Overcoming Limitation: That Which Needs No Definition

The other day I was accused of not being in alignment with yogic philosophies after channeling a dharma talk about overcoming duality. I was approached in a way as if I should be ashamed for what I had said. It really got me thinking about the constant web of illusion the mind attempts to ensnare one in on at any given moment. The illusion that there is a "right way" and a "wrong way" to be. It really got me thinking about the indoctrination of guilt.
Guilt is an emotion that can stifle the creative energy of a human being. Guilt is crushing to the individual, as it can be translated that if one is different, they should feel guilty. If one is expressing their truth and it is not in line with the widely accepted truth of the mass indoctrination, they should feel guilty. It is quite suitable that guilt and moral obligation seem to be the negative undercurrent of all religious dogmas.
As a teenager, I began to perceive my own emotional turmoil around feeling unworthy. I noticed how often I cut myself down. How often I felt unworthy of being successful and would oftentimes sabotage myself. I noticed how terrified I was to express myself or stand up for myself if I incurred an injustice.
I sought to define myself through certain identities as a way to protect myself from feeling vulnerable and also to justify my worthiness for existing. I identified myself as an artist, a healer, a yogi, a vegan, a traveller....
I recognized after some time that I, as well as my ancestors and probably their ancestors too, have been programmed to feel guilty for even being born in the first place. This creates a need to justify one's existence to feel worthy. This concept serves societal order. It serves falling in line with the status quo and living a mundane life. The very idea that "I am..." fill in the blank, leads to having to conform to those thoughts.
 If one feels "useful," then they are "worthy." From childhood, we are taught to be consistent with our behavior, our beliefs, and our gender, and to uphold these standards through our actions. We are told to stay within the framework of all of the labels given to us. "Ladies have manners," and "Boys don't cry,"are just the tip of the iceberg. From a young age, belief systems are imposed upon us, not intentionally usually, but because this is how things have been for generations. It's called conditioning.
Oftentimes, this conditioning goes without question long into adulthood....we stick to our beliefs and definitions of ourselves like glue, lest we be labelled a hypocrite.
Well, I call bullshit.
"Be consistently inconsistent." OSHO
The moment we label something, we have to maintain that reality. This can lead to forcing a facade of being a certain way, long after that energy is no longer serving our highest good. This creates a disconnect within ourselves and can lead to a lot of suppression of what is naturally arising in the present moment.
For example, I was a vegan for many consecutive years. I wore the identity proudly, and would often criticize others who did not eat a plant based diet. I felt I did good when educating people about the reality of animal cruelty and although it did shed some awareness and help some people, it also isolated me from many of the people closest to me. I wasn't portraying the information in a loving way and the more I would argue my points, the more I entrapped myself into sticking to my opinions as the only right way to be. Then came a time when I started to faint, and became very weak. I tried everything to help myself, and eventually the only thing that helped me was eating some animal protein. I had to abandon the egoic identity of being a vegan to maintain my health and vitality. I felt like a hypocrite.
The moment we label something, we limit it. If I call myself a yogini, I am held to maintaining that image to myself and the world. Due to the reality of human experience and the vast array of emotions that can play out in a lifetime, I may not always uphold this title in a way that is exemplary. Therefore I prefer to not call myself a yogini, nor be called a yogini by others. Rather I attempt to adhere to the science of yoga in a way that is nourishing and allows me to blossom as a compassionate being. No need to proclaim something that may not always be true, maybe today I'm a yogini but tomorrow I'm too lazy to practice? Am I a failure because I didn't do my pranayama? Am I failure because I didn't adhere to the ethical rules perfectly?
To expect consistency in ourselves and others seems to be a reasonable request, but if examined a little bit deeper, one can see how it can create undue pressure on ourselves and the ones we love to fulfill expectations. For example, it's like being in love. For many years two people may be deeply in love, if that truth changes for one of them, it is their right to express this shift and implement a change in the relationship. If the person experiencing this change does not embrace this shift because they are holding themselves to always being consistent, they may stay in the relationship for years to come, long after they are ready to move on. This is not only stifling to the individual experiencing a change of heart, but also dishonest with the other person. To say be consistently inconsistent is much like saying- be free to be who you are every single day, and know that who you are today very well may not be who you are tomorrow.
Each day there is an opportunity to change our mind about how we feel. There is an opportunity to shift our perspective and shed old belief patterns. To give ourselves this freedom also implies that we have the same compassion and acceptance of this truth for others as well.
It is a natural human tendency to want to categorize ourselves and others, but perhaps it is something that we can all ideally overcome. A good analogy for this is looking at the night sky. If you look at it from the inside of a box, with only a little peep hole to look out of, you will have a narrow perspective and will only see a small portion of the stars. If you look at the sky from a wide open field, your perspective will be expansive and you can see the full spectrum of stars.
"The barn burnt down, now I can see the moon!" Unknown
Every time we seek to identify ourselves through external circumstances, we are building a box around us. One that does not leave us much room to grow. Just look at house plants. As they grow, the pot they were once in will eventually become too small. If the plant is transplanted into a larger pot, it will continue to flourish and grow. If it is left in the pot that is too small, it's life force begins to wane, and eventually it may die, for what purpose is there in life if one's growth is being blocked by a rigid container?
The rigid container is all of the ways one may seek to identify themselves through strong opinions, labels, and accomplishments.
"Nothing fails like success." OSHO
If our self worth is only based on perceived success, we will surely suffer if that success falls away one day. If our self worth is only based on being "good" at external pursuits, we will surely suffer if one day we are no longer able to perform those actions. Anything that must be maintained can become a source of striving, and striving often times leads to suffering.
The moment we open our hearts to the idea that we are worthy and perfect because we exist in the first place, we become capable of dropping the need to proclaim our identity or maintain a certain image. We become open to accepting the idea that all of life is unfolding in utter perfection, the proof is in the fact that it exists at all. This can lead to liberation from all need to justify why one is "good enough" which inevitably allows for a deeper level of self acceptance of all aspects of experience.
To let go of labels, leads to freedom to be "who" we are in the present moment, without clinging to the past or pushing towards the future. We can arrive fully in the present moment and enjoy what is arising, without trying to change it. Even if a negative feeling arises, we can ride the waves without drowning in them, or pushing the feeling away because it doesn't fit with the image that has been constructed of ourselves. When we allow what is arising to be expressed through feeling fully, that which doesn't serve our highest good can fall away easily, no need for the guilt or pressure to always be the same person the world perceives us as.
As we learn to hold this space for ourselves, this acceptance then starts to occur with all of life. This provides fertile ground within one's heart for compassion to bloom. As we cultivate compassionate acceptance, a deep peace arises. This is the peace that will end all wars. This is the peace that will allow each person to feel love as the backbone to all of life. It starts with our relationship to ourselves, as we are, in this moment, no labels needed.

