As the mourning ceased, palms hiding face
Love as impaler -
Love as liberator,
Love as the base line
Love as the thread
Love as the wave
Love as the particle.
There is no light, no darkness.
Love is all there is.
Love is all I am.
This is my blog. Visit my website at treenuh.com
As the mourning ceased, palms hiding face
Love as impaler -
Love as liberator,
Love as the base line
Love as the thread
Love as the wave
Love as the particle.
There is no light, no darkness.
Love is all there is.
Love is all I am.
Earth waits for her lover to whisper a new season on her breast. The breeze is hinting at change; a softening of the air that graces Earth’s skin. Sky makes love to the horizon – the unattainable vision of unity out of division. Her body aches as she lay in silent breath. Come to me, my lover. Breathe light inside me. All at once, devour me – enlighten me – frighten me – become me. My womb is your grave.
At some point, I woke up and wondered if I could take better care of myself. I vowed to concentrate the efforts usually given to another toward care for me. I am now in a relationship with myself. I was quite happy about my private declaration but I thought I would make it public by announcing it through Facebook. FB has this cute little option where you can declare cyber-love for another so I opted to choose myself as my own relationship status. FB says I cannot create a relationship with myself. Really? I am in a deeply committed relationship with myself and FB doesn’t recognize it. No fair.
One of the inherent gifts of a relationship with another is that you get to engage in a very present spiritual practice. People trigger other people. Other people bring up your insecurities, doubts, fears, attachments, and desire to be right. There is duality. There is a vacillating motion seeking balance. There is a subject and an object.
Life with Daisy (my dog) is beautiful and peaceful. We are constantly in a state of bliss. She never triggers me but what she does do is keep me in a state of being open in my heart. This is a practice I can’t do alone – I believe love is something you do. There is a subject who is loving and an object that is being loved.
So perhaps FB is right, relationships require subject and object, too. What I hope to experience in this life is a state of loving that doesn’t require subject nor object… Non-Duality Lovin’. Simply by contemplating non-duality, it is within a state of duality. The rational mind cannot comprehend this state – reality must be pierced… it must be experienced. :-) The ultimate balance isn’t in the shift side to side but in the Creative state as conduit… straight up.
Thank you for the moments of this morning … gratitude overwhelms me. How do you explain a moment – a fleeting instant of purity from a magic wand hovering in the sky? You can’t. You can’t touch what it feels like to be connected. You simply can’t explain love… though we try. And, oh my, do I TRY. My senses take in an instant in time like a Polaroid that doesn’t produce a photo. I have this obsession with recording an instant with a camera – so I can convey the beauty I see – but the moment of experience is what arrests me. Look at a photo and see what I see but you can’t smell a sound or taste the air. You can’t feel the joy bubbling from my heart that I am here…. now… That life is filled with beauty in EVERY moment.
Alone in Creation
Banked on the river of Self Love, she splashes her face.
And then she asked of souls, “One? Two?”
Abiding Peace cleared the path in the foothills
Climb Mountain, offering life line
Stoking fire, undertaking flame.
River as perfume.
Self baptism, soak in wisdom.
Breathe in love
She asks, “Palm to palm as lovers touch, who is this?”
Then the roar came from Mountain’s core, “It’s me. It’s me.”
Mountain abides and answers her call.
Whispering in syncopated breaths, “It’s you. It’s you.”
Sitting on the balcony, chimes infuse my thoughts. The breeze is moist with Spring teasing us. Tapping on leaves, the rain is longing to be grounded. The rain knows it will change and accepts its fate. Do you suppose it ever wonders what the tree must feel like to be so deeply rooted to her mother?
Dancing in the rain… is there a greater goal in life? Freedom calls, at first, as a whisper then in a glorious thunder, erupts to a flow of love.
I want to be a sound… the creation of two objects expressing their connection. The vibration riding through space and gracing human ears as temporary as a first love, yet pulsing to infinity – to the heart of the universe.
Beyond the expression lies the desire to be. Then we desire to become one. Beyond the form lives the soundless.
I am that.
Yoga College Series at The Mat Yoga Studio
Join Trina Hall for this amazing opportunity to go to Yoga College! The Yoga College Series is like going back to school but much more cost-effective and fun! This is your chance to enrich your mind in the philosophy of yoga as you engage in lecture and discussion with like-minded yogis.
Pick the topics to choose your “degree plan”. Come to one or all of the seminars in the series to expand your knowledge on a wide variety of philosophical topics.
