ROGER WRITES | Gay Bashing

Today is National End Homophobia Day.  This is my story of being gay bashed twice since moving to Portland.  Yes, homophobia exists everywhere even here in this liberal, gay-friendly city.

I went into a coffeeshop today, and everyone working there had on bright spring colors.  It was obviously intentional.  I said something about it to the guy ringing me up.  He didn't really respond to my comment.  Then I asked him if it was some kind of special day. He quietly and awkwardly said to me, "I guess it's National End Homophobia Day."  It struck me that he was a little hesitant to say it out loud like someone might be offended or that a customer might then know that he was gay.  I exclaimed how wonderful and necessary it is to bring homophobia to the light.

Sometimes, it's easy for me to forget that homophobia still exists because of the friends I have, the people who I have surrounded myself with, and because I live gay friendly city.  But since being in Portland I have had two very disturbing experiences with intense homophobia.

I was riding my bike home late one night on 21st St. in the NW district of Portland where I live.  About 4 blocks from my apartment there were 3 young jock-type men standing on the corner.  The second I  saw them my intuition told me that something was about to happen, and sure enough, as soon as I started to pass them, one of them jumped at me swinging his fist and just missed hitting me in the face.  The 3 of them then started screaming "Faggot.  You fucking faggot!!"  I continued on.  I was a bit rattled and distrubed.  How could this happen in Portland?

The very next week I was riding my bike to Muu Muu's, a funky neighbor restaurant and bar, to visit with Doug who waits tables there.  I was walking my bike to lock it up on the bike rack.  Again, three guys (not the same guys) straddled the sidewalk.  It became obvious that they were creating a barricade, and they weren't going to budge.  I gathered my courage, and I barreled through their barricade determined not to back down.  Again, I was immediately met with them yelling, "Faggot!"

Homophobia real.  People get verbally and physcially abused daily just for being gay. We must rally together embracing, acknowledging and loving each other for our diversity.  We must stand up with courage and with wholeheartedness.

ROGER WRITES | Expressing Appreciation

The other night I went over to a friend's house to have dinner.  Simple enough, right?  Little did I know that I would have an experience that would change my life.

While we were cooking, his neighbor from across the street happened to pop in.  She's 83.  She said right away, "I haven't seen you in a while, George, and I just stopped by to tell you that I've missed you and that I love you."  It was a sweet moment to witness.

They spent some time catching up.  At 83, Jeanne is a woman who laughs easily and is full of vim and vigor!  After some light-hearted and jovial interactions, George finally inquired if everything was alright.  She said that her brother had died a few months back, and she had not been out and about as much.

She told the story of her brother who had MS, and how she had watched him slowly deteriorate.  By the end of his life he only had use of his hands and his head.  One of the last times they were together he said, "It could be worse."

It could be worse.  I repeated that in my head a few times.  Then I thought, "Oh my God, what could possibly be worse?"  I felt a quake all the way to my bones.  In that moment I experienced a tsunami of gratitude flood through me.  I felt an instantaneous appreciation for my body, for my friends, for my family, for the ability to experience the world around me so fully.  In fact, since that moment I have been walking around in a stupor of appreciation.  I've made it a point to tell people that I appreciate them.  When I notice something that catches my eye I say to myself, "I appreciate that."

The thing that has struck me the most, however, is that I feel appreciation for my challenges and for the difficult parts of my life.  I have found myself saying thank you to the uncomfortable moments.  I'm grateful that I have the ability to choose to stand back up after falling down and to make amends.

I have started a list of the things I am grateful for-- a list that will never end as long as I have my hands and my head.  

ROGER WRITES | Including Suffering

My mother called me yesterday to find out if I was okay.  3,500 miles from Boston and she calls to make sure I'm okay.  I comforted her as much as one can comfort someone who loves and cares as deeply as only, perhaps, a mother can.  What she didn't know, and what I didn't tell her, is that the reason I didn't pick up the phone the first time she called was because I was in the middle of sobbing my heart out after reading the news about the Boston Marathon Bombing.  What I couldn't say is, "Mom, I'm not okay.  I've touched a sorrow so deep that I feel like I may never return from it.  No, mom, I'm not okay.  How can any one be okay with such reckless and unnecessary tragedies in the world?"

I hung up the phone loving my mother more than I ever thought possible.  In that moment, I felt the little shards and shrapnel of anger and hurt, that lay in the bottom of my heart, come pouring out in a flood of tears.  It was here in this spontaneous act of forgiveness and letting go that I realized the power that suffering can bring.  True happiness and contentment only arrive at our doorstop when we're willing to walk down the stairs into the basement of our raw, unfiltered, unmasked  hurt, sorrow, and loneliness.

