Let The Ocean Take You

“When you embark on a spiritual journey, there comes a time when something is going to have to matter to you more than your safety.”
—Ram Das

This picture was taken on the day I had my first T-shot, five years ago today. I got straight on the bus right after, to teach workshops in Boston. I was terrified. A lifetime of doubt and guilt (for making a decision I needed to make) running through me. Bringing me into a kind of freeze mode. Now I had done it. Gone and changed EVERYTHING.

Exactly a week before, the doctor, at my first and very hard to get consult that took four months, had said, “if you want to go on it, you have to decide today because we only really treat active clients. There is an opening for you to come get your shot next week.”

And it truly felt like THE opening.

I didn’t sleep all week. The portal was right there in front of me, like I could reach out and touch it, and suddenly after all these years of being shut, it was porous. An opening that may not have occurred again, if nothing else than due to loosing my nerve, like one of those ultra rare happenings in the sky that comes about every one thousand three hundred and seventy six years.

What would happen if I stepped through, to the place of no return. Everything would change in ways I would never be able to predict or prepare for. This was real jedi training. Could I handle it? was I ready? Like really? Would I be ok? Would this cut my life short in any number of ways and into a million different pieces? And would it matter in the end? Would there be regret? Would I want to go back?

Like an explorer, my mind, filled with doubt, while knowing in the end the answer to be sure: I would step on that ship. I would let the ocean take me. And I would assume the risk because something greater, my dharma, was calling, I simply had to see myself through. To the other shore. I knew I may not make it. Or maybe not all of me would. I knew I would not be intact. But I knew the journey would be mine, honest, rich and full. And sometimes it hurts to grow.

So it is that here we are. Happy 5 years to me! Zero regrets later and never having wanted to go back. May we all be courageous enough to take on the challenges of our lives and the times we live in! Aho!

The Bittersweet Gift Of Impermanence

When I was in college it felt like ringing in the new year was no more than chasing fun. Whatever the decision was for the activity, others seemed to be having more fun than I was and it always felt stressful. Then, in my mid twenties, Tia Cris, mom’s elder sister, mobilized our extended family to go somewhere near Bogotá together for the holidays. When she passed a few years later, heartbroken and because she was the glue that kept us together, those family trips came to an end.

Then, Colombia started to open up for international travel and became safer. We hadn’t had the luxury of seeing our own country while we were growing up in it due to violence. That’s when my sister’s family and I, started taking small trips to see different parts of the country, finally. This was how we found the amazing location, the gem, where I do the Nuqui retreat. A location so far off the beaten path that it took me three or four years to figure out how to bring a group of people there. And now, it has been going for nine years.

Then my dad got very ill. And even those trips came to an end in order to be with him and my mom through all the comings and goings in and out of the hospital. He passed. And not long after, COVID hit. And then a kind of intense, different sort of winter froze everything that grew for the next couple of years.

When we were able to congregate again, yet another configuration took place, our now, very reduced family— my sister, mom, nephew and I— and my cousin Fill’s family. We picked a different little farm to visit every December. But this time, with this group, it was known that I was queer, and it was known that I was trans. Before, those things had either not been out in the open or not readily admitted into space. Which meant that that part of me didn’t exist while I was there. So my heart was always divided between two places that were impossible to feel simultaneously. My heart in the States, while my family was right there with me. This time, though, all parts of me could have a soft landing and feel real. And it finally felt like I wasn’t chasing anything. Like I could just be with my people with no other stress or strain. And my life could exist in its wholeness. The hardship of the years prior had been very helpful in distilling what matters.

And this year, Sarah got to be there for all of it. It was beyond wonderful. Even with the endless family dynamics that are always at play. In years past, we made, and I’ve written about this, one human sized ‘old year’, or año viejo doll and burnt it, along with things we didn’t want to keep and our wishes for the new year. This new year we were in the desert, and due to fire hazard, there was no way of lighting one of those without it being dangerous. So we decided to make little personalized ones.