Trina Hall, a former college yoga professor, will be giving each of the lectures and accepts apples from the teacher’s pet.
What to bring: Bring a notebook and a pen to take notes.
Cost: $20 per session. Register here.
I was interviewed by Marquette Falbo on meditation. Hear the interview here on BlogTalkRadio
“Created in response to Magmart Video Festival Director Enrico Tomaselli’s 2014 Global Video Program “The Five Senses” representing artists from five continents, this video Touchpoint explores touch as a signifier for a moment of physical and emotional connection, a moment of self and communal discovery… a moment of truth.” – Colette Copeland
Directed, filmed and edited by Colette Copeland
Filmed at The Mat Yoga Studio
Starring yogis Lisa Coyle & Trina Hall
Music by Frame “Global Communication” (Free Music Archive)
It was such a treat to work with the team of producers at “Good Morning, America”. You can read the story and see the entire piece here. http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/health/2013/09/25/confessions-of-a-temporarily-fat-yogi/
Thank you to Angela Haupt of US News and World Report, New York Daily News, Business Insider, Mike Lucas of “The Doctors”, and Chris Weller of Medical Daily for helping me change the face of yoga. There are so many “success” stories out there about people losing weight. Thank you for showing my success story of how my weight gain helped me find a new level of self-awareness and acceptance. My art piece started a conversation that I think needs to be taking place in our society.
I’ve gained weight and I’m not pregnant. I’ve followed the brand new, yogi-approved Seat Diet.
See it… eat it.
As a yoga teacher, this could be considered career suicide. Instead of slaying my means of supporting myself, I want to slay the notion that people who do yoga need to look like the beauties on the cover of magazines. Last year, my best friend said crying as she dealt with her lifelong eating disorder, “I don’t want to be known as the fat yoga teacher.” I was taken aback by this statement because I would classify her as beautiful, fit, and trim. I wanted to explore her statement that resonated in my mind like the frequency of fingernails tagging with sound their presence on the chalkboard.
To me, ‘fat’ is an arbitrary word that is used as ammunition to harm another. I’m not at war.
I thought this would be an experiment in empowering people to love their bodies and not try to fit society’s mold. Instead, reality of my latent insecurities came like a football team’s kicker being put in as the center (my identity was pummeled).
The stories I made up about what people thought of me were changing and I was emotionally affected. Suddenly, my self-worth was proving to be connected to how good I looked wearing spandex – something I completely denied giving a shit about before this experiment – and that pissed me off. Guilt from eating foods I typically considered bad for me were constant companions in my thoughts. Shame did cameo appearances in my mind’s movie reel daily.
My most shocking discovery through the process is that I’m afraid of not being loved. I noticed the self-talk was that my beauty is only on the surface. I feared no man would want me this way and that I would die alone, probably from choking on a potato chip. There was a war going on inside of me and neither side was winning. Once I unraveled the fears and self-assaulting language as irrational, they no longer had power over me and I began to relax into my new found “goods”.
Nietzsche says the thing separating men from gods is the belly. May we all expand our bellies to digest our fears and empower our minds to think. May we all understand that we all want to be loved for who we are… however we are in the moment. And may we all find love and not die alone, from potato chip asphyxiation.
PS – I’m not fat; I’m fucking awesome!
There was a time when all I needed for inspiration was a quote, horoscope, fortune cookie, or one of those refrigerator magnet poems. The days of fluffing the pillows of hope to make the world seem less random are over. I am simultaneously distraught and relieved that I no longer rely on my tea bag for a shot of wisdom.
My industry is known for injecting the public with heightened inspiration, feel-good yumminess, and the perception that one can be happy all the time. I’m a generally calm and happy person but I’m over the illusion that we can talk ourselves into seeing the half-full glass as overflowing.
Nature is my teacher. People are a part of nature and in my work, I come in contact with a diverse group of humans. A lot of people subscribe to the theory posed by a new-age book that claims to reveal the one secret law of the universe. Basically, it says one just has to specifically ask the universe for what one wants and, like a genie granting wishes, it will appear.
I’m a big believer in setting a goal and a bigger believer in working my ass off to achieve the goal. Whether or not I accomplish the goal seems to only come down to how I choose to spend my time… Not whether I put the right picture on my vision board/talked with my angel guides/chose the right spirit animal before my vision quest.
We have an immense amount of power in our brains to change the way we think about things, but because we change our thoughts does not make something manifest into this world.