Recently, I had a day of feeling stuck, uninspired and hopeless.  I texted with a dear friend of mine about my boredom and disdain for everything and everyone.  She wrote to me, "Before you spend too much time wallowing in self-pity and self-destruction, remember how many sources of inspiration exist... including suffering." Needless to say, it blew the doors off of my self-constructed woe-is-me story.

I don't know exactly how to process or what to make of these tragedies that happen daily all over the world.  What I do know is that I can not avoid or turn my back on the reality of this complex world.  I know that I must face it squarely, and that I must also turn to the people that I love for touch, for comfort, and for that silence that holds the depths of my human experience without the need to control it or take it away or fix it.

I send a million invisible threads of love from my heart out into the world. Peace to the world. Peace to all who suffer.  Peace. Peace. Peace. Shanti. Om.

ROGER WRITES | Emergence vs. Homeostasis

Let me preface this article by telling you that in four days I turn 40.  It's no big deal, except that it is.

A month ago I signed up for 8 weeks of life coaching with Tommy Faricy.  I finished my first month last Monday.  He challenges me to think new thoughts, helps me to see things from a different perspective, and encourages me to go to the places that scare me.  He reminds me of what Joseph Campbell said: "The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek."  I resist, of course.  It's my job to resist.  But his patience, diligence, and passion have made a huge impact on how I am moving forward with my life.

Two weeks agao he shared with me the concepts of emergence and homeostasis.  Emergence is the process of coming into being, and homeostasis is the process of keeping everything the same.  We focused primarily on emergence because, well, my life lately has been too much about homeostatis, which is why I started the life coaching sessions in the first place.

I've thought about these two concepts every day since then.  I've explored both sides, and I've realized the necessity of both of them.  We all want to emerge, to be our best, to be successful, alive, awake, and radiant.  However, too much of that can cause us to feel manic and oftentimes leads to a crash-and-burn experience, which is why we also need the otherside: the ground, the bones, the nuts and bolts.  It's also important and necessary to have elements in our lives that are constant and steady, but when we have too much groundedness we can easily fall into inertia and depression.

Recently, I've re-awakened my passion to move toward more complex asanas and movements.  I've been exploring and using these two dynamic forces in my practice.   I find that when I strive, push and reach out for these postures too much, I fall, I tumble, I loose my ground, and that's when I'm most at risk for injury.  When I recognize that is happening, I come back to my breath.  I come back to my bones.  I connect to my feet.  I let go of outcome and return to the practice.

Then there are those days when I get to my mat and my bones are heavier than my will; days when I think, "meh."  In those moments, I can decide to do something different.  I try a new pose.  I take some energizing breaths.  I pray for a miracle.  I let go of outcome and return to the practice.

On and off the mat it's important to strike a balance between the emergent energy required for transformation and the consistency needed for that transformation to last.

P.S.  Anyone have a Corvette for sale?

ROGER WRITES | Life is Beautiful

The day after Christmas, I went down to the basement to get my bike for a ride.  I unlocked the door only to find that my bike was gone.  I was shocked!  Instantly I was bombarded by a thousand thoughts, but I knew that it hadn't been stolen.  I sensed that I had probably locked it up somewhere and then left it.  But where?  I spent hours retracing the events from the Winter Solstice (when I last remember having my bike) to the moment I found it missing.  I called my friends and hashed out all the events of those few days.  Nothing jogged my memory.  I visited all the typical spots where I ride my bike.  I visited all the unusual spots where I ride my bike.  I spent three weeks racking my brain and searching Portland, but the bike didn't turn up.

Then one morning I was out with Tommy.  He was about to drop me off at Shakti House to teach a yoga class, and I asked him to ride by Three Friends Coffeehouse (a nearby place I go to occasionally) to see if my bike was there.  It wasn't.  Tommy dropped me off, and I said good-bye.  I thought to myself, "Okay.  This is it.  After today I am letting go. Tomorrow I will start my search for a new bike."  Literally 15 minutes later I got a call from Tommy.  "Roger, I found your bike!!," he exclaimed.  I coudn't believe it.  I asked him where he found it.  He said, "Fred Meyer."

Fred Meyer is the grocery store I shop at regularly.  It's literally 1 1/2 blocks from my house, and even as I write this entry I can look out of my window and see the roof of Fred Meyer.  I go to that store almost every day.  The bike was locked up on the bike rack right next to the entrance.  For three weeks I walked right by my bike and never noticed.  Finding my bike was a relief, but there was also an element of humiliation.  How could I walk by my bike every day for three weeks and not notice?