I’m telling you all of this because I find it interesting how one of these is a ritual created by my family that kind of became a ritual almost by accident, and the second is a ritual that was handed down from my culture, which we, as a family have decided to keep. But I find it fascinating how necessity and time have required those same rituals to permeate and change in order to keep their immediacy. What a glorious thing, to be able to change and adapt things as we grow.

So on the 31st, we set up a shop and with old table cloths and aprons and all sorts of scraps and little treasures from the costumes box from our apartment, and my mom’s sewing kit, we set up a table, and each made a personalized representation of our year to burn at midnight. This was mine. My Beautiful Monster.

But to be honest, when it came down to it, I didn’t want to burn it. Not this year. Because though the year had a steep learning curve and a lot of minutia that is not part of my strong-suit, it was hands down the best year of my life. I made art this year, a love project that went all the way to fruition. I spent time with practically EVERYONE I love. Good amounts of time. I rebuilt connections with friends I had not been in touch with in years. I played and saw music and started to rebuild the dream of getting the band back together. I started to reshape my yoga community. I kept growing in all the ways. And mostly, all of me is now present in all the spaces of my life in all the ways. And I have, because I am incredibly lucky, love, friendship and family. So much so, that it feels sometimes like too much.

It’s not that there weren’t bad things to the year. There definitely were a few, quite complex and complicated, that are quite persistent. It’s just that after everything was said and done, the good way outweighed the bad and I feel like I am able to be in my life in a way that I have simply not been able to up until this point.

And that is the beauty of impermanence. Things are constantly changing and shifting. We must burn the old year, no matter how much we loved it, or hated it, or felt nothing for it, because after all, it is also simply just a moment in time. The same as we must allow things to morph and change as they do to settle into their own new vibration. They can still maintain the signature of what makes them great. There’s the rub, the bittersweetness of it all.

The Road To Nowhere

A couple of weeks ago, at Kripalu, I rediscovered the labyrinth. I didn’t realize that unlike a maze, which is a puzzle where you must find the exit, a labyrinth is meant to lead you down one singular path in a circuitous fashion, only to return you right back down the same path you came from. The road to nowhere. And everywhere. I was surprised at my own relief to not have to succeed or win or really even do anything, apart from putting one foot in front of the other. I took off my sandals bringing the souls of my feet in contact with the damp grass and stepped under the gate’s threshold. It felt like the entryway into another dimension. I’ve always loved moving meditations. The sign recommends setting an intention. I closed my eyes. I’ve never felt capable of setting intentions. My vision feels clumsiest when aimed at the future. It seems I never can or want to pitch a stake in it. The word intention in Sanskrit, sankalpa, can be translated to ‘becoming one with’. So I did what I do when grappling with this conundrum, I asked if I could become one with whatever lay through the gate. A form of shapeshifting.

And as I stepped in, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, feeling the nuance in every step, it was marvelous, the way the walking in rambling circles and spirals amidst the pointy pine trees drew me in on myself. The trees speaking to me in the wind. As I walked, I felt myself meet myself in a very ancient kind of way, I was catching up to myself. For a long period of sustained time I wasn’t going anywhere, my mind wasn’t going anywhere, I was just right there. The road was the adventure, and it was blissful. I could smell everything, hear everything, feel the heat and sweat and air moving, and out of the corner of my eye, I could appreciate the way in which Sarah came and went next to me on her own journey, the path we shared and which I was following which was also my own.

At the center of Kripalu’s labyrinth lives a perfectly weathered laughing buddha laden with unassuming offerings: rocks, flowers, small earthly things. When there are no things to give, the earth still offers a bounty of tiny miracles that could be missed otherwise. 

Then last week, as I ambled out of the gorgeous, light-drenched studio at St. Mark's, after teaching my one in-person class of the week, with nowhere to rush to or be, after someone I adore who used to take class with me ten years ago surprised me, bringing back a flood of memories, I realized I was still in the labyrinth, deepening my practice and the art of going nowhere. Yet being here. Heading right back down the same path I had started with more absorption, yet still in absolute wonder of how it all unfolds.