Unchaining the Spirit

He who has no object to gain by what he does in this world, nor any to lose by what he leaves undone; nor is there anyone, among all beings, on whom he need depend on any object.- 3:18 Bhagavad Gita

Lately I have been feeling more trapped and karmically embedded than usual. Whenever I feel stuck in life, I tend to slow everything way down and reflect on my past.

You can't know where you're going if you don't know where you're coming from. - Bob Marley

In these reflections, I often find my mind wandering back through the travels I did before I had a career, need for grounding at a base, or any concern in the world. During those years, $1000 was enough to fling myself far from my country of origin. I had a passion for experience, to be with nature, to immerse with people from everywhere, occasional insanity, salt water, adventure, and the breath of life.
I went where I was intuitively called, with usually zero preparation, I followed the feeling I received from the Universe.
I find that by reflecting on these past experiences, I am reminded of how powerful and amazing my path has been, which in turn gives me a huge amount of strength to keep moving forward to this day. To know, yes this life is full of suffering, but in the same breath it is full of joy and wonder, and perhaps most of all, it is full of synchronicities.
I'm not only referring to the awesome things that have unfolded as synchronicities, but also the tragedies. The heartbreaks. The ego shattering and rebuilding to rise again as this being I know as myself.
One of the most amazing journeys of my life was to the islands of Trinidad and Tobago.
It was the first international travel I had done without a travel partner, and I found myself in over my head perhaps. I originally planned to fly to Venezuela and get off there and head to Colombia, with a "just in case I'm scared shitless to do this alone," plan b backup flight to Port of Spain, Trinidad, that left 12 hours later.
I boarded my flight in Miami, and watched as everyone filed into their seats awaiting departure. The flight attendants' announcements were all in Spanish. I had traveled through Mexico a few months prior to this journey, and a familiar, exhilarating twinge of excitement arose within me immediately as I tried to decipher the Spanish.
Caracas is one of the absolutely most beautiful places in the world to fly into. Massive jagged green mountains rise up from yellow, sand lined turquoise Caribbean waters. The tragic beauty of the ghetto dotted the hillsides, as I'm sure it still does to this day. The unpainted gray concrete brick in contrast with the deep jungle green of the mountain backdrop was strikingly beautiful.
I disembarked the plane into the terminal, looked out towards the exit of the airport towards the busy and crime plagued streets and decided immediately that I was, in fact, scared shitless and would fly onto Trinidad that evening.
As I was waiting for my flight to Port of Spain, I made a couple of friends headed to different locales in South America. This afforded some small talk about what the hell we were all doing, and they confirmed that my decision to fly onto the Caribbean was a wise one.
As it was time to board my flight to Trinidad, I found myself walking behind a group of ten or more Hare Krishnas chanting the Maha Mantra quietly as they lined up for the same flight I was on. This totally blew my mind as I have a deep love for Krishna and view him as a Divine Protector, always benevolent and able to clear the deepest darkness.
This brought me to a place of comfort and inner knowing that I was not to doubt the perfection of my timing for this journey to unfold.
*****
Before arriving in Port of Spain, I arranged for a guest house taxi to pick me up as it was almost midnight and I had been forewarned that Trinidad was a different place at night. The taxi driver was quiet, nervous almost, and drove me through the center of the city before taking me to my sleeping arrangements.
As I observed the different people in the square I noticed a most interesting combination of women wearing colorful clothing, high heels, with an enviable carmel brown skin tone, out for the evening in large groups. Women selling fried fish and various other street foods. Beggars in rags sitting amongst the groups of women, as if it were staged. Men in American style dress, saggy pants, baseball caps with the tags still on them, deep brown skin. A few Rastafarians scattered amongst the crowd, wearing big turbans around their dreadlocks.
The next morning after eating at, to this day, the BEST vegan restaurant I have ever eaten at, I was wandering around the square I had been driven through the night before. I saw one blonde girl and her Trini friends walking towards me. I thought to myself, "they are walking towards me,"and sure enough they walked right up to me.
They said that I should NOT be alone in Trinidad, then invited me for a beer at a local pool hall. I didn't drink at all at the time, but took them up on the offer (eleven am), and before I knew it,  I was with my new friends, flagging down a minibus on the highway heading south. The feeling I had on that open, unfamiliar road was that of utter amazement of how powerfully I am always taken in by locals when I travel.
The family took me in and upon arrival in a neighborhood south of Princess Town, I was introduced to the entire family. I was a vegan at the time. The grandmother offered me a piece of fried chicken, I hesitated for a moment, then took it graciously and sat with them to eat, somewhat amazed at how the day had just unfolded.