The other morning I went to Fred Meyer to get some organic bananas for my breakfast.  As I was leaving the store I was texting with a friend, and I accidentally bumped shoulders with a woman who was also texting.  I stopped for a moment.  I looked around and literally every single person I could see had their head down looking at their phone.  It was like a weird scene out of Stepford Wives or some zombie movie.  Then it hit me:  this is why I didn't see my bike.  Every time I go to the store I am on my phone catching up with texts, making phone calls or checking Facebook.  I'm not paying attention!

Since then, I have committed to leaving my phone in my backpack when I'm out and about around town.  Instead of using my phone, I've been trying to notice as much around me as I can.  It has made all the difference.  Portland is beautiful.  People are beautiful.  The trees and the moss and the cloud swollen sky and even the street signs are beautiful.

Life is beautiful, and we can see it with our own eyes if we're willing to lay distraction aside and look

ROGER WRITES | The War of Art

I recently came across a posting on Facebook that read:

I want to open a business called Resolutions. The first month of the year it's a gym, and the rest of the year it's a bar.

It gave me a quick chuckle.  I think we all in some way have intentions or resolutions that we create at the beginning of the year to improve ourselves.  It's a good and healthy desire to want to grow and evolve and wake up.  This ritual can also leave us feeling disappointed and frustrated when the enthusiasm and motivation gets side-swiped by the embedded habits and patterns of our day-to-day lives.

I've been teaching yoga for many years and inevitably, the month of January brings many people back to their mat, as new or returning yogis.  The classes are packed and brimming over.  By March, the classes are usually back to normal size.

A while back I read the book, The War of Art by Steven Pressfield.  It's a short, humorous and very powerful book about what happens when we set goals or resolutions for ourselves. In the chapter titled "Resistance's Greatest Hits" he writes:

The following is a list, in no particular order, of those activities that most commonly elicit Resistance:

1) The pursuit of any calling in writing, painting, music, film, dance, or any creative art, however marginal or unconventional.

2) The launching of any entrepreneurial venture or enterprise, for profit or otherwise.

3) Any diet or health regimen.

4) Any program or spiritual advancement.

5) Any activity whose aim is tighter abdomenals.

6) Any course or program designed to overcome an unwholesome habit or addiction.

7) Education of every kind.

8) Any act of political, moral, or ethical courage, including the decision to change for the better some unworthy pattern of thought or conduct in ourselves.

9) The undertaking of any enterprise or endeavor whose aim is to help others.

10) Any act that entails commitment of the heart.  The decision to get married, to have a child, to weather a rocky patch in a relationship.

11) The taking of any pricipled stand in the face of adversity.

Inevitably, upon engaging in one or more of these pursuits, you will meet a variety of resistances from yourself and others.  Period.  There's no way around that. Most likely you will fall down, forget, regress, or in someway sabotage yourself on the path to self-improvement.  Setting an intention is a courageous act that can leave you feeling vulnerable and out-of-place.  You have friends, family, and co-workers who count on you to be consistent with who you are.  When you change, you disrupt what some people have come to rely on.

I'm not here to give you advice on what to do about your resistances. You can read all about that in The War of Art, or in one of a thousand other books on this topic.

David Whyte says in his poem, Sweet Darkness, "You must learn one thing: the world was made to be free in.  Give up all other worlds except the one to which you belong. Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you."

Unequivocally, what I want to say most for myself and for you is to stay with it.  When you forget your intention, come back to it.  When you fail, get back up.  When you get lazy and slough off your commitment, re-commit.  It's easy to berate yourself or others and use failure or forgetfulness as a weapon to attack yourself and to give up.

Perhaps Rumi sums it up best:

Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again, come, come.

Here's to a year of inspiration, honesty, scuffed knees, bruised egos, vulnerability, excitement, growth, happiness and acceptance of life as if unfolds right before you.

Happy New Year.  Peace and love to you and all those who care for you.

ROGER WRITES | Part Two; The Turn Around

The following is the second part to my last posting re: my pledge of three days of love and the two women who provoked all my judgements.  Please read Part 1, as there is a real turn-around below in Part 2.