I’ve found the people who talk the most about manifesting are the people who are doing the furthest thing from their ideal job. I get that we all want direction and we all want a plan, but the thing that pisses me off about “The Secret” will hopefully become clear by the end of this rant.
Driving down a busy street in Dallas in the middle of Summer, I saw a man carrying his groceries. He was blind and using a walking stick. Do you think it would help him to wish himself out of blindness? Do you think having a clear intention would spontaneously make him able to see? No. And an intention like that would be a complete waste of time and energy whose results would be futile.
He inspired me. He didn’t let his fear take hold of him.
A student of mine was struggling in a yoga class this morning. We were doing Downward Facing Dog. For many healthy people, this pose is a breeze. This man would get into the pose for about one second and need to come down to his knees again. He did this five times in the eight seconds we held the pose. This student has Cerebral Palsy and wants so badly to do the yoga poses everyone else in the class is doing. Do you think if he was very clear that he is asking the universe to heal him that he would get better? Do you think it is a good use of his mental capacities to dream of having use of all motor and mental functions?
He inspired me. He kept trying. He isn’t giving up.
People who do their best with what they have inspire me. Determination and focus inspire me. Vision and creativity inspire me. Don’t tell me the world is going to shimmer with sparkles and happiness when sometimes it is just going to suck. Teach me how to work with what I have – to shape my own clay into something I really love. Teach me how to get re-focussed when I lose sight. Teach me how to love.
A 10-year-old girl named Lark completely captured my heart last weekend. She suffers from debilitating Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis and I had the privilege to go to San Pedro, CA and teach my Wisdom of the Chakras workshop as a yoga benefit for her. I absolutely fell in love with her!
I’m not the only one who loves Lark. There are at least 16 other people who feel the same way because they all rallied together for her last weekend. I had the pleasure of leading the workshop and meeting all these beautiful people interested in the chakras and interested in helping Lark.
Every once in awhile, I have a visceral reaction while I am teaching. I’m overcome with a powerful undercurrent of love and I don’t understand it. My rational mind is aware that these people I’m feeling love for are effectively strangers. It doesn’t make sense to me but it is a very real experience. I’m moved to tears feeling this feeling and I try to just let it wave over me. It is beautiful.
Last weekend was a reminder that despite feelings of loneliness, we are not alone. The feeling of being connected is available to us at any time if we are willing. Thanks to Lark, I’m more willing.
Energy, or prana, flows through the body and the chakras provide a sacred roadmap to our consciousness. The subtle energy we experience can be explored through the architectural design of the chakras, their traits, qualities, and physical manifestations. In this workshop, we will investigate the chakras as an energy system as it relates to the healing practice of yoga.
Sign up here – very limited space available
Sacred witness being seen
Love floats through air
lands in our embrace.
Steadfast, oh silent heart
The bounty of my love’s fruit
cannot be found in dreams.
Words are easy
words come cheap
therefore, do not speak.
Our magic lives in a space of
I garnish a life.
Equations make sense because we’ve all agreed on the meaning of the symbols within the equation. The plus sign means what it means and there isn’t any argument. We don’t put our subjective vacillating thoughts on the number 8, expecting it to adapt to our will.
Labels and titles are different. When we embark on a journey of any kind with any sort of title or label, we carry along the expectations of said title with us. We project our desires and insecurities onto the title, or moreso, onto the person we’ve bestowed the title upon. This projection creates a disparity between truth (undifferentiated reality – looking at ‘what is’) and our projection of what we think the truth should be.
We all do this unconsciously. How can we begin to recognize the pattern? Notice when you complain about something someone else is doing. A complaint is simply saying, “Reality is different from my projection of what I think reality should be.” You can easily get into a battle of wills stemmed from your desire to control someone or a situation. Reality always wins – it is more of a control freak than you are and it will make you happier if you accept other people the way they are without complaining.
Don’t try to make someone better. You can only attempt to make yourself better.
Accepting someone how they are without trying to change them is a form of love. My most fulfilling relationships are the ones where acceptance is mutual. My dearest friends see my character flaws. They don’t spend time dwelling in my apparent short comings and they don’t remind me of my inability to be perfect. They love me in spite of myself.
I’m in love with many people. I’m in love with the wholeness of them. I am in love with their humanness. I love the unspoken connection. I love the knowing. I lean into the ease of loving.