It was an insane set of three weeks staying with this family in the South of Trinidad. The beauty was that of a rose. Mindblowingly radiant coupled with danger at every corner. I partied more than I had ever done and went to beach party after beach party with the family that had taken me in, and many neighborhood friends. At one gathering in particular, a gang fight broke out near us in the crowd, then gunshots were fired and the crowd took off in every direction. Thankfully one of my friends grabbed my arm and guided, or rather dragged me behind her as we ran, to safety.
During my time in the south of Trinidad, I collected many other experiences such as this, which permanently altered my world view for the better.
They helped me be real, compassionate, street wise, and fearless, even dare I say they taught me to take no shit when need be..... I recognized that I am not an invincible being, but rather needed more caution, more intention in my decisions, more self love first. More living my yoga......
I began to understand how powerful traveling alone can be, and further committed myself to finding what I set out for at the conception of this journey on a lonely 20th birthday a month earlier. After all, I was into yoga, hadn't drank alcohol for over a year before the journey, not to mention a vegan, and just felt I hadn't found what I had traveled all that way to discover, about the islands or myself.
I expressed this empty feeling I was having to a Rasta man who had helped look out for my safety while I was staying in the neighborhood at sunset one evening, and he agreed wholeheartedly that I needed to continue on and trust there was more for me.
As we spoke upon this, a beautiful blue and yellow parrot streamed across the sky headed from a southerly direction towards the northeast. We silently made eye contact, knowing this was confirmation, hugged goodbye, and I headed to the grandmother's home and waited for morning to come to catch a bus back north.
*****
I had limited funds and wanted to travel as long as possible as I had no ties, so after arriving in Port of Spain again, I bought a bus ticket for the north of Trinidad. I walked to the city center again, sat down, lit a bedes, and contemplated what I would do for the following two hours before the bus departed. As I was smoking my clove cigarette, a conservatively dressed woman approached me and asked me in an American accent if she could sit down.
I felt warm towards her immediately and said yes. She told me her name was Eden. She lived on the streets as a homeless woman as her family had disowned her. She had gone on a journey to the US where she contracted HIV. When her family found out, they kicked her out. I offered her a clove cigarette, which she promptly took and smoked. She told me that I was out of my mind if I thought I wouldn't get kidnapped traveling in Trinidad alone. She was so firm with me I felt obliged to listen to her guidance.
She suggested I take the midnight ferry to Tobago where it is much safer, had nice beaches and a slow island lifestyle. I contemplated her suggestion, and she asserted to me it wasn't a suggestion but a demand that I must listen to. She then proceeded to escort me down the road to the loading docks where I could buy a ticket for the boat. I secretly named the road "Bum Row," as I had never seen so many people living on the streets in one place in my life.
After getting the ticket to the boat which departed at 12:00 am prompt, Eden and I wandered around, ate spicy Indian food that I bought for us, and talked about our lives. She walked me to the ferry boat that night and wished me so much love. I tried to give her some money which she adamantly refused. We said our goodbyes and she watched me as I walked towards the boat. She felt like an angel sent to guide me.
There were no security guards in sight on the boat. I was sitting by myself waiting for the ferry to pull out of the port when a man walked up to me in plainclothes and showed me his police badge.
My first reaction was to get a bit anxious as I thought I was being accosted at first. He told me there were no security guards on board (which I had been noticing), and said he should sit with me for the ferry ride over and that he would be good company and make sure no one harassed me.
He explained that he was going to visit his wife and daughter in Tobago, which reassured me and I obliged. He ran and bought two beers and some cheese sandwiches from downstairs. (Food I would normally reject immediately.)
As the night wore on we told stories of our life and he continually reminded how he very well could be saving my life right now. All the while, I'm laughing to myself thinking, or am I saving yours? He was obviously trying to make an advance on me, which I calmly declined repeatedly until he left me to sleep in a deserted booth in the empty restaurant.
As the sun was rising, we arrived in Tobago. Green hillsides, marketplaces, and concrete brick houses dotted the hillside. I disembarked the ferry and walked down the bay front to the taxi stand. I saw a red minibus with the number 222 on it, which is my birthday and also the number of synchronicities, so I decided to ride that bus to where it was going.
As I took my seat in the crowded van, I felt a huge sense of relief, and for the first time since leaving Miami, I was able to relax a bit and take a deep breath. The bus had this huge sound system and as the driver took his seat, he selected a track and proceeded to blare dance hall reggae for the entire hour plus ride along the coast.
I remember watching this elderly woman nod her head to the beat and silently rejoiced that I had arrived somewhere with a true island vibe.
We crossed a ridge line and began to descend into a town called Charlotteville, which was the end of the road at that point in time. I nearly wept when I saw the crystalline waters shining down below, green mountains, fishing boats, and as always at these pivotal moments in life, a tangible feeling that God does exist.