You know, my first 14 years of teaching were spent commuting—roughly six hours a day. No joke. Teaching anywhere from 18-25 classes a week all at different studios. During the pandemic I was one of the lucky ones and that changed. But when the pandemic struck, I was ragged, beyond a pulp, caught in a bit of a hamster wheel with no other option or job prospects in sight. Other than own a yoga studio, I had hit the ceiling of what I could do. And though the pandemic was overwhelming for sure in lots of ways, and still can be, it was also the physical break I really really needed in order to catch up to myself. 

Your support these past 17 years (truly, for some of you), and especially through the pandemic, has meant that I now have more choice in how my life looks. Which means I also have more to offer. The book feels like a big catalyst. And as the tide pulls back filling the wave before it pounces, I want to thank you, you gave me that time through your support, to make it happen. As the launch gets closer, it’s as if I’m currently tucked away into this really magical moment in my life, one of deep presence inside myself as well as outside myself.  As Hamlet says, “the readiness is all.” And I feel ready. So thank you for being in this labyrinth with me. I can’t wait to experience the twists and turns this new path takes us on together and am forever grateful.

I know working on the book meant I had to stop writing actual blog posts, so consider this, after many moons, the return of The Dharma Blog.

On Hope

“The opposite of war isn’t peace, it’s creation.”
~ RENT (by Jonathan Larson)

Happy International Women’s Day everyone!

Peace can feel passive sometimes, like the absence of war. Which may be a relief. But what is the opposite of war? How can we move toward stale mating it? Creation, building— and I don’t mean necessarily material things, though the destruction of war does bring a need of that as well— feels like the space for hope. Investing in the tissue that holds us together, our common humanity, our communities. I’m talking about the picture of the baby carriages that moms in Poland left at the train stations for refugee moms traveling with babies. I’m talking about people in Berlin holding up signs at the train station saying how many rooms are available in their homes…

I know it feels like there is nothing we can do. I know it is easy to dip into hopelessness. But there are ways we can help Ukraine from here. Lots of organizations to donate to. Send money over by renting out a Ukrainian family’s AirBnB as a way to support them. And if that still feels a bit hollow, there are so many ways in which we can contribute to fascism NOT winning here on our very own turf, where abortion, voting and trans rights are under legal attack RIGHT NOW. These things are all connected in the end by human rights and what may seem like small erosions of our rights, ultimately affect all of us.

If you are feeling overwhelmed right now by the horrible news of this world; if you are having a hard time finding your footing in all the changes, or in what Brené Brown calls ‘The Big Awkward’ of being in person with people again and not only having to navigate new ground rules, but also your own social rustiness; if you feel like it’s hard to see a way forward; and if you feel like there is no hope… maybe it’s time to take action. It’s no secret and studies have shown that people who volunteer, and find ways to become involved are able to alleviate symptoms of depression and have a better general sense of belonging and wellness. And there is so much in the world that can use our attention right now. Here at home and also afar. There are always ways to help, ways to get involved. Ways to help folx who may need it more than we do at this time. We can be the helpers. Even from here.

Here are two great listens that will bring hope your way:
The Book Of Hope by Jane Goodall and Douglas Abrams
Alok: How Do We Interrupt Trauma? How Do We Heal?

Here are some interesting articles on best ways to support Ukraine:
Supporting Ukraine By Booking an AirBNB
How Can You Help Ukrainians?

And here are some ways to become informed and help here at home:
Protect Voting Rights
Protect Trans Rights
Protect Abortion Rights

Rewriting Roles

“Tragedy is the time when you are forced to rewrite all the roles about how your ecosystem works because you don’t get to have the pride of making sure everyone else’s needs are met before your own.”
~ Kate Bowler~

One of the almost imperceptible yet super delicious things I’ve really missed from the past two years is the bhav that is created within a group and the art of enabling its creation. For me, as a leader, it involves the exquisite intuitive process of making choices, often small, and often from the wings, that are unnoticeable but give a rich payoff. It involves a gorgeous dance of being able to stay with my own backbone and simultaneously be receptive, and yes, sometimes acquiesce my own desires in order to gain something more spectacular than what I had planned. It is the art of serving the dynamic of the culture shaped by that specific group at the precise time and place in which it exists.

