1:33 Mairī karunā muditā upēsksānām sukha duhkha punya apunya visayānām bhāvanātah cittaprasādanam.
“Through the cultivation of friendliness, compassion, joy, and indifference to pleasure and pain, virtue and vice respectively, the consciousness becomes favorably disposed, serene and benevolent.
…This sūtra asks us to rejoice with the happy, to be compassionate to the sorrowful, friendly to the virtuous, and indifferent to those who continue to live in vice despite attempts to change them. This mental adjustment builds social as well as individual health. Besides cultivating these qualities, one should follow the social virtues of yama (2:30) for the well-being of society as a whole…”
BKS Iyengar, Light on the Yoga Sūtras of Patanjali (1993)
Posted with permission from the publisher.
28 August 2018
Letter To My First Yoga Teacher (written during a flood event on Kauai)
Here I am, sitting quietly (yet anxiously) in our “jungle hut” (the smell of cookies baking in the oven). The Hanalei river continues to rise and the sound of water rushing underneath is one I won’t soon forget…

Thank you for gifting us with your book! And thank you for the sweet inscription. I am touched.
Reading your personal story is giving me a deeper understanding into the nature of my relationship as a student, to you as a teacher; and why it was so important for me to leave your class before I lost heart. Looking back now, I see more clearly than I did before. Again, thank you. Some of the most profound lessons come in the most subtle of guises.
It seems our paths have been converging for some years as I also grew up in Chicago (west side), and was first introduced to yoga in 1975 when I was four years old. Do you remember Lilias Folan on public TV?
Fast forward twenty-two years when we met. I was awestruck by the grace, strength, and confidence you demonstrated with your practice. You inspired me. And now, again twenty-two years later—I am still practicing.
As part of my svādhyaya practice, I began journaling as a way to reconcile a long family history of emotional abuse. As you say in your book “…not one of us is immune…”. So true. As I wrote, I found an inner freedom to express my own unique, albeit small, voice. I made friends with my “inner guru” and discovered she is a poet!
My shattered-self-confidence continues to recover; everyday I am learning it is our relationships to others and how we treat one another that is most important for a happy, healthy and productive society.
So, here we are, back on the island after twenty years—our paths cross once again. The beginnings of a new chapter. It’s been a fantastic adventure complete with fires and now floods. I am happy to report that just in the time I’ve been writing this letter to you, the waters have receded significantly, birds have come to feast on tilapia, and we are devouring cookies!

Lovely to reconnect with you and the growing yoga community here on the island. The spirit of “aloha” is a live and well. And it would seem, the spirit of discontent is also thriving? Paradise and Hell all wrapped up in one.
So grateful to be alive at this time, and a witness to the eternal unfolding of the cosmic drama before us. And yes, forever grateful you were a part of our introduction to the practice of yoga! Om shanthi.
March 9, 2018
Dear Mr. X,
I hope you don’t mind me saying this:
I only wish to put a smile on your face and a warm glow in your heart.
There are so many beautiful words I wish to tell you…
But first, I must apologize.
It was a long time ago.
I was young.
Too young.
I was used to being abused.
Not loved.
It was all so confusing…
I am sorry I hurt you.
Can you forgive me?
There are so many beautiful stories I wish to share with you!
And
lately
I’ve had
the most
fantastically real dreams!
And…I’m dying.
Sooner or later
who can say?
It’s ok.
I feel pretty good actually
for a middle-aged woman in love.
Yet,
I feel
my health
isn’t what
it used to be.
Years
of abuse
is hard
on the
body
and mind.
However,
my soul-
my indestructible luminous soul-
is strong
and ready to take flight!
This old cocoon
is getting
uncomfortably
tight
And can’t contain
what is beginning to emerge….
April 11, 2018
Yesterday,
on the way home from bowling,
on the way to the butchers shop,
we drove past a sign
in front of a church
that read:
“Every day gives a new reason to praise God.”
And I thought,
Yes! Of course!
And praise
Allah
Yahweh
Jesus and Krishna
Lord Shiva
Perun
Thor and Zeus…don’t forget Kali…
When
we give
thanks
for one another,
with our
encouraging words
and
heartfelt gestures;
lifting up
one another’s spirits to
God—recognizing
the absolute infinite spark
in each and every
one of us
dwelling within—
are we not also praising God?
I am grateful for the reminder.
I am also reminded
how so many souls
have lost sight
of their God.
Unwilling to praise. Unable to surrender. Ungrateful.
Still,
God’s will
is stronger
than mine.
And today is a brand new day.
April 15, 2018
“Have you been drinking?”
“Why do you ask?” Was his response.
“Because I am your aunt.”
(Because I’m watching
your behavior
and it is so predictable.
You aren’t the first alcoholic
I’ve ever known.)
Then comes the excuses…
The feeling is indescribable–
becoming estranged from a loved one.
Saying, “You are no longer welcome in this house.”
The bitter heart ache
when you realize
you’ve been betrayed.
Again.
But there is also freedom
and a lightheartedness
that I haven’t known before…
If I were standing in front of you now,
what would you do?
Because while there is a part of me that wants to box your ears;
another part wants to hold you like a baby crying in my arms.