I asked the first old man I saw as I stepped onto the small dusty street if he knew of any guesthouses in town for less than $10/day. He smiled and said his Uncle had one up the mountain that I would really love. He then proceeded to take my backpack from me and load it into the trunk of his little car, and drove me up a steep, windy road to a white house on the side of a cliff.
The family that owned the guesthouse greeted me and told me it was $5/day. I immediately paid for one month off hand, not even seeing my accommodation yet. They walked me down the sidewalk past their home, and below me the crystal blue sea shone, so clear I could see the details in the coral reef and the fish swimming around it, even though we were at least 100 meters above the beach.
They unlocked the door to the one room abode, complete with a kitchen, bed with mosquito net, cold water shower, and a deck overlooking the expansive Caribbean sea. I had a wave of total release on many layers of my being. My joy was obvious to the family and they left me to enjoy my newfound space.
I felt battered and exhausted from my time in Trinidad, and proceeded to sleep for the better half of the afternoon.When I woke up, I took inventory of how my somewhat desperate situation had transitioned into paradise found within a period of 24 hours.
I decided to walk down to the tiny fishing village and seek out some food. I navigated the dirt trail from my house, and walked along the coast until I arrived at the main beach that lined the town. My mind was more focused at this point on where the most epic spot to swim in the ocean was, rather than on food.
I sat for a while on the beach and watched a rasta in the distance pull his little boat onto the shoreline. After securing the boat, he walked past me, paused a few feet away from me, and said,"You want to go on a boat ride?!" It felt like more of a command than a question, and I felt an initial twinge of resistance, knowing that I needed to be careful of whom I trusted, I felt into the idea for a moment, stood up and proclaimed,"Yes."
As we walked toward the boat, I read the name of the boat out loud, "Unchain Spirit." I said it again, and the captain (Nigel) smiled and asked me if I had any idea what that meant. Before I had a chance to respond, I climbed on board and we began to navigate our way around a mountain that was protruding through the middle of the bay.
As we rounded the corner, three untouched pink sand beaches appeared along the wild shoreline. Egret birds, albatross, and parrots dotted the sky. Nigel told me there were no roads to the vacant beaches, only trails, not a soul in sight. I was captivated by the beauty.
Nigel stopped the boat and observed me silently, somehow psychically knowing what it took for me to reach that moment. I sat motionless, rejoicing in a way that is far beyond words. Bowing with my entire being to the beauty this life is. Humbled by the unfolding.
****
I view this as a pivotal moment in my life. It was the moment where I knew, beyond any doubt, what an Unchained Spirit was. To me, it was to be the one to set myself free. It is to not let the chains of conditioning, inculturation, expectation, and shoulds infiltrate my highest bliss path in this lifetime, or any other for that matter. In fact, it was to break these "chains" I willingly took on and consciously create and receive my reality.
It was to always follow my heart, despite fear of failure, to always listen to myself despite fear of rejection from others disapproval, it was to keep going in the face of humiliation and shine brighter than the star(s) Sirius within my own darkness.
When one realizes that we contain everything we perceive we need from others, we become free to follow our dharma, our Highest Truth Path. One is able to love without attachment of forever, for the love within cannot be lost when a person exits our life, in fact the depth of healing can awaken even more self love. One is able to trust that no matter what happens in life, we are fully supported, even in the event of death, our journey is synchronistic and perfect.
To be an Unchained Spirit is to be one who flies free with the birds, dives deep with the fish, and communicates intuitively with the ancestors for Guidance. It is to know that the beggar is equal to the sage and to honor the divinity within both and everything in between with equanimity. Equal reverence to all of life, not just what is palatable. To be an Unchained Spirit is to claim one's birthright, which is to follow the love in one's heart, with no exceptions, even if the love is not met,  keep loving, keep blessing it all. This is dharma.
Though realization of the perfection of all of life, oneness is perceived and experienced. There is an utter freedom in recognizing the interconnected nature of all of life.
Through this realization, that everything is truly perfect, all energy is transmuted into teachings, which inevitably leads towards Self Realization, Enlightenment, Samadhi.
Through this one realizes the only chains ever on us, were the ones we placed there.
And knowing we placed them there, they can all be broken in an instant.
I experienced this utter freedom through the medium of travel, but I realize this can be experienced right in my own backyard. It is simply a matter of perspective.
*****
We anchored the boat and swam about 30 meters to the shore of one of the abandoned beaches. We walked barefooted up a jungle trail and bathed in a spring water fed waterfall. After swimming back to the boat and reaching the little village again, Nigel invited me to his Grandmother's for dinner as it was Sunday after all. I obliged and from there the journey rolled on. As it always does.


