(Picture of the waterfall in Chagrin Falls, Ohio)

It’s good to be back in Texas. I’m pretty sure that’s the first time I’ve said that in the 8 years I’ve lived here. I spent the Memorial Day weekend in Chagrin Falls, Ohio, the suburb I grew up in outside of Cleveland. Every year on Memorial Day weekend there is a festival throughout the weekend called Blossom Time. It’s the time when high school classes have their reunions, and although it was not a reunion for my class, I did get to see many friends. The trip back home was enlightening, but at moments, painful. It was my first time back since my father’s funeral there this past December. He is actully buried there, even though he also lived here in Texas these past 8 years. I’m incredibly grateful I got to go to home to my roots, although now I understand why it took a Yoga studio to fly me up there for the experience. My subconscious mind knew it was going to be difficult and I would not have invested in it myself because some part of me was afraid to confront that which I needed to see about myself. I taught a Yoga class while I was there and that was one of the things I said. Everytime we step on our Yoga mat, it’s like coming home to our Self. Well, in life there are real experiences of coming home to our Self in the deepest way possible and this trip back to Ohio was indeed that for me. I’m aware of the courage it took for me to go, to see the things I needed to see in mySelf and I am grateful I was inspired to go now, instead of putting it off for some time.

“The best way out is always through.” - Robert Frost

I stayed at the parents of one of my lifelong friends. Her mom is into spirituality and new-thought and so I found a lot of interesting reading material while I was there. One of the materials that really inspired me is a publication called The Sun Magazine.

Here is something I read from the magazine which is awesome.

Who Dies?
By Stephen & Ondrea Levine

Once someone asked a well-known Thai meditation master, “In this world where everything changes, where nothing remains the same, where loss and grief are inherent in our very coming into existence, how can there be any happiness? How can we find security when we see that we can’t count on anything being the way we want it to be?” The teacher, looking compassionately at this fellow, held up a drinking glass that had been given to him earlier in the morning and said, “You see this goblet? For me, this glass is already broken. I enjoy it. I drink out of it. It holds my water admirably, sometimes even reflecting the sun in beautiful patterns. If I should tap it, it has a lovely ring to it. But when I put this glass on a shelf and the wind knocks it over, or my elbow brushes it off the table and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, ‘Of course.’ When I understand that this glass is already broken, every moment with it is precious. Every moment is just as it is, and nothing need be otherwise.’

When we recognize that, just like the glass, our body is already broken, that indeed we are already dead, then life becomes precious, and we open to it just as it is, in the moment it is occurring. When we understand that all our loved ones are already dead-our children, our mates, our friends-how precious they become. How little fear can interpose; how little doubt can estrange us. When you live your life as though you’re already dead, life takes on new meaning. Each moment becomes a whole lifetime, a universe unto itself.

When we realize we are already dead, our priorities change, our heart opens, and our mind begins to clear of the fog of old holdings and pretendings. We watch all life in transit, and what matters becomes instantly apparent: the transmission of love; the letting go of obstacles to understanding; the relinquishment of our grasping, of our hiding from ourselves. Seeing the mercilessness of our self-strangulation, we begin to come gently into the light we share with all beings. If we take each teaching, each loss, each gain, each fear, each joy as it arises and experience it fully, life becomes workable. We are no longer a “victim of life.” And then every experience, even the loss of our dearest ones, becomes another opportunity for awakening.

If our only spiritual practice were to live as though we were already dead, relating to all we meet, to all we do, as though it were our final moments in the world, what time would there be for old games or falsehoods or posturing? If we lived our life as though we were already dead, as though our children were already dead, how much time would there be for self-protection and the re-creation of ancient mirages? Only love would be appropriate, only the truth.”

Om shanti…this may be one of the most powerful things I have ever read…absorbing these words brings tears to my eyes of relief and release…

Also, I wanted to mention something awesome happening this July 24-29 in Squaw Valley, California. It’s called Wanderlust. The three-day event will bring together the world’s leading yoga teachers and the best performers in rock & roll, all in a setting of breathtaking natural beauty. It’s a feast for both the body and the senses.

Music by Michael Franti & Spearhead, Spoon, Andrew Bird, Jenny Lewis, Gillian Welch, Broken Social Scene, Kaki King, Rouge Wave, Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings, Girl Talk and many others.

Yoga taught by John Friend, Shiva Rea, Duncan Wong, Sianna Sherman, Elena Brower, Schuyler Grant, Janet Stone, Rusty Wells and more.

I’m hoping to get to attend…it sounds amazing. I will be back shortly with more to share…until then, enjoy being both gratefully alive and dead.

“I’ll never see myself in the mirror with my eyes closed.” – Dead, They Might Be Giants