The fun thing though is that the group dynamic doesn’t just come from me. It can’t. I am merely the guardian of whatever kind of space we decide to co-create together. Which means that in order for it to really spark, each person must feel safe enough (because nothing magical ever happens in complete safety), respected, seen, and most importantly, must be willing to buy in and participate. Carry their part. Each member of the group, including me, holding a string that gives the umbrella around us just the right amount of tension.

It’s real yoga in action— the 5th and 6th limbs darhana and dhyana— which activate our ability to stay within as well as go outside; see the big picture with all its details; care about the self as well as the other…

And after two years in a pandemic, what we want and need is so different than what we wanted or needed before. It’s tempting to continue to try to slog and make things what they were before, but our energy levels and the demands on our resources have made it so that we really do have to figure out how to pivot and adjust to what we need and are capable of right now, moment to moment. We are in our advanced yoga practice, ya’ll.

That made this retreat quite refreshing and different from any other I have led. I had to be really quiet inside myself in order to be able to understand and listen to what was being asked of all of us for the most gorgeous outcome.

This year, the chance to process and reimagine our roles, take care of one another, practice, assist, meditate, laugh, sing, hug, eat delicious meals, and engage in vulnerable, deep, and sometimes scary conversation was life giving. Being mask-free, and cell phone free for a week that felt worry free was so needed in my animal body. I am left feeling humbled and grateful for the opportunity, the community, for touch, the natural world, for tears, conversations, but most of all the laughter. Oh my Goddess! The LAUGHTER!

Though I am fortunate enough to live a life I love, a life I don’t want or need to run away from, I am still always in awe of the magic and beauty of travel and time spent with friends. There really is nothing like it.

Keep your eyes out for the next retreat Fall of 2022 for whale watching season… And for those of you who keep saying you are coming ‘this year’ for the last nine years, if the pandemic has taught us anything, it’s that the time is nigh. Come! The sooner you do, the sooner you get to come home again and again.

Links To All The Things

Ho-ho-holy-Gay Queer!

Oops, I meant CHEER!

The Holidays are always interesting for me being a transplant and feeling split between two worlds. I also have a hard time with the consumerism and pseudo religiosity they involve and always find that I am always happiest when I have less material stuff bogging me down.

What I do love about the Holidays, however, is spending time with friends, the way things slow way down, spending time with family and watching New York City light up like a Christmas tree.

Whether the Holidays feel warm and amazing or stressful for you, I just learned a bit about the science of gratitude that might be useful. Apparently, (I did not know this), the most effective way in which gratitude affects the nervous system is not from expressing gratitude, but from receiving gratitude from someone else.

There’s been a buzz for years on how much gratitude can affect your mood, lifting depression and anxiety, and balancing your autonomic nervous system on top of clear scientific data supporting that it almost immediately lowers your blood pressure, as well as the levels of inflammation in the body, and boosts your immune system and metabolism.

Since the benefits are so strikingly positive, I figured it is valuable to get more specific on the best way to get the greatest benefits from your gratitude practice.

So try this:

Find a story in which one of the people is offering gratitude toward the other that makes you feel all the feels and three times a week, spend 2 minutes, just two minutes, thinking about and going through the story with as much specificity as you can. Letting yourself experience it again. You can also do this with a note, a text or a moment in your life when someone has been grateful for you.

And because we don’t live in a bubble and you still have four days of the week that are open, try using one to three of them to express your heartfelt— and yes, it must be heartfelt, otherwise the person will feel it and it won’t have the same meaning— feeling toward someone you love, boosting their mood and all of their systems.

It is a limitless resource we all have access to. And perhaps, we all too rarely let people know how much we appreciate them.