Itinual Blessings in the name of the Most High,
K

Broken Shoes

To the knower of what is unknown,

To the lover whose seeds have yet to be sown,

To the critic within that thinks my soul it does own,

To the depths of the ocean,

To the ohia's high mountain abode,

I wonder when along the way did the pieces of my heart get strewn,

Across desert floors,

Upon the sand of a million beaches,

At the busted train station on the border of home,

On the border of being alone,

I bow to you,

For the illusion granted,

I recognize now how my vision is slanted,

Acknowledgement the first step,

To venture into what is forbidden, 

To awaken what has been hidden,

To remember the eyes of the woman on the road, 

content with picking tomatoes, 

Even though her life is owned,

Once one realizes nothing is ours, 

Our discontentment,

Our victories,

Our heartbreak, 

Out torment,

Our bliss, 

we can fully let go,

Settle the heart, 

And trust the flow. 

Aho. 

On One-Pointedness

I remember the first journey I made outside of the United States as if it were a long time friend, who every now and then comes for a brief visit in the movie of my own awareness. I travelled through Mexico on a rather unexpected jaunt, on a whim really. From the time I crossed the border, I woke up to the depth of what being alive means to me.
 My partner at the time, Jason, and I, walked across the Mexican border in Nogales. I immediately was excited to smell the smells, to feel the dust that was tossed up in the air from the bustle of the desert infused city on my skin... I was in love with the sounds in the street, and the noticable life, so warm and alive, and not numb, comparatively from the border we just crossed.
After 18 years, it was a gift to finally step outside of what was familiar and realize the being I was told I was, was not in fact who I was, and in fact who was I?
I found myself travelling at night, as the passenger on a bus, mystified by the constellation filled sky. I was uncomfortable as hell, travelling for more than 40 hours, freezing cold, dusty from previous said hitchhiking and sleeping the night before in a tenement apartment yard little Mexico playground in Arizona.... There was a  loud American movie blaring in Spanish on the bus, and I was hungry...let's face it being a vegan travelling through Mexico is about as easy as sleeping in a bed full of fire ants, it can sting at times!
Despite my discomfort, I recognized my unplanned, unannounced vision quest journey had begun....and I was elated. Literally tears were streaming down my face, but there was no sadness, only an overwhelming love for the mystery of this life.
The stars always looked different to me from then on. I began to feel as if I pulsated with the stars, that the stars were within my own being. It was as if some string in my heart that had previously not been plucked, was in perfect tune, and attuned to the moment. I definitely had less than $200, and seemed to not mind.
When i finally arrived at my destination, a surf camp on the beach on a  little estuary off in the Pacific ocean in the state of Tepic, everything was perfect to me...
Everything except the mosquitos and sandflies. La jajenas as the all surfers in the camp called them. They were voracious and loved feeding on my fresh off the boat not yet acclimatized skin. I asked the locals if they were worse there than other places, and as if that was the most hilarious thing they ever heard, they told me yes.
 Around the same time in my life, I had reclaimed a life-times long yogic curiosity and love of practice, and was very dedicated to always taking time to sit in meditation. To stand on my head and let the breath breathe me....I tried practicing on the beach, at the surf camp where I was staying, on the roof tops of old abandoned houses that mashed up in a recent hurricane, as close to the water as possible, with natural oils on to keep the bugs at bay, even in the kitchen, and felt utterly defeated by the onslaughts of bug bites I would get each time I tried to sit for meditation or practice.
 After about a week of being there, a very interesting man rolled up on his bicycle. The bicycle had a cart on the back with the Belgian flag and was carrying medicine for the people of the village. He walked right up to me and introduced himself as Vicente.
Vicente told me he had ridden his bicycle from Northern Canada to Southern Mexico, loved MX so much he decided to stay for a while in a village inland. Before being in the Western hemisphere, he pedalled his bike through India, lived with yogis, and cooked curry and brewed cup after cup of gingery chai made with jasmine tea. We became friends and would blare Bob Marley's album Exodus and cook big pots of food for all of the other people willing to eat.
One day, as I was setting out on my mission down the beach to find a place to practice, he wished me good luck and said he would join me on my mission, smoke his porro, and make sure I didn't get myself into trouble being alone on the beach like a true crazy person, because as he reasoned out,"You don't look like trouble, but you have a way of finding it." (very honestly referring to a scenario I got myself in the previous day on the beach).
 So we walked a small ways down the pink sand and I rolled my straw mat out to begin my yoga practice. Of course, within a couple of minutes, I was uncontrollably itching all of the little stings I felt from the jajenas, (sandflies) and kept interrupting my practice with an agitated, scattered mind over and over to try to shoo away a bug that is nearly invisible.
Vicente took one look at me and rather seriously said,"Hey, I thought you were a real yogi, you cannot even sit through a few bug bites. You are weak in your mind. The true yogi, meditates, even when the bugs bite him. You have to meditate beyond the bugs. You use too many excuses. Meditate beyond the bugs. use them to help you focus "
Upon hearing him say that, something in my consciousness snapped like a dry branch, and a realization beyond words awakened within me. I was agitated that he was saying that to me, but also grateful for someone to tell me the truth. I became determined, not only determined, but angry and ready to try again, and this time, meditate through the bugs. He did not back down, and sat there in the morning sun, patiently, holding space for me perhaps, to realize I was more infinite than I thought.  To show me I was stronger than I thought.
As I resumed my practice, the bugs continued to bite me, but I allowed my mind to become one pointed. Like an archer drawing the bow string, focusing on the target, I became still within, and holding my awareness in one-pointedness, I practiced.
The focal point for me was equanimity within discomfort. To be able to find the effortless effort, even when i was uncomfortable. It was an amazing practice, i still remember it, eleven years later, as if it was yesterday. When i finished, Vicente had already walked back to the surf camp, but that did not matter. I had not even noticed to ask him where he was going. I allowed myself to submerge myself into my own being. I touched the place within that is beyond all sorrow or doubt, and felt the pulsation of all of life within myself.
This was the first time I believe I had an experience of pratyahara, sense withdrawal, in this lifetime. I meditated not only with the bugs, but beyond them. Allowing the bugs to bite me was a practice in unattachment to even my own body. That day on the beach I felt the essence of what yoga is touch my being.
I watched the ocean as my dhristi (gaze point) and the endless horizon as my inspiration. In all of that intensity and beauty, it didn't seem to matter how well I performed the asanas. Whether I balanced or not. What mattered in that moment was that I was alive to feel everything within myself. I was blessed  to be a traveller amongst other travellers, all finding oneness within the open road. I felt completely supported by the Universal Being, to have angels come to me, in disguise as amazing humans, offer teachings, and then just like the rising waves, once again they are destined to merge into the ocean of existence, perhaps never to be seen again in this lifetime.
That afternoon, when I returned to the surf camp, Vicente was sitting there smiling at me. Laughingly he said,"You look more vibrant than I've ever see you. The yogi within you has been awakened!" I sheepishly smiled and asked," Time to make some curry?"
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This experience has set an example for me that I constantly draw upon now, not only within my yoga practice, but also the rest of my life. After all, yoga is life. When I am uncomfortable, and start to get restless and agitated, I remind myself to settle my mind as silt settles in the bottom of a motionless pond. I focus on the moment in front of me, and breathe into myself. I watch the feelings arise within me as if they are waves in the ocean, I realize now that impermanence is the only reliable truth in life, and if I am patient with the process, all discomfort, all perceived suffering, will once again dissipate into the vast and eternal ocean of consciousness within me.

