I am on the verge of going back, this time for contemplative practice and to share with others the joy of the deep, richer fruit of the yoga experience, it is hard not to recall all of the blessings that have come into my life as a result of my work and comaraderie on the island.

It is oft cliché to see the American family packed up and ready to get their suntans on. Bobby & Susie, the tokens of the stereotype nuclear family of four boarding the plane full of eager smiles.

The Tommy Bahamas shirt on dad, mom in Lilly Pulitzer, the cute boy & girl laughing abundantly at the beach under the warm-wind palm leaves. This was my ‘idea’ of Hawaii, a vast over-commercialized island Disneyland of Macadamia nuts, Bubba Gump’s fried baby shrimps,  and plastic leis. As such, I avoided Hawaii for many years, opting for more lavish and exotic authenticities- Bali, Costa Rica, Thailand, the South of France, etc. — but not so much now; at least not exclusively.

Hawaii is an amazing fix for those with less time to bandy about, and as I have learned, a place where my heart has been humbled, time and time again, and my view on life newly inspired.

Paradise takes time to travel to, fortunately Hawaii does
not. From the Pacific Northwest, the flights are of nominal distance, reasonable
price, and most of the carriers provide a quality and relaxing experience.
Since I have typically traveled with friends, we have hours to play cards,
Scrabble or just rest up because as soon as we get there, we will be getting
ready for some serious yoga, fun in the sun, and lots of time in the water. I have
been to the islands on shared flights with many dear friends;

admittedly, we are the new Bobby & Susie!

Hawaii still holds mysteries where the tourists don’t go. I have spent two of my trips to Hawaii in Maui living with locals, once for two weeks with my friend Christine, and another living for a month in Maui working on my book and meandering the island in the locals’ fashion with my friend Claudia.

There is a healthy amount of yoga and a rich yoga scene on
the islands. This time, since I am hosting a yoga retreat with my best friend Liz
Doyle, it will be an excellent opportunity to take turns teaching and taking
yoga for the week we are there (February 22-29^th, 2012) in the privacy of our own green-certified luxury boutique hotel  where we have the opportunity to create the
most conducive environment to yield extraordinary results for our guests.

Being in Seattle, I love mountains and water in close proximity and the islands have this in spades, plus the black-sanded beaches from all the volcanic activity and other natural beauties to behold. Hike,swim, snorkel, windsurf and golf all in one day if you desire.

The quality of the food and access to some many exotic fruits and fresh seafood is an inspiration. Unlike Europe, I never feel unhealthy or over-indulgent eating in Hawaii. Although I am only human…

Smoothies in the morning, fresh caught fish in the evening, salads throughout the day and the occasional –oops! — macadamia chocolate treat.

The aloha spirit is contagious. Friendly faces, the sweet breeze, the smell of plumeria or pekoke all evoke a natural sense of calm and tranquility. Hawaii is extremely conducive to contemplative practices, notably meditation. It is through meditation that I was able to use
the totems of nature and the earth’s elements to connect to a more intuitive side. The inner beauty of me is brought forth on the island in ways difficult to articulate. From making connections about the future of my friends, to envisioning my beautiful daughter coming into this world, my ability to get to my roots and work my way back up has offered alarming clarity and motivation to take action in bold and rewarding ways. When working on my novel in Paia, I actually wrote better, produced more, mined organic interconnections within the characters more intuitively than when I was at home pounding away on the keys for days on end under inhuman self-set deadlines.

The words had poetry, came naturally, felt pleasant to bring forth.

Often times in yoga, we speak about rasas, the intentions of
our actions and thoughts. Hawaii is a destination at this moment in time that
has every year, millions of visitors actively cultivating the rasas
of connecting to nature, taking care of one’s self, stepping away from a world
seething with stress, to reconnect within. The tourist aspect of the island
(although not being  idealized in this article) supports the premise of sending out the intentions of visitors enjoying their stays and returning again and again to escape the external illusions of the daily rat race, and instead find that ‘novel-writing’ flow in
whatever it is that is most meaningful to them.

As we begin looking forward to 2012, may you find your island, taking time to enliven and nurture those parts of you that are often neglected but can bring out your best when you take time to slow down, self-reflect and take care of yourself.  Hau’oli Makahiki Hou!

More details on the Inner Work for Outer Joy: Cultivating a Practice with Purpose February 22-29^th, 2012 on the North Kohala coast of the big island, please
visit: http://www.sattvayogaonline.com/travel-adventures/hawaii-2012