1. Yes, that is me. No, it is not Photoshopped.
2. Yes, I am on a ledge. No, I did not pee in my pants.
3. Right after this shot, I stuck out my tongue at the photographer, Stevan Koye, and I fell and almost busted my butt.
4. Yes, it was worth it!
Thanks to the incomparable StevanKoye.com for the amazing shot and thank you for not publishing me biting it. :-)
We just announced the dates for Advanced Yoga Studies 2013. The students from the 2012 class of Advanced Yoga Studies Level 3 are graduating in about a month. They have gone through over 200 hours of yoga teacher training to learn the techniques that make yoga a science. They’ve also tapped into the source that makes yoga an art.
In the program, we have lots of scientific minds – those whose minds need proof and structure to learn. We also have artists – those who need to break out of the mold and learn best through theory and discussion. Most of all, they all each have a wild sense of humor. Every weekend through this journey, we have laughed.
These incredible individuals are going to make stellar yoga teachers. Each of them has a unique style and they are ready to share their experience through the art and science of yoga.
Visit http://www.thematyogastudio.com to get more information on AYS 2013 or find out when the students will be practice teaching!
My favorite thing to do is be creative… however that shows up – whether through creating an experience for my students, cooking for my friends, painting, or photography, it is something that brings me an infinite amount of satisfaction and joy to share.
There are a select few who have seen me in my creative state. It is sacred for me. One of my closest advisers has pushed me to another level where I am exploring the idea of sharing parts of my creative process. This video is part of this new idea.
I’m scared to death as I post this. It isn’t about fear of what people think or how people may judge me. It is a vulnerability – a true showing of my heart. I figure I might as well be even more real and more honest. Isn’t it true that is something scares you, it is worth doing? :-)
The Stewpot Art Program is a community outreach serving the homeless and at-risk populations of Dallas. It is open to people looking for an environment to express and create through the medium of art.
Starting on Wednesday, I am teaching my Creative Process Yoga class to provide a format for the artists to get to know their creative process in a more intimate way through yoga, meditation and conscious breathing.
I feel a deep connection to those I will serve because there is a part of me who identifies with this feeling of not having a home. I feel blessed and honored to volunteer the wisdom yoga provides to all people – regardless of their social status, income or belief structure.
I have my grandpa’s cowboy hat, his cameras, the book he read to me as a little girl. He was a boisterous, jolly architect (who never graduated high school), who loved to fish, played the fiddle, was an elder in the Church of Christ, and escaped as a POW during World War II. Never settling for anything average, Grandpa added color and depth to my life as if I lived in the Wizard of Oz after the house landed on the witch. He believed in family. He believed in laughter. He believed in love. I sure do wish I could hug him now and tell him what is going on in my life. I’m having one of those moments where I realize he would be proud of me and who I have become. The tears magnify the letters on my screen as I know what it feels like to be loved.
My dad often gave me pens as a child because of my love of office supplies. Just like a musical instrument can be a muse, a new pen is my muse. I love to test drive a pen to feel how it performs in my hand and glides across the paper. My dad also gave me determination and project-based thinking, a logical mind, as well as the desire to see things differently. After his dad’s funeral, we took a three-hour drive home and discussed the nature of time. It was the first time I saw him as a philosopher as we bantered back and forth about alternate universes. He took what are called “Daddy shortcuts” where we would take the time from point A to B to see something beautiful. I do this now. Thanks to him, I know how to take my time. Poppa took me on dates as a little girl and I fell in love with this protector who worked full time and went to school full time to take better care of us. He is the kind of person who knows what the weather is going to be. He always carries a pocket knife and is active in his church choir. He was a boy scout troop leader who can start a fire with dryer lint. I can’t believe he is my dad. I’m lucky.
Rob Brown was my mentor and friend. A wicked sense of humor and impeccable timing joined us together along with our love of art, music, and generally messing with people. He said, “I want to change all I’s in the alphabet to U’s,” So we dud. Every sungle one of them was changed un oir dauly conversatuons and emauls. Before he died, he gave me a book of Richard Avedon photography that holds a special place on my bookshelf. He was listening to Desperados Waiting on a Train by Jerry Jeff Walker the entire week before he prematurely passed – so now that song is one that will make me cry no matter what. It summed up what our relationship was – I was his sidekick. That man left the planet way too soon.
I suppose the purpose of this very personal blog post is to convey that I’ve known extraordinary men who have taught me love. I have reminders of that love all around me that hold space for something special.