Within that consciousness there is always peace. The yogis describe it as a sorrowless, luminous place. I recognize the awareness within me, is one with the Universal Awareness of all, and through this I am able to let go, to surrender to the flow that is the journey of this lifetime, mosquitos and all.  Namaste xo, K

Journey hOMe

I'm so very grateful to be home again. today was a lovely day, including full trust in the Goddess to even leave St.Louis as the plane was coated in ice and snow had fallen earlier...it started intensely....as the airline workers sprayed de-icer acid (?) it sprayed into the plane about 1 foot form my narrow feet....I cannot even begin to delve into what this brought up for me, and just before energetic collapse by me and said other passengers around wondering if the door will fly open mid flight and we will all fly like birds, our Jamaican (of course had to be Jamaican right) flight attendant comes forward and laughingly, in that Caribbean way says, "Oh that happens when they are new, they dont' know how to spray de ting right." then proceeds to cackle a mad laugh and cleans the not so small neon orange puddle with some club soda and napkins...next, in Houston, an massive Vietnamese man sits down next to me on the plane, and here I am crushed in the corner window seat, finding my small mind wanting to get reactive over his medicine bottle in his jacket pocket pressing into my side, and then I paused the process and softened as I watched him try to pick up the little girl in front of us's I Pod that she had just dropped.....so I bent forward and returned it to the little angel in front of us and then asked him " How are you today," and was met with his story of being a political refugee, he then, takes off his hat (which I had noticed already), and shows me the 'Vietnam Veteran' logo on the strap. As I napped I travelled through a vision of what his life must've been like, and my heart swelled with compassion upon waking realizing that we all suffer, yet at the same time we are all capable of unconditional love, maybe in part to the taste of suffering. As we landed in L.A. , I could tell he was very confused and obvserved him, kindly, ask the flight attendants where his next gate was, b/c he is not used to this travelling, and they bluntly glare at him and offer no compassion and a harsh answer. I could feel the angels working through me, despite my own concerns, and I said, "Come on, let's go find your gate," and we walked over to the moniters and it just so happened our gates were in the same corridor, so we walked together, and to see his smile, over something so simple, my heart swelled with joy that we can choose this...we all have the choice of kindness and compassion for all people, for all sentient beings. Hilariously, on my flight to Hilo some angel from first class sent me a bottle of wine, about 2 minutes after I remembered a flight I took ages ago where a man asked me my name (after overhearing me mention to the person next to me, now all we need is wine! after a 4 hour delay....), I answered kindly, and he presented me with a carafe of wine.....the power of vibrational attraction always amazes me beyond what I can even integrate fully at this point. Each day the awareness grows. As I saw Pele on the horizon I let out a yelp of gladness and instantly almost energetically settled down. I wept tears of gratitude as I got in my little VW bug and breathed the humid sultry air. I have so much gratitude for every moment of my life, which has ineveitably culminated up to this very moment. Aloha Pele, I am hOMe. 

The Art of Stillness

The art of stillness within

I have become aware of my impatience with the process of life over the years. I have realized, within my behavior and way of carrying myself in the world, I have been conditioned, or rather conditioned myself, to need to possess all that is beautiful as my own, to control and "manage" my destiny in ways that are co-dependent and dysfunctional time and time again. Ironically, I have masked this with a consistent yoga practice, lifestyle, and professional life which keep me constantly aware of the present moment at hand in a beautiful way.

 Although this is excellent, when I sit in stillness I feel an overwhelming sadness wash over me, and the mind spirals into corners that can bring me to my knees if I let it. Years ago my Reiki teacher Judy Theiss told me that I would always have a challenging life if I kept running from the issues at hand through various partners, travelling, and sensory indulgent experiences. She told me to, "Stop running away," and "be within my center." I took it deeply to heart, (but did not follow it right away) noting that she was asking me to stay still to process my emotional backlog, as I had just told her that I was heading out on a journey a week from the day far South for as long as I could stay gone.