It was Friday, Winter Solstice, late morning.  I had just stepped off the bus and was heading to teach a yoga class at noon.  I was dressed in my rainy, winter Portland garb: hat, hoodie, coat, and striped scarf. Yoga Boogie was that night, Christmas was in a few days, and the world was engulfed in a maelstrom of chaos, which swirled and vibrated around me.   However, I had my headphones on listening to music preparing for the Yoga Boogie Winter Stolstice Shake Down, and I was texting with several people co-ordinating rides and directions.  I crossed the busy street only half paying attention (read: not really pay attention, at all).  As I neared the other side of the street I looked up and I was startled to see a stopped van waiting for me to cross. I scuttled quickly to the sidewalk recognizing the nearly potential distaster that I had just avoided.  I got dressed for class, and went upstairs to teach my class.

My theme for class that day was "three days of love," and I told the story that I wrote last week about how quickly my mood of love quickly turned to scowling judgements of the women who weren't paying attention in front of me at the coffeeshop.  After class, I was talking to a man who just recently started coming to my class.  He thanked me for class and then said, "Your story was perfect for me today because as I was driving to class there was this idiot talking on his phone and texting and not paying attention as he crossed the street and I had to stop in the middle of the road.  I almost ran him over."  I looked at him for a moment before I asked, "Were you driving a gray van?"

We both paused before we totally cracked up.

ROGER WRITES | Pledge of Love

An invitation to a world-wide event has come across my radar. It is called: Three Days of Love; A Global Celebration of Love and Kindness. The pledge is simple, I commit to share words and actions of love on December 20, 21 and 22, 2012. I pledged my devotion to the cause. I made the commitment partly because I believe in putting more love out in the world, and partly cause it sounded sweet.

The pledge triggered something in me, though, and as the day went on I became aware of the ways in which I harbor negative thoughts, criticisms and judgements, and how they affect my interactions with the world. I noticed it looking at Facebook, at the grocery store, and just simply walking down the street. I even noticed it in yoga class.

So. I decided to give it a test run. What would it be like if I looked at people and the world at large with love and compassion, and then interacted from that place? No fake, new age bullshit. A real, honest love and compassion. First, I had to pay real attention to my thoughts, which is where our words and actions derive from. I had to decipher what was a negative thought and what was a real, healthy emotion.

This is a true story: As I was mulling all this over I was standing in line to buy a coffee. The two women in front of me were both debating about what kind of short fat tall skinny double edged latte they wanted. The one was on her phone and the other was asking lots of questions. I just wanted a small coffee to go. I was on my way to a yoga class. My impatience grew. A line formed behind me, and very quickly my exploration of love and compassion went out the window and got soaked in the rain. I think I thought of every judgement possible, and I started to create bad scenarios. Then I remembered my practice. I literally laughed out loud a little at myself. I consciously softened my face, which had grown tense, and I unclenched my jaw. I looked at them-- really looked at them, and I saw their humanity.

I'm not sure why, but she suddenly turned and looked at me. I had sweetness and honesty in my eyes. She said to me, "Oh my God. Look at us. We're holding up the line. Go ahead of us." Then she said to her friend, "Tell her you'll call her back."

Wishing everyone one a safe and love-filled holiday season. Remember to take a breathe, get to a yoga class-- you probably need it, and, by jove, DANCE!!

ROGER WRITES | Creating a story

Last week Doug and I went to see David Byrne & St. Vincent at the newly restored Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall here in Portland.  I want to admit right upfront that I had moderate to low expectations.  I love David Byrne just fine, and I like St. Vincent, though I didn't know much about her.  We entered the beautiful theater and took our seats.  They were pretty good seats.  As soon as we sat down, Doug got up to get us drinks.  Literally 30 seconds after he left, a couple took their seats behind us.  The woman, whose seat was directly behind Doug's, said to the man she was with, "I hope some tall asshole doesn't sit in front of me."

Doug is 6'3".

I immediately started to create a hypotheical story about what could happen when Doug returned.  I won't go into the entire story, but it ended up with the four of us in a huge screaming argument that would have ended with physical violence had I not caught myself.  I immediately brought myself back into the theater, which was filled with sounds and people and lights and anticipation.

During the time that I was creating the story I was no longer experiencing my environment.  I no longer heard the sounds around me.  I was no longer present.  I laughed at myself.  When Doug returned to his seat nothing was said.  No argument happened.  We did not get into a fist fight with the couple behind us.

I would ask if you can relate to this kind of story making, but I already know the truth:  it's part of our human experience to create stories-- true or untrue.  Since then, I've been aware more and more of when that happens-- walking down the street, in the grocery store, riding my bike.  Spontaneous stories start being told.  What I've noticed is that in those moments my body and breath are reacting as if the story in my head were actually true.

Here is the invitation:  Notice when you check out from the present moment and start creating stories-- ones where you relive the past, twist the present, or predict the future.  When you notice this phenomenon, very simply and gently bring yourself back to the present moment by noticing your environment, connecting to your breath, and listening to the sounds around you.  Then continue with what you were doing, embodying a state of being that more completely matches the present moment.