He has two gods: nature and music. The notes were his companion, the former rests somewhere beyond the view, begging to be graced with his footsteps. “Don’t look at me. Be with me,” Mother Nature commanded, knowing he was afraid of the dark. Did he need more strength to be strong? Burying the barbed wire beneath the brush, a toll was paid to the cheribum, Fear and Desire, to enter the garden at Giverny. The forest was disenchanted, the wolf his companion as the path was marked with art.
For seven days, he ran. He collapsed and shouted his hands skyward, seeking the mother he never had in a tree. This was his other.
She was concerned about the depth of his faith so decided to practice hers. She already survived Hades resting place where creativity’s marrow was sucked from her soul and she sought counsel in the clouds.
Sounds of a ritualized morning beckoned her from the sky. He opened the aperture of her life and grew himself in her womb. The body of his home now received her touch, the echoes of laughter and love making swam through stone and wood. She held her lion’s hand as his compass for navigating the shadow. He always had courage and seeing Waxing Gibbous reminded him of her light. He knew his light was lovable and finally had proof the entirety of his makeup being dressed down was loved, too.
She was his shelter. She was his light. They were love.
Investing their dividends, they wrote a business plan for their perspectives: luxurious utilitarianism and altruistic indulgence.
Sometimes we make important life decisions based on what we think we should do. The “should” can become a barometer for being loved or accepted by others. Much of my life was spent as a purposeful outsider… Never wanting to be adopted into one group, I joined them all. It is like how I can’t choose my favorite color – wouldn’t green get its feelings hurt if I chose pink?
While working in an art gallery and at a museum, I found yoga. Finally, something pure enough for me to want to dig my teeth into. I said my vows, got my membership card and thought of how to best serve yoga itself. I wanted to give people something to look up to… I wanted to be a leader. I wanted to be heard.
So I traded in my vintage hat collection for an ascetic life, trying to free myself from desires and craving. I cleansed. I purified. I tried to honor what the yogic teachings offered me. Glamour and elegance no longer mattered to me. I wanted to embody the perfect yogi. As a girly girl who started wearing high heels before she could ride a bike, it was a stretch to stop wearing make up, but I did.
I became obsessed with what others thought of me – or moreso, my ideal of what I thought I should be. My self-esteem was garnered from an external perception and I somehow always fell short.
All this did is isolate me further from my own truth. It’s taken a while to understand the truth comes from within and anything other than following your heart is a form of self-deception. I was too truthful outwardly to others but little by little, I lied to my heart.
I’ve embraced more of myself – who I am beyond archetypes and titles – and my art is now reflecting my heart instead of my issues. It’s ok to be in love with who I really am and at the end of the day, I’m the only one who is keeping score.
I don’t want to be an ascetic. That isn’t the key to happiness. Happiness lives in the space. Happiness lives in gratitude… Fall down on your knees kind of gratitude. Find the things that make your heart smile and do more of that. I don’t want to be a part of anything less than helping people remember this. We all know it, we just need to be reminded – everything is cool.
Score one for me – I can finally put on my cocktail dress, open a bottle of champagne and do yoga in my favorite pair of heels. Ok so it wasn’t the most comfortable of endeavors, but you get the point, right?
I’d rather stand on my head than talk about the weather.
Remember, Atlas shrugged, too.
Seeking an answer is like trying to understand the tree by only looking into its shadow.
In the silence, the beat, butterfly wings pulsing at your heart.
Witness sacred in mundane.
Take care of yourself and wear your apron.
Sweep your own floors.
Make dinner as you linger in another’s depth.
See the resonance – the relics and the seeds.
Look to the tree, inspiration between limbs. It holds up the sky where you shine.
She heard a voice while searching for a sign in the woods that closed her throat in on itself like a black hole swallowing matter. It sucked her breath, her umbilical cord to source. The alchemy of longing changed to feeling. All grown up, she waved the white flag to no one among the silence in the trees, her heart open, revealing to the space her fear that he was only in the vivid hues of imagination.
All this time selecting, grading, discarding, she turned herself into a miner. Infatuation was all a matter of perspective as she snapped up, documented and filed the moments through her left eye. The view from the high rise was the same as the view from the lake. She became a key collector.
Daily, her ritual bath was self-awareness. Doing what was filtered into her imagination, she knew.
Can she change her last name to Hope? It resided in her thoughts where truth murders time and expectation dances with faith. She’s known this is the place only she can go – never looking back like Orpheus did and never wearing a watch. At least this way she could blame it on their individual mission statements and the IPO.