It’s Fall…Let’s Go In

I had a work meeting a while back, with someone who is quite brilliant, and as we discussed the possibility of working together, she said that it was going to happen because there was energy in it. It felt like the river or flow was taking her in my direction. Since then, her outlook has really stuck with me. Her point of view clear and refreshing, devoid of stress and anxiety. What if I did the same and followed the things in my life that are already energized? That felt easier said than done, mostly because it felt irresponsible to put down certain things down, even if they didn’t feel charged. But recently I have been playing with this idea again and have found a lot of wisdom in it.

Now that it is fall, as my energy quiets and I go into a space of both rumination, gratitude and dreaming. It feels better than it ever has felt to allow myself the space to go internal and both release things I don’t need and nurture the things I want to grow. Looking into the future and having the larger perspective has never been my strong suit but I feel this way of relating and playing with things is helping with that.

If you are feeling a desire to snuggle up with yourself via getting back on your mat, join me for the two week series I am teaching Starting Nov 1-5 &8-12, m-f 12-1:15 ET. Time together will be spent in a combination of discussion and physical practice using a wide variety of tools in the yoga cannon as we follow along and explore Georg Feuerstein’s wonderful audio book together, The Lost Teachings Of Yoga. If you’ve been estranged from your mat, or have the desire to dive a little deeper with a bit of a container, it will be a sweet and powerful way to return to your practice. And I am hoping it will also be delicious.

If you can’t make the sessions live, you can register and receive the sessions after they happen daily in your inbox, and follow along that way. Whatever works best for you.

I know committing to something when everything continues to shift feels challenging and scary. Perhaps accepting the impulse if it is there will help undo any anxiety around it. Especially as the darkness gets longer, it is imperative to continue to find ways of looking after ourselves that continue to bring vibrancy and immediacy to our hearts.

If you can’t afford it but want to be there, send me an email.

Big love, and I hope to see you there.

On Violence & Pronouns & Pride

By Sarah Rubin

Happy Pride, everyone! I’m Sarah and my pronouns are she/her. I’m a white queer cisgender woman and parent of two teen boys, who loves someone who is transgender. Someones, actually. My older son was assigned female at birth and came out as trans around age twelve. Part of my work in the world is supporting the parents and families of transgender youth. Since you are here, reading Miles’ blog, I’m going to assume that you also love someone who is trans. After all, to know Miles is to love him. :) Originally, my intention in writing this was to have a little chat about the importance of pronouns and how best to support and stand with the trans people in your life. You know, a Pride-related PSA. 

However. Before we get there...

It’s impossible to talk about things like pronouns and being misgendered without acknowledging the wider context of systemic racism, transphobia, and misogyny in our culture and institutions, and the ongoing violence against Black people, trans people, and especially Black trans women. 

Here’s a quick run-down of facts, figures and resources: 

• Trans people have always existed. Throughout recorded history and around the world, understandings and experiences of gender have always been fluid and expansive. 

• In the US, trans people have always been marginalized and discriminated against by law. Anti-trans legislation (“bathroom bills”, medical restrictions, etc) across states and municipalities has been rampant, and not just during the Trump era. The Supreme Court’s recent decision to extend Title VII to protect gay and trans people in the workplace is one bright spot in an otherwise discriminatory legal landscape.

• Trans people face disproportionate amounts of violence and discrimination in the US and internationally. Even with what is known and recorded, data is scarce due to misgendering and safety concerns of those reporting. For trans folks who are BIPOC, rates of violence are exponentially worse. 

• Black trans women continue to be murdered at alarming rates in the US. The Human Rights Campaign calls it an epidemic. Again, the numbers are likely much higher because trans murders are often misreported. 

A week ago, Miles and I watched the new Netflix documentary, Disclosure, a trans-directed and trans-produced film that looks at the history of transgender representation in film and television. Watching it, we had to press the pause button many times, exclaiming how this part and that part were total a-ha moments for us both. One repeated refrain throughout the film, spoken in different ways by several interviewees, has stayed with me ever since: the notion that the more trans people are seen, the more violence they face. A quote from the film:

The more positive the representation we have, the more confident our community becomes, and the more confident our community becomes, the more danger we are in. 