Omar Khayyam says, "Be happy for this moment.  This moment is your life."  I like to modify this quote slightly because I don't think it's always possible to be happy, but I do think that it's possible to be present.  So.  Be present for this moment. This moment is your life.

ROGER WRITES | Havest Time

When I moved to Portland last spring, I quickly became part of a community garden just down the street from where I live.  It's just one large empty lot between two beautiful houses, but it's home to dozens of small plots maintained by local folks who don't have a yard to have their own garden.  It's a stunning menagerie of plants, flowers, vegetables and fruits.  In my plot, I planted tomatoes, kale, fennel, peppers, lavender and about a dozen different herbs-- even stevia! All summer long I watered and pruned and weeded and watched the little plants grow, sprout leaves, blossom and ripen.  Over the past month I've been harvesting all the ripe veggies and herbs, and I've been cooking with them.  It got me to thinking about a lecture I recently listened to by David Whyte where he says: "There’s a harvest which comes cyclically in your life," and if you don't harvest yourself you will simply rot on the vine.  Everything has a season, everything ripens, and we must take time to harvest.Like most people, you are probably closer to your goals than you imagine, and also like most people you probably have a gremlin voice that tells you otherwise.   There are things in your life right now that are ripe and ready to be harvested.  Take time to enjoy the fruits of all your hard work, dedication and commitment.  There are also things that still need watering.  The voices of negativity and discouragement are poison to your life's garden.  Water your seeds with love, with kindness, with discipline and with forgiveness,  and then, when it's time to harvest, you will be in abundance.

ROGER WRITES | Yesterday Was Gandhi's Birthday

Albert Einstein said, I believe that Gandhi's views were the most enlightened of all the political men in our time. We should strive to do things in his spirit: not to use violence in fighting for our cause, but by non-participation in anything you believe is evil.

Yesterday was Mahatma Gandhi's birthday.  He was present in my thoughts throughout the day, and I was reminded of my own personal journey of yoga and self-awakening that he inspired.

When I was 21, I went to see a free showing of the movie Gandhi at the University of Delaware where I was enrolled.  I didn't know who Gandhi was.  I had never heard of yoga or civil disobedience or non-violence.  I went to see the movie because it was free and a friend didn't want to go alone.  I didn't know that it would be the single most important and pivotal moment in my life.

After the movie, the action of Gandhi bringing his palms together in front of his heart played itself over and over again in an entrancing loop. I had seen this same gesture many times in church, but seeing this powerful man bow so humbly awakened in me my own longing to feel connected in that way.  I went home and cried.  I couldn't stop crying because I recognized my own life's calling in that moment even though at the time I had no idea what form it would take.

Much later I learned about anjali mudra (prayer gesture).  Anjali is a sanskrit word meaning "to honor," or in some instances "to offer."  This joining together of the palms has been used by all spiritual practices throughout time.  It's a representative symbol of all energies coming together at our heart's center.  This mudra awakens our sacredness, where profound wisdom lies.  In recognizing our own heart, our own wisdom and our own divine nature, we can then honor that same quality in others; we can then offer our heart to the world around us.  Like Gandhi.

The movie inspired me to read his autobiography, which then led me to read everything that he was reading: Tolstoy, Thoreau and Emerson.  That propelled me to take my first yoga class, after which I walked out feeling, as many of you have also felt, inspired, calm, energized, connected and alive.  I knew instantly and without a doubt that this was my path.

What I know now is that every one of us has something we are passionate about, something that calls to us "like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -- over and over announcing your place in the family of things." (Mary Oliver)  That calling oftentimes scares us.  We resist it.  There are voices inside and outside of us that chant: You can't do that, you're not good enough, that's not for me, I'll look stupid, I'm not smart enough, pretty enough, wealthy enough, skilled enough, etc., etc., etc...

Your work in life is to connect with your calling, and then no matter what, dedicate your life to it without worrying about outcome, the possibility of failure or success, what others will think, or even death.  Annie Dillard sums it up beautifully in the closing paragraph from her short story Living Like Weasels:

"I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you.  Then even death, where you're going no matter how you live, cannot you part.  Seize it and let it seize you up aloft even, til your eyes burn out and drop; let your musky flesh fall off in shreds, and let your very bones unhinge and scatter, loosened over fields, over fields and woods, lightly, thoughtless, from any height at all, from as high as eagles."