Is this the last time she cries for the love only held through conversations with Mr. Rogers? Relief comes in the stillness, the knowing, that he will find her.
As sculptors, they created each other. They were detectives searching for the seed planted by children force fed a diet of judgement. At the end of the day, she drew him from the mountain, home to rest his head upon her breast. Who is with you at the end of the day is what matters. Thought bubbles held songs that shaped her upbringing and he read them like a comic strip. She listened to his ideas, connections, contemplation, confessions and worries. He was only waiting to hear her voice. She talked of her gratitude, her forgiveness, her knowing, and confessed her fears.
Everyday they walked in the woods, showing each other the signs, drinking the nectar of the gods.
And on the 9th day, Beatrice heard the tree, “Sing. Sing not for the sense but sing for my breath, my life. Our soul.”
The Mat Yoga Studio is where I teach one of my babies – the training program, Advanced Yoga Studies. I was at their event, Karma Yoga Happy Hour, when the video crew asked to do an interview with me. I didn’t know what I had to say except that The Mat is a beautiful place to work because of the people there – but they pulled so much more out of me about AYS. I guess we can call this a promo for AYS – Katie and I talk about it at 2:40 or so. You may want to check out the end because I show some dance moves as poetic as Elaine from Seinfeld and her thumb dance.
Every Thursday in July, I will debut my new Creative Process Yoga class at The Crow. I hope you can join me. Here are the details:
Whether you are a painter, musician, writer or someone who has not yet discovered their inner artist, this yoga class will help you find and refine your skills in the creative process. The process will help you gain clarity in your goals and help you remove obstacles on your path.
What is the creative process? It is a way of deep listening that provides connection to ourselves, others, and something greater.
Designed around the wisdom of yoga, this class presents an opportunity for practitioners experience their creative process through the practice of yoga. The format changes every week but all classes include education in yoga philosophy, mindfulness techniques, guided relaxation and meditation while some weeks we will break down alignment in postures, some weeks we will flow, and some weeks we will settle into deep stretching.
Every class is appropriate for beginners and advanced practitioners alike. Come with any questions about yoga, and a desire to learn and be inspired.
Creative Process Yoga with Treenuh Yoga
Crow Collection of Asian Art
Thursdays in July
It’s been quite some time since I posted a playlist. Tuesday’s Open Flow class was special for me because I was thinking about how I’ve been inspired by beautiful art and performances recently.
I wanted to bring forward an exciting energy to help us get closer to our human desires and ultimate longing. I posed the question, “What is your purpose?” I’m interested in those dreams you fear are too big to be uttered… those things you pictured doing when you were a kid… the ideal life you know you are meant to lead.
I think it was 1999 and I was watching a rehearsal on the SNL set. Lorne Michaels’ office is at the top of the seats and there were two kids hanging out there. I introduced myself and learned that one was Lorne’s son and the other was Paul Simon’s. They were on a baseball team together and Paul Simon’s kid said when he grows up, he wants to colonize the moon. Really. That was his dream.
Some of us know exactly what we are supposed to be doing with our lives and some of us aren’t even sure where to begin in writing life’s mission statement.
I’ve always known I wanted to be a teacher. I’ve always known I wanted to be an artist. I’ve always known my main goal is happiness. I was not, however, always true to that vision. I adhered to a standard of what was expected of me. I lived my life through the lens of another’s expectation. Then everything changed and I kept my focus on what I truly want, re-defining the means to get there along the way. The path isn’t always clear but I do keep stepping, even when it seems like the next step my lead me off a cliff. It’s ok, if I fall, I know how to use my wings to land safely again.
What makes you happy? Joseph Campbell calls it “Follow Your Bliss” and how beautiful is that notion? You possess the bliss already… you just have to follow the path.
The thing that unites us is love. It is our highest calling. Love is the best we can possibly be. It is a presence, an openness, a vulnerability, a doing… it is a way of being. We can think about this pretty easily as we’ve all loved and been loved before. But are we fully living up to love’s standard of equality and infinite capacity? If I were to gather an accurate picture of how much I am fully, 100% loving, I am sad to say that far too often, fear and judgement make guest appearances in the sitcom of my mind. We can make it a practice – practice love. Practice acceptance.
We’ve all built up ways of protecting our hearts and hiding from our co-created destiny. But it is time. It is time for us to live! It is time to live our lives inspired. It is time to watch our dreams come true.
All. of. Us.