 Her advice to not run away echoed in my mind as I departed, and I allowed it to simmer in my thoughts for YEARS, no shit, it still echoes. I even forced myself to live in situations that were acutely dangerous for the sake of sitting within my own life and digesting it, not running away, but rather "processing" it as she taught me. Albeit rather extremist to do so. Being told to stop running away by such an enlightened being was by far the single most powerful piece of advice I have received in this lifetime. She was asking me, in a very subtle and profound way, even through the journey, to find and be within stillness, even as the world moved around me. I realized she was not telling me to never go anywhere in my life, but to remain within my center wherever life took me, and move from that stillness. Much like the idea of Samsara, that the wheel spins around and around, but at the center stillness always abides.

 Often times it is seemingly easier to move in the world in a way that is far from center, rather influenced by societal and genetic conditioning. But what exactly was I running away from? I certainly had heard the concept of being "centered," but had no real tangible affirmation of it within myself.

           I occasionally get glimpses of the true nature of reality, but that is beyond words most of the time. More often than not, I feel as if I'm "faking it til I make it," adhering to what I believe is true north for me and also sharing compassion and love with all living beings, as much as I am capable of. You know the holy type, scooping the cockroaches with two pieces of paper and putting them outside, naming the spiders that built their webs in the corner of my porch....not cooking out of pans if meat had touched them ever, offering all of my food to wooden dieties before even tasting it, staying in relationships long past their expiration date b/c I didn't know what to do next or didn't want to hurt that person even though it hurt me more to be with them....doing too many back bends…waking at 4 a.m. every morning to do yoga before I taught all day into the evening (can you imagine how moody I was by the end of the day, I can barely open my eyes before 8 a.m., which is not advisable if practicing ahimsa, nonviolence, is a priority).I could go on and on about the many ways I have thought I was processing my emotions and life and intentions. It is pretty amazing to observe what lengths we will go to, to find a glimmer of enlightenment, or hope...

Something has shifted lately within me though. Suddenly mastering yoga poses does not seem as important as sitting in where I am within them and observing my mind... Somehow within this paradigm I have been "practicing" for the past several years I have made progress, but have an overriding feeling of emptiness and delusion when I sit in stillness to meditate, as all the "stuff" I have run away from arises in my thought stream. My teacher Heather calls it spiritual bypass, where through a few affirmations, a "spiritual practice", some external acoutraments (maybe some fancy yoga pants, feather earrings, the right mala around the wrist....), and countless distractions, one never ventures below the surface…they only take life at face value, oftentimes seeing a division within what is good and bad rather than accepting all experiences as valid, truth revealing unfolding experiences of life as we know it.

 Seeing a division between good and bad, you and me, us and them, is known as dvaita, or duality. When we see ourselves as separate from the whole, we create a sense of disconnection from the vital life force that is always available to us, within us. When one is living in separation, as in thinking they only need themselves to survive, it is quite easy to see others suffer and continue to enjoy life all the while, they could pass by a hungry child with bags of food and not even drop a dime, or a banana.

On the other hand, when one has had a taste of the oneness we all are, how much we need each other in this life, one who has immersed within the inter-connectedness of all beings…. When the compassionate one is faced with a similar scenario, he cannot so easily pass on the hungry child in the street. As stated in the Bhagavad Gita, "Him I hold to be the Supreme Yogi, Arjuna, who looks on the pleasure and pain of all beings as he looks on them in himself." The concept on advaita, or non-duality reminds us that all living beings and matter are interconnected. God is not some cloud in the sky, God is within the hearts of all. We consist of the same essential nature. That nature is pure divinity.

    As I begin to cultivate unconditional love within myself, I care more about others. I have learned it is so important to love people not only in the entry into your life, be it friend, beggar, lover, challenging friend, animal, but also in their exit from your life, or transition of roles, for example, lover to friend, or teacher to student, to student evolving beyond the teacher and teaching the teacher..... Instead of reactivity, where I venture far from my center and run away from myself, essentially, it is easier to be still and respond to life and others when sitting within my center. Why? Because life is effortless if you live in Love.

I realized at some point in my own misery, what I was running away from all this time was the brilliance of my own heart. I have realized, the art of not running away, or being within my stillness as I prefer to call it, is sitting within one's own center, one's heart center.... "For the mind, O Krishna, is restless, turbulent, powerful, and obstinate. To control it, is as hard, it seems to me, as to control the wind." Bhagavad Gita. I get asked all the time by students, how to calm the mind, how to control the mind from wandering late into the night? It is quite simple, breathe into the heart center. Feel your electromagnetic field emanating from the Supreme Self within you. Radiate it outwardly. Let the mental dialogue play itself out, witness it from a place of unconditional love. Sure, by deeply feeling your heart, you will also become aware of the emotional back log as it unfurls in the mind as grief, anger, depression, guilt, fear, but from a place of watchful compassion, witness it.

 It is the mind that wants to run away, but remember the mind is a tool to be used in accordance with the higher prajna, or radiant wisdom that arises through steady awareness.  The mind is simply a mechanism to help you function, the heart, and the citta, consciousness contain this higher  intelligence. To sit in stillness the heart must be in the driver's seat, not the mind. If you let the mind run the show your thoughts will drive you to madness. You'll wake up halfway around the world with the same problems. You'll meet people to play the exact same characters that you ran away from in the first place.