ROGER WRITES | The Temple, Burning Man 2012

Temple. Burning Man 2012

Photo by Roger McKeever

After a wild and whooly summer of fun and transformation I have re-emerged with new inspirations, fresh perspectives and a brand new season of The Spandananda Show.  Plus, The Sacred Tremor Collage Project is back to help you stay committed to your intentions.  And, in honor of Season Two's first episode, an originally designed Neti Pothead T-Shirt is for sale for a limited time offer!

I spent 10 days this summer with 52,000 people at Burning Man breathing, eating and wearing playa dust.  Guess what's the first thing I did when I got home?  I took a very long, hot shower.  Guess what's the second thing I did?  I filled up my neti-pot and doused the inside of my nose!  I've never been so happy to place that cool porcelain spout on my nostrils, tilt my head to the side and feel the warm rush of saline pour through the nasal passageways.  Instant relief!

This was my first time at Burning Man.  Upon arrival at the gate the ticket taker asked me to remove all of my clothes and make "snow" angels in the dust.  I knew immediately that I was home.  It was 10 days of being with people who like to live at the ends of the their imaginations... and their comfort zone.

Out of all the experiences I had at Burning Man perhaps the one that stands out the most to me in this moment is The Temple (pictured above).  It's a sanctuary built to hold people's sorrow, anguish and suffering.  On the outside people write their ache on the walls-- loss of loved ones, break-ups, wrong-doings, pleas for foregiveness, etc..  Inside there is a huge altar in the center where people place their sacred objects- photos, ashes, and memorablia.  On my first visit to The Temple I cried uncontrollably as I circled the outside, and  then looked inside to witness a room full of people expressing their unexpressed or unresolved grief.

I realized that I carry around a lot of unexpressed grief, as well.  We all do.  We live in a culture that isn't comfortable with sorrow, sadness, loss and grief.  How many times have you said or has someone said to you, "Now, now.  Don't cry," when crying is probably what is most needed.  So we hide it, push it down, pretend things don't hurt, and squeak out a tear only when it's appropriate or when we are alone.  Our sorrow is as much a part of our beauty and strength as our joy.  In fact, they are to an extent, inseparable.  We can not have the full extent of one with out fully expressing the other.

So.  Here's to crying, to pounding our fists, to wailing, to sobbing, to expressing our sorrow and loss no matter how small or how large.  Here's to throwing our hands in the air, to shouting, to celebrating, to not holding back our laughter, to the courage it takes to shine when the world around us tries to dim our light.  Here's to all of it..

ROGER WRITES | Fill Your Heart With So Much Love...

When I was 21 a friend took me to a free movie series at The University of Delaware.  The first movie we saw was Gandhi, and I don't think I blinked or breathed throughout the entire film.  What most imprinted on me was how he constantly brought his hands together in the sacred gesture of love, prayer and reverence. This expression was so genuine, so honest.  It was the definition of kindness.  After the movie, as we walked around the campus, my friend asked me what I was thinking, for I had been silent.  I remained silent for quite a while after he asked the question.  I finally turned to him and he held me while I cried.  I knew in that instant that my life would never be the same.

The very next day I went to the local bookshop and got a used copy of Gandhi's autobiography.  I couldn't put it down.  I learned that Gandhi had dedicated his entire life to the practice of ahimsa, a Sanskrit word translated as non-violence or non-harming.  As you might imagine, this practice didn't come without inner-conflict and oftentimes failure, for there were many times early on in his life when he was tortured by how to proceed with this practice without bringing harm to himself or to others.

After reading his autobiography, I desired to achieve a deeper understanding of his mind, so I read everything that Gandhi read:  Thoreau, Emerson, Tolstoy.  These men spoke of civil disobedience by living simply and away from dominant culture.  I soon moved to Colorado and lived in my tent on the side of mountain.  And yet, a question continued to raise itself:  How could I live in this world and not be part of the violence and hypocrisy that seemed to permeate every aspect of living?

Ahimsa is the first of five yamas, which are ethical explorations on "right living."  They are the infrastructure of living a life in harmony with ourselves and with the world around us.  It's easy for us to say off the cuff, "I'm not violent," but the practice of ahimsa invites us to dive deeper and to see the ways in which we are creating harm to ourselves and to all living beings, including the Earth.   It is unlikely that any of us will achieve a state of perfect practice of this foundation.  There is no such thing.  There is only the vibrant and constant movement towards being more conscious.

Ultimately, Gandhi believed that if you fill your heart with love so that nothing else can fit, then the practice of ahimsa will become a natural way of being.