I don’t understand
how you
can be
so hard on me.
(Is it because you are also hurting and I’m not there to hold you?)
You will
miss me
when I am
dead and gone.
Remember this while you are twisting your knife into my heart…
You are my sister’s son
and just like your mother
as long as I give you what you want—
you can be so sweet to me.
And when I refuse—
you show me just how deep is your need for me.
Why do you fight me when I am on your side?
Yes, it is true,
you were a victim
of childhood emotional abuse.
No child should have to endure what you did.
Yet, here we are–
and you are
no longer
a child.
It is difficult.
I understand.
Despair is a treacherous thing
when hope seems
so hopelessly
far away.
It
Is
A
Struggle to climb up
Out of the depths of depression
Fear
Anger
Bitterness
What’s the use anyway?
Why should you care when (seemingly) no one else does?
But. They. Do.
If you can’t
On your own
“Square yourself
Around”
Don’t.
Seek out members of your community who can help.
And I think
you will find
they are willing,
more than willing
to help you
become
the best of you.
For you.
For your community.
For the whole of society.
Your
Well-being
Is
A
Blessing
To
Us
All.
There is nothing more I can do for you.
Not because I don’t love you or because I don’t care.
I want to see you
Becoming the most
Brilliant
Loving
Successful
Young man
You can become.
Nonetheless, you have to take responsibility for yourself.
And so
I have to risk losing you,
my angel baby.
My fond memories
of you-
your sweet
cherub smile-
I will always hold dear in my heart.
When you are ready
to face the darkness—
you will find
you are not alone.
We all need friends
who understand us.
Whom we can count on.
Who can count on us.
My heart
once broken
wide open
is strong again.
And I hope…
I’ll never stop
hoping
you
one day
realize your wings.
Only time will tell what God already knows…
May 4, 2018
He wants her to be more passionate in bed.
She wants him to be more affectionate in public.
They both cite: “too much water under the bridge”.
And so the two of them
go about their day
doing all the things
they normally do
for each other.
Waiting…
for the other
to make a move.
To change.
Looking up
occasionally
from their iPads
smiling at one another to say:
“I’m still here doing the best I know how in this moment.”
Twenty plus years of shared experiences.
They lash out:
“I am not what you say I am…I am a better person than that!”
Water under the bridge. Moving too fast…
I admit
when we met,
I was naive
and foolish.
(Still, you found me attractive—remember when?)
But I was hopeful…
…hopeful we could be more to each other
than just expectations,
desires fulfilled,
and selfish needs met.
We could grow up together…
I’ve learned so much
from you
over our twenty
plus years together.
But now l am
so painfully aware
of just how little
I really know.
We treat each other as if we deserve to be punished.
Perhaps we do.
It makes me sick to my stomach…
We didn’t know each other well enough to get married, did we.
And yet here we are.
Twenty
years
gone
by the wayside.
Do I deserve to be punished?
Then do it
and get it
over with
before the raging waters
destroy this bridge
between us
forever.
May 10, 2018
“I have this terrible secret.”
So says my childhood fears.
“If he finds out
he will leave me.”
Or worse
come to resent me.
I know
I have
Something
Wrong
With
Me.
Choose from any of the personality disorders de jour.
Any one may fit.
Depending on the time of day.
It’s embarrassing and I’m not exactly proud of the stupid things I did or the way I behaved; bills had to be paid and I had to keep up the appearance I was a functioning adult–trustworthy and dependable. But I wasn’t. And deep down, I knew it.
This is no justification for my poor choices.
“It wasn’t my fault!” Cries the child. “I didn’t choose to be abused!”
Or did I.
Perhaps I did choose to incarnate
in this particularly difficult body
to have this particular experience.
To go through hell
and discover
what hell
truly is.
Not some
mystical place-
underworld-
outside of myself.
But inside.
“Life is suffering”
So they say.
And for thousands of years so many “theys” have said exactly the same thing.
So
Maybe
They
Are
Right.
I remember a time
long ago
when I was
joyful.
I tried
to be
a good
girl.
Adults are supposed to care for and protect children. Are they not?
It seemed to me
I was always in trouble
for something.
I grew to hate my birthdays.
I grew to hate myself.
But always
there was this thing
inside of me.
I never could
fully explain what it was.
But it was there
and it kept me alive–
Whispering, “Hold on sweet soul. Just one more day…”
I don’t know
from where
it comes–
but here it is.
And it doesn’t
hate anything.
I’m not so sure
it matters
what you call it.
Just as long
as you
have it
inside of you
And you listen–
Please
Never stop
listening to the soft-whisperings…
I think
without it
I would have
taken my life…
so many times ago-
just to end
this suffering.
Hell hurts.
And there
were times
when the pain
was so great-
almost unbearable-
That I thought
I would leave
this awful-place-
of-suffering.
Once.
And.
For.
All.
It does make it a little more bearable to say:
“I chose to incarnate in this particularly difficult body to experience suffering.
And I choose to go through hell, if for no other reason—
just to see what is on the other side.”
Whether I deserve it or not, I am still alive.
Painfully. Joyfully. Alive.
And if he finds out–
all the better.
