First, I was visiting an ashram and stopped mid-sentence, mid-step when I saw Jesus next to Ramakrishna as part of Paramhamsa Yogananda’s lineage (see for yourself here). Shocked. Confused. A torrent of questions tumbled out. Once I was placated enough to practice, meditating in that room stirred up old hurt, discomfort, even anger and a bit of betrayal. I had work to do.

We might say I lacked resilience. My family labeled it as "too sensitive". Doctors classified it as "imbalanced". Friends said I seemed "lost". All of these labels had a grain of truth, but very little actionable information. If I had known a fraction of what I know today, it would have saved me a lot of pain and shame.

Despite this, I felt HOME. Home in a way I’ve never felt before. Like I belonged there. Like an ache in my soul was (somewhat) (finally) satisfied. Like I kept seeing and sensing… something… out of the corner of my eye, beckoning, waiting… but just out of reach and recognition.

Looking back, the airport was quiet. Customs officers were subdued. And there was a heavy energy. But our first real clue that something was wrong didn’t come until we were in a car heading to Jerusalem. Our driver looked back with wild eyes repeating “things will be okay in the morning” and “no one wants this.” He insisted that we stay inside our hotel once we arrived. As he sped through empty streets, we started searching. What was happening?

There's more to say about the long process of healing. Details will have to wait, but here is the moral of the story: great need has generated great learning and growing. Experimentation and exploration has given great tools. I teach the best of what I know in Inner Sanctuary.

When I was in my early 20s, I sat with a long time renunciate. He told me, “I get the easy job. They…” he gestured to my friends who were hosting him, a couple with a blended family of 7(!!!) kids, “…are very advanced.” He chuckled. I thought he was being funny. Now, freshly married and timidly step-parenting, I agree whole-heartedly.

Years ago, I thought if I diversified my practices, I would make “less progress” with yoga-asana. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Multi-dimensional practice has brought creativity, spontaneity and sustainability.

For me, rhythm is the key. When I have a rhythm for my practices, they flow and fold into one another.

To make the transition and retain the body/mind/spirit benefits originally found in yoga-asana, I had to expand my definition of practice. Once I did that, “the yoga feeling” came from everything. No joke. From walking the dog to learning to snowboard. From studying ancient texts to washing the dishes.

The next opportunity to leap is September 28-October 1 at Green Rock Retreat. In this other-worldly location we will stretch out liminal space. In the body, you’ll work on connective tissue. You’ll learn about the warp and weft making you a living web. With the breath, you’ll hover in the pause between inhale and exhale. You'll discover the exhale has a gravitational pull on awareness. For being, there will be invigorating morning meditation practices and an adventure or three.

In other words, sitting still does not come naturally. Despite this, meditation has become a sacred rhythm. I did have to “get my wiggles out” with years of asana practice before it was available. And when it came, I needed the anchoring of community. Then, breakthroughs rolled in like waves.

What's possible? Do you ask yourself that? Rather than projecting the past onto the future, do you lean into the great space of possibility?

Recently, while sitting in meditation, I found my mind returning again and again to problems. Chewing on them. Voraciously. There was a sense of those problems being like an endless brick wall.

When I dug a little deeper, the pebble in my shoe was partly being “wired and tired”. Tired from several big weeks of work followed by several big weeks of family. Wired with work that still needed to be done and family events that were still happening. In other words, no quick fix and no easy way out.

It was one of those south swell days and I was out swimming. Alone. It was tons of fun until I realized I was getting farther and farther from shore. In fact, I was at risk of getting swept away by the “Molokini Express” as locals call it (a 1-way trip to a barrier island). I started to strategically and persistently make my way back to shore. When I (finally) arrived, my heart was pounding, partially with fear, mostly with exertion. I laid down on the wet sand, breathing heavily.

Here’s the good and bad news about this sense of not-enough-ness: spiritual traditions see it as innately and inherently human. So the good news is it’s not just you. And the bad news is… it’s not just you.

The Yoga Tradition says that pure consciousness descends into human form and is “cloaked”. A by-product of this obscuring of your divinity is a nagging sense of lack and incompleteness (Anava Mala).

Merriam-Webster has the definition: having a beneficial effect on the body or mind. The Cambridge Dictionary says having a healing effect.

From my vantage point, “therapeutics” is when yoga asana becomes a healing art. And this doesn't arise from the poses themselves, but your alignment in body, breath, and being.

I use a system for assessing bodies and prescribing practice. It starts with functional breathing. (If you haven’t taken the Breathe Better Challenge, go get it!).

Practice is like a relationship. Warm and fuzzy in the beginning. But, eventually, it will ask you to show up and work on your stuff. This is a crossroads moment: You either walk away or commit and dive in. In my opinion, this when practice truly begins.

Begins what? The deep work of untangling knots, pushing against patterns, trudging through the drudgery of consistency. We rarely see (or hear) about this phase of the journey. But commitment is the catalyst for the slow burn of transformation.

Once upon a time, yoga was weird. And everyone was a beginner. During classes, discussion was common, demonstrations were expected, and there was an abundance of education.

Now that yoga is popular, everyone has some experience, classes are all levels, and emphasis is on practice. This is good. Practice puts teachings into the fabric of your body and being. It gets you out of your head and into your physical form. Out of the thinking space and into the feeling place.

I’ve named this underlying urge to go, go, go, do, do, do the “Hounds of Hurry” because it feels like hustle is always nipping at your heels. Even when you’ve got the time and space to take a break, you can’t shake the sense that the hounds have your scent. At any moment they could catch you, overwhelm you.

Desire is innately human. Yoga encourages you to examine it. Watch how it works. Notice that as soon as you satisfy one desire (you buy the thing!) almost immediately another desire replaces it (I need another thing!) or “satisfying” the desire does not feel how you thought it would (I got the thing but now I have this/that issue!).

These creatures of modern culture drive despair, overwhelm, and burnout. They generate relentless, aggressive self-talk. Erode dignity, autonomy, and soul-level satisfaction. They make meditation “hard” and turn “self-care” into self-beating. They thrive in the soil of distraction, competition and isolation.