Sending you love. :-)
The melodic aching of her soul’s longing
Comes in waves
Pluck from her tree
The taste of one great love
She, a firecracker
Icarus was he
But fly they must
Through divine inquiry.
I, too, had a series of small strokes that left me with double vision and debilitating headaches. My left eye could no longer move and I had resigned myself to always rely on other people to take care of me – a huge feat for a person who craves solitude and independence. I was sad. I was depressed. I needed help taking myself to the bathroom. My life looked so much different than what I had dreamed of as a little girl.
To cheer me up, I was given art supplies because I had said in passing, “I always wanted to be an artist.” I never took lessons but I discovered how to play and tap into the rhythm of oil painting. It was the biggest gift I had been given – relief from the pain, joy from expression, and a love of color that still charms me today.
The creative process is what healed me back to my version of normal (notice I didn’t say “normal” but “my version of normal” because I am definitely a little off-center)… but this time, I had a mission – to live a creative life and teach others how to heal themselves through creative process.
My mind seeks connection in its isolation so I seek to find ways of joining things together. Yoga was the best medium I found for joining people to a deeper connection within and outside of themselves. My teachers always talked about energy in class. Though I understood its meaning in an abstract way, I couldn’t stop thinking about the E in Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. I’ve re-imagined his theory to show how our lives and connection to source/spirit/universe can be enhanced through simple conscious breathing and movement as a meditation. I found conscious breathing is the single most beneficial thing we can do to enhance brain function, spiritual connection and overall wellness. So I need a platform to share this with more people.
I decided I wanted to give my own TED talk so I applied and was accepted to audition a 5 minute talk at TEDxSMU. I learned so much about myself, my expectations, my hopes, my dreams and my desire to communicate effectively. The stillness was palpable when the crowd was observing their senses.
This was an experience I will always treasure despite it being a horrible record of my public speaking skills. I couldn’t remember any of my jokes or any of the points I wanted to make. All in all, I sucked but at least I can say I did it.
TEDxSMU Spring Auditions
Thursday, May 3
The Belmont Hotel
If you don’t know what TED is, congratulations – you can now come out from under that rock. :-) Here are links to my two favorite speeches:
The audience is voting on the winner. Come support me and I will give you a piece gum as a thank you. Everyone loves gum so I know you’ll come. Register to attend the FREE event.
Every ending is a chance to look back at the beginning and embrace change as your constant companion while you regard time as a specter who wants to be seen.
Yesterday, my yogis from Advanced Yoga Studies Level 2 graduated. I still haven’t processed how my time will change now that I won’t be teaching a training program until August but I have processed the beauty and wisdom these women shared with me during our 100-hours together. Today, I feel like a momma bird who is watching her babies fly from the nest. I am so grateful.
There is a man who pushes a cart around the neighborhood, collecting cans from recycle bins. I’m assuming he is homeless. He’s become as familiar as my next door neighbor with his routine stop in front of my house and we always wave, give the obligatory smile, and the neighborly exchange of conversational pleasantries.
At first, I felt pity for this man… how it must feel to not have a home… how he must be living in fear. My ability to project my own fears of survival on this man led me to see there is no indication from him that he is afraid. He actually seems quite happy as he delivers a nugget of wisdom in conversation, “You deserve the truth.”
Then I felt envious of his reality – time is simply measured by sunlight. He need not wear a watch as he is free to do anything with his time. The watch is my albatross. Freedom exists in the mind and reality is what we make of it.
On my days off, I aim to live more like this man – wandering with the sun as my guide, wondering with my shadow behind.
Perfume of coffee and taste of unshaven legs… the anticipation of art as a container for infinite expression. How does a shadow dance? Where do glances fall? As she approached the tarmac, she wasn’t yet cleared for landing. Baited in breath, the path became clear. There is something rich in mistaken identity as the winter’s trees pretend to have no protection. Just as in every theory, it has yet to be proven.
Her shade was taken away so the sun was in connection – more directly this time. Who was it? Where is that voice?
Belief – faith, even – is what resonates. Recalling bleeding retinas, her grandfather hadn’t warned her about looking into the sun. She assumed it was necessary to go into the light – to bathe in the rays of glorified nothingness.
To become who you truly are and imbibe power beyond form is what creates discernment. Just as the clouds scraped the rays from her skin, she exhaled. Guilt became an extension in the call directory of her thoughts; the number rarely dialed. This unwavering disregard for punishment along the gallows resulted in a sensation between her shoulder blades. What would she do with this new sense of freedom?