 If you empty the mind enough, and sit with all of the chatter, allowing yourself to be fully in the process, from the seat of the Self within the heart, eventually the dialog and emotions that create that dialogue, will play themselves out. You will be left with utter stillness. Something that can never ever come from outside of yourself until you realize that nothing is outside of you. When you calm the thoughts, what is left is the residual emotions behind them, as you release the residual emotions, what remains is stillness. The heart contains/is the Self, which is also known as the internal witness, or the atma, soul. The heart IS unconditional love, willing to stand beside you in all of the variety of experiences you are capable of in this incarnation. So much so that it will reliably beat every moment that you are alive. When you realize this same internal witness is within all living beings, you realize All is one. Once you have had a taste of this stillness and oneness within your own heart, it will instantly be felt by others. So much so, that your presence alone will facilitate others dropping from the mind into the heart. Be a light unto yourself first. Stoke the fire of your own heart by unconditionally loving yourself and others. Stay still when things get intense, you are strong enough to weather any storm, that is why you are here.  To be within the question of life. To fall in love with the Great Mystery. When you ignite the heart fire remember, this is a light that does not burn out, but only illuminates countless other flames....In Love.

Journey for the Journey...My life on and off the road.

Tales from the Path. Journeys into the unknown with the sole purpose of knowing oneself deeper. These writings are not for the faint of heart, so please shelter yourself if you are not ready. As I have walked in my body, in this beautiful life, although tragically so at times, I have journeyed. I am from a concrete jungle...a polluted, wretched, beautiful concrete jungle where landfills sit the size of pyramids opposite ancient mounds. Atop these ancient mounds the indiginistas (b/c they came up from Mexico) made human sacrifices much like the Aztec, blood being their holy sacrament, they built a mound to touch the clouds just to get a little closer to God, to show him, look at what we are offering you......funny how modern man mirrors this with their skyscrapers...look at what we are offering you dear lord...corruption, disconnection, rubbish, as they say in a land I once knew.....pure Fuckrie! But truly, the metaphor never escapes me. Each time I come home, I see the mounds, I see the landfill and realize in this modern world, at least in this country, although I truly believe it has stretched far beyond, we have been conditioned, or more accurately, brainwashed into worshiping that which is easily thrown away. Look Lord at what we are offering you.......
    I am a rebel at heart, this is unchangeable. My true awakening began one night on a crazy acid trip in Central Missouri. 17. So young, I bought all of my clothes from goodwill, cut them up , then pieced them back together like a puzzle. I enjoyed going to art shows with my model friend, swilling vino and as my usual self at that time, causing a stir, pissing someone off (usually uptight American college age male), and then running out laughing my ass off, tripping over my heels and winking at the door man.... Enblazoned (is that a word?) friends behind me wondering how this girl act so crazy...I realize now, it was my desire to step out of the oppression. It was my desire to run free. To let the breeze blow my hair into tiny dreads and not be bothered to brush it. To stare at the stars all night long on the beach with a lover and feel the breeze cool, but stay anyway b/c hey, we are alive, Give thanks for the breeze! Yes this is how this journey began. This is what propels it still. The deep inner longing to trod deep within the mountains just to sit silently with the tree dwellers and hear their songs. The need to walk so far that the soles of my shoes burn out with holes, and yet I'm still ready to walk some more in my bare feet..... The internal prayer that occurs when one swims in the ocean for hours on end, no fear, just bliss. The desire to sit at the feet of enlightened ones and surrender this worldly illusion.....to drop the rat race.... Immersion. Oneness. Culture. All of this...Joy is what matters to me in this lifetime. This is what spurred this journey. It is no longer separate trips to me, but one journey. I have been journeying now for 11 years on the road. Yes I settle at times, but in my heart of hearts, I am always a wanderer. This is the difference between a tourist and a traveller. A tourist goes for a week, takes a lot of photos, goes to the local trappings in the guide book, and then goes home. Back to hell. A traveller...ah the bliss, a traveller goes for the sake of going. There is no coming back. Only movement, eternally in the flow. No need for a five year plan. As I say, Five year plan, how about five minute plan? How will we know, five minutes from now, you and I could slip into the unknown again. Leaving these beautiful bodies in our chair, as our soul rises above...or is it that we just merge and expand in every direction? To contemplate death is almost unfathomable, and in me, it invokes the urge to be in the great mystery as much as possible in this life. What else do we truly have but this moment? This is what has spurred this journey. I have seen many exit the Earth this year, and I can tell you , this is what has spurred this writing. Yes JAH this is what has spurred this fucking beautiful journey. The great wino Jack Kerouac also helped at bit.
       Yes sweet 17. Rosy plump cheeks, hoop earrings and a big stick of sensimillia. I do not remember how I found the writings of Jack Kerouac, this is perhaps b/c his books found me. On the Road...a crazy book about his real life hitch hikings and train catching across the United States, back when it was still the United States, not the land of oppression and the home of depression.....his crazy adventures of feeling the breeze and sitting with it rather than running back to the comforts of 4 walls, a flushing toilet, missionary style and all those things. When I think back on his books, and his passion for life, and love, and living, tears hang on the brim of my eyelids, and I feel the beat of the open road in my heart. Why? I know why...I remember my journey. The one I shall tell you.