ROGER WRITES | 30 Day Challenge

My 30 day photo challenge is coming to an end.  A week before I started this commitment,  I took myself out on a date to take pictures.  I was looking to be inspired and to boost my stock pile of photos for my newsletter and blog.   Well, I came home from my date with my head hung low.  I had snapped 3 or 4 humdrum images.   A few days later I came across the 30 Day Challenge video, and I knew instantly that it was going to be a picture-a-day.

Even though the daily undertaking of snapping and posting one picture was simple, it had a great impact on me.  Every picture that I took was consciously taken.  I can look back at each photo and remember where I was, what I was doing, and in some cases, what I was actually thinking.  There were days when it was the first thing I thought of in the morning, and some days I didn't post until almost midnight!  What I realized is that it didn't matter where I was.  I could find inspiration in my very own living room, in a restaurant, out on a walk, anywhere.  Oh, and I took a lot of bad photos.  That's just part of it.  I took more photos this past month then I have all year.

I know that many of you committed to the 30 day challenge, as well.  The variety of commitments was astounding. Several people chose to dance.  Doug has been posting his dance videos on Facebook every day.  I would love to hear how the experience was for you.  Let me know if you are going to start or do another one next month.

I'm already excited about my next 30 day challenge, which will start June 1st:  One muscle a day for 30 days!  I've always wanted to learn more about muscles -- their names, function, etc..  My intention is to select a muscle first thing in the morning, and then throughout the day pay attention to how I'm using it.

If you'd like to join me for this make sure you "like" the Sacred Tremor Facebook page, and check in daily.  I will post the muscle-of-the-day in the morning.  Together, we can think and learn about them all day long!

Make sure you watch the TED talk on the Three Brains.  It gives a scientific explanation of something yogis have known for thousands of years.  It also reveals how activities like the 30 day challenge do, in fact, re-wire the brain and shape how our mind views and experiences the world.

ROGER WRITES | Primal Scream

I returned a few days ago from an awesome trip to Tampa where I was teaching yoga. It's always a joy to re-connect with friends and students. The journey from Portland to Tampa is long, but I'm an easy traveler; I sleep well on airplanes.

My flight to Tampa was a red eye on Jetblue. They handed out these lovely snooze kits, which included an eye mask and earplugs. The snooze kits are a great addition to the pillow and light blanket that I travel with. I snuggled into my seat. Just as I was about put my ear plugs in it started:

Waaaaaaaaaaaeeeeeehhh! Waaaaaaaaaeeeeeeehhhh!

It wasn't the typical cry of an unhappy baby. This was the primal sound of ferocity that curdles the blood. I put my earplugs in, but even the earplugs only slighly muffled the screeching, high pitched wail coming from about 10 seats away. As people put their luggage away and took their seats I could see it on their faces: the horror of knowing that possibly for the next 6 hours they might be locked into a sound chamber of madness. Let me be honest. I actually had the thought: would someone throw that baby out the window!? I chuckled to myself thinking that I knew I wasn't the only one with that thought, and also knowing how terrible it sounded.

The turn around to this story is that I caught myself thinking negative thoughts, wondering if laws could be passed to prohibit this, designing sound proof seats, etc.. I put myself in the mother's position, and I realized how awful it must be for her not only to be holding her screaming child, but also knowing that her baby was basically ruining 200 people's flight experience. Then I put myself in the baby's position. What was going on? Fear? Hunger? Pain? In that moment I felt a little softening in my heart, and decided to practice Metta.

Metta is the Buddhist practice of loving-kindness. It's a practice that helps us to remember that while we each individually want happiness and ease in our lives so does everybody else. When we offer blessings to others, we in turn have greater access to it in ourselves. Here's the blessings I offered:

May you find peace.
May you find comfort and ease.
May your journey be quiet and calm.
May you find rest.

I said this 3 times. Once for the mother, once for the baby and once for everyone on the plane (including myself).

The crying no longer gripped me, but instead opened me to compassion. Eventually I fell asleep. When I woke a little while later the airplane was quiet.

Ironically, and I'm totally not making this up, on my flight home I was assigned to a seat next to a young woman with a baby no older than 6 months. As soon as I sat down the baby started crying. A huge grin took over my face. I met the woman's gaze, and she immediately apologized. I wanted to hug her, but I knew that would be inappropriate so instead I told her not to worry about me, "I don't mind crying babies." I wiggled my fingers at the baby and smiled and made a little goo goo sound. The baby stared back in bewilderment, and then let out a little laugh.

You can now start calling me "the baby whisperer."