She put in place a policy of truth-seeking and truth-speaking that became the touchstone in her future conversations that always pierced into the essence of now. Ultimately, she was her own beneficiary and time an imagined jaded lover. She became provocative… pro-active. Gentle in her approach, the blending of creative energies was her offering.
Inspire me beyond
In the space where
we are both seen
Taming the wild
Love into your
tie you up
in my apron strings
One Love Dallas – the brainchild of Melody Moore and Jennifer Chitwood – is like a yoga marathon. They choose 12 teachers each year to lead hundreds of people through 108 sun salutations to raise money and awareness for a charity, Off the Mat into the World. I’m in for my 2nd year and I am honored to be in the company of these other amazing teachers. Let’s all get on board and do this!
This year, One Love Dallas is raising money to liberate and educate women and children who are victims of sex trafficking in India. I know, this is heavy sh*t. The CIA estimates that 1,000,000 girls and women are put into sex enslavement every year. Every year, 50,000 girls are kidnapped and brought in to the US alone.
Open your heart, open your wallet and give some hard earned cash to help empower these women and children who need our help! If we can find it in our hearts to help, we must.
I’ve started a team to encourage my students, friends, and family to donate: http://www.crowdrise.com/onelovetreenuh
If you don’t want to donate, get your yoga on and participate in the 108 sun salutations with me!! :-)
Thanks to stevankoye.com for our group photos!
The inaugural Advanced Yoga Studies group graduated in 2011. Besides 100 hours of yoga training involving pose alignment, breathing techniques, meditation, and philosophy, we made it our mission to have fun! We did yoga from Dallas to Playa del Carmen, saw live music from Bob Schneider to Matt Pond PA, ate delicious food mostly consisting of chips and salsa, formed lasting friendships, and planted memories surely to make our days spent reminiscing in the old folks home fun. I can say we accomplished our mission!
This will be a beautiful experience you won’t want to miss!
Come celebrate with us on The Mat’s Two Year Anniversary! All day long we will have home baked goodies, hot apple cider, raffle drawings after every class, and big sales on retail products. Don’t miss our extra special live music during the 6:30pm Open Flow & 7:35pm Meditation classes with Trina by The Sound and The Meaning, North Texas’ vibrant kirtan and world music ensemble.
Pre-registration is greatly appreciated, and the 6:30pm class is first come, first served, so please arrive early!
Raindrops have marching orders
Falling in line.
All mistresses of the Infinite.
A yellow marker along the human experience.
What are you trying to convey when you shake someone’s hand?
While in Memphis doing my Tennessee yoga tour, 3 men commented on my ‘weak’ handshake. 10 years ago, any mention of me being weak and I would have drop-kicked you.. or challenged you to an arm wrestling match.. or a rap-off featuring yo momma comebacks… Whatever. I used to have a firm, strong handshake that attempted to say, “I am in charge and I am strong.” This is the way Texan women are raised: show them your strength.
At some point, I decided it would be more brave if I could drop the facade and present a more realistic picture of myself in the touching of palms. I wanted to be more honest with myself that I’m sensitive… I had a desire to convey my gentle nature… I wanted to touch everyone as if they are my beloved.
What are you saying when you shake someone’s hand?
I want to be happy. We all experience life through a series of emotional states and we are thrust into despair, depression, and defeat. If I just want to be happy, I have to figure out a way to trick myself into moving through the dark times as if I am happy, or else doom myself to flashing the big “L” on my forehead for eternity.
At first, I tricked myself into thinking everything is just hearts, rainbows, stars, unicorns, and flowers all the time. Life is beautiful. Complete denial of darkness. All this did is make the pendulum swing more radically into the shadow when I wasn’t looking. Hello depression. I was riding a 3 legged mule instead of my sparkling unicorn.
When Grandma died recently, Mom gave me a copy of a personal statement I wrote in high school. My high school self wanted happiness, too.
Being the anthropologist of my life, excavating happiness, is a challenge. How do I smile when I feel like I am being buried alive by the dirt of life? How do I unearth joy when I feel low?
For me, it is faith. Within the idea of faith, I sense a bit of light. So when I am exploring my shadow, I practice faith in myself.
Faith in the creative process.
Faith that there is some lesson I am learning that is helping me understand the mystery that is my life.
Persephone dreamed of a man she had seen.
Sounds of a soul
The face, a cerulean hue.