ROGER WRITES | Sticky Notes

I joined the gym when I moved to Portland.  This feels a little like I’m making a confession. I haven't belonged to a gym since I was 20 years old working as a proofreader for a pharmaceutical company wearing a suit and tie to work 5 days a week.  I actually liked my job. I made my way up the ranks a little before I was fired.  I wasn't fired because of incompetency.  I was quite good at what I did.  On the contrary, I was fired because I was too happy.  Seriously.  I decorated my cubicle with bright colors, plants and pictures.  I smiled at everyone.  One day, on my 15 minute scheduled break, I drew happy faces onto sticky notes and posted them all over the building-- on the door handles, the wall above the urinals, next to cubicle name tags, on the coffeepot, etc..  I used the copier to make photocopy art.  I wrote poetry about corporate blandness.

I was fired via the telephone on a Friday evening.  The woman was sweet about it, and I wished her a good life.  I think she liked me despite her corporate need to squelch the  life out of people. I got off the phone and literally started laughing.  I packed my bags and tossed them into my smoke gray '83 Chevy Chevette (diesel), and the very next day I hit the road for a 2 week road trip.

My gym membership expired.

Not long after that I went to a yoga class, which was, in a good way, a little like getting run over by a train.  My eyes opened.  My brain fell out of my head. The teacher was using words I'd never heard before.  It felt exotic. I didn't walk out of that class, I floated!  Yes, a lot of you recognize that feeling, right?

So, almost 20 years later, I find myself walking through the doors into a room of sweaty, buff men and women.  I've been going 4 - 5 days a week, and I'm loving it.  I'm using the tools of yoga to dance with the weights.  I stand in tadasana with a lifted chest as I do arm curls.  I do handstand in between sets.  As I run on the treadmill I practice ujjai pranayama to keep a calm, focused energy.  I still smile at people.  One day I might even bring a sticky-pad to the gym with me!

Across the back of the gym there’s a big sign that reads: You have what it takes.  I see that every time I go to the gym, and it reminds me of the untapped potential that lies dormant, just waiting.  Oftentimes I add on to it: You have what it takes to be successful, to be happy, to be fulfilled, to laugh about life's ups and downs.

So, the next time you're stuck, in a blue funk, or a self-limiting belief takes the wheel remember:  You have what it takes!

ROGER WRITES | Be Aware. Be Awake.

Suheir Hammad writes:

Do not be depressed. Depression is a weight we cannot afford to carry right now. There are plans to make, and hopefully, plans to put in action. Why are so many people voting against their best interests in favor of letting fear guide their politics? Fear has won this round. We will need all our resources not to fall to it. There is nothing to be gained from becoming the victim of a weight that is not ours to carry. Breathe - sigh. And get that dirt off your shoulders.

While I am constantly shocked and awed by what a few people are doing with the power they have, I feel like I pretty much know what I’m working with here. We must practice Fortitude. Compassion. We must remember this country has always had a radical tradition of dissent. This will be the legacy we leave. We will be even louder. Write even better. Live even fuller. We will not be bought into a de-habilitating stupor. We will not be medicated beyond awareness. Alongside that fear you are feeling, is an adrenaline rush. We know now, it is the very soul of our planet and collective humanity we are trying to save. Nothing less.

Do not be depressed. Be aware. Be awake. Be resistant. Be your ancestors. Be your future. Be alive. Be alive.

In the first line of her first poem in Mary Oliver's new book she writes, What can I say that I have not said before? So I'll say it again.

So.

What can I say that has not already been said. Do not be depressed. Be aware. Be awake. Be resistant. Be your ancestors. Be your future. Be alive. Be alive. Take this to heart and begin it. Stand up for the things that are important to you. Let go of the things that bog you down. Jump up and down for joy. Give yourself permission to experience unrestrained excitement! Get out your book of gratitude and start your list. It will be long. Write your name at the top of that list.

Get out your scissors, your glue, crayons, paint, brushes, needle & thread and make art. It might be a big blue dot in the center of the page. It might turn out bad. Who cares! Stimulate your creativity in anyway you can. You are worth it. Spend more time believing that.

It's been said before and in many ways. Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" (Mary Oliver). What do you want to remember about your life when the dark shadow comes to your door? You will most likely not wish that you spent more time at the office, worrying about the future, shopping, etc.. The things you want to remember are the times you laughed so hard you almost peed your pants (or maybe you did!), the most amazing sunset that turned the ocean to gold, the days you spent making art with your best friend... You know what I'm saying.  It's been said before.

What turns you on? What makes you come alive? 

Here's the start of my list:

-the color magenta and things that sparkle

-arts & crafts

-thrift store shopping

-lighting candles and listening to music

-hiking in the mountains