Laverne Cox, a producer and on-screen participant in the film, spoke in a podcast interview about the fact that anti-trans legislation coupled with the violence that trans people face is, at its core, an effort to erase trans people all together. To combat this erasure, she says, 

“...yes, we need public policies in place, the police need to be defunded...but, we’ve had a Civil Rights Act since 1964, and racism still exists. So the work, the deep, deep work is each and every one of us interrogating the ways in which we’ve internalized white supremacy, the ways in which we’ve internalized transphobia and sexism and misogyny and how we may perpetuate that. 

This internal work is, to me, utterly essential. More of Ms. Laverne’s brilliance: 

The work of coming to critical consciousness…[is that] of doing the internal work and holding ourselves accountable...Then we have to treat each other better interpersonally, then we have to change ideology, then we have to change institutions, and these things can all happen simultaneously. 

So here’s the thing. ALL OF THESE THINGS CAN HAPPEN SIMULTANEOUSLY. Which means! Even if you don’t personally understand what it means to be trans...you can still choose to support the trans people in your life while you’re learning. You can still choose to learn while you’re out in the streets protesting in support of Black trans lives. You can still protest while you’re putting in the effort with your trans friends. Above all, you can do all these things while you’re doing your internal interrogation work. It’s not a linear process. 

And you can also screw up and make mistakes! It’s ok!

Which brings me back to pronouns. Among the trans youth I work with, the number one thing they find most painful on a day-to-day basis is being misgendered (being referred to by the wrong pronouns) and deadnamed (being called by their birth name). Let’s be clear about this: trans, gender non-conforming, and non-binary folks have the right to be called by whatever name and pronouns feel right to them. If we can remember to call someone Liz and not Elizabeth, if we can ask for and remember the correct pronouns of the neighbor’s dog, we can respect trans folks’ name and pronouns. 

Let’s also be clear: even if there’s no ill intent, misgendering and deadnaming someone is an act of violence. To be polite, I could call this a microaggression. Being called by the wrong pronouns is not the same as being physically assaulted for being visibly trans (though misgendering is often used as a weapon by perpetrators of anti-trans violence and the media as well). However, I’m going to have to stand my ground on this one. To repeatedly misgender someone, even unconsciously, is to say my discomfort and/or laziness is more important than your personhood. To be repeatedly misgendered is to hear you don’t see me or care enough to make an effort. Misgendering is erasure and erasure of someone’s full humanity is inherently violent. 

Here’s the good news: to support our trans loved ones by not misgendering them, all we need to do is make an effort. That’s it! A continued, good faith effort. Here’s how:

• If you don’t know, ask. Don’t know or forgot someone’s pronouns? It’s ok to ask what name or pronouns they use. 

• Yes, “they” is a singular pronoun. If you struggle with getting this one, practice calling your pet by they/them pronouns. 

• Just keep trying. Again, it’s the continued effort that counts, not getting it right all the time. Be open to gentle correction, but remember that it’s up to you to make this shift. Try not to expect your trans loved one to keep reminding you.

• If you mess up, just correct yourself and keep it moving. Making a big deal of mistakes just causes unwanted attention and gets in the way of conversation. 

Side note: for most trans folks, being constantly misgendered - by their friends, family, or the world at large - only increases their gender dysphoria. However, the flip-side is pretty sweet. For most trans folks, the experience of hearing their correct name and pronouns - especially from people who know and love them - gives them a feeling of gender EUPHORIA. Look: the world fails to meet trans folks half way, or even a quarter of the way, every day. So, be someone who bridges that gap. Offer euphoria, not dysphoria!

Like you, I am extremely blessed to know and love and be loved by some extraordinary humans of trans experience. My son Dylan has taught me more than he’ll ever know about what it looks like to claim and live one’s truth. It is an honor and privilege to be his - and my younger son’s - mom. Finding love with Miles has been the gift of my life and I’ve discovered more of myself through loving him than I previously knew existed. At the same time, it should not even matter whether or not I have trans people in my life. It is my baseline responsibility as a cisgender person to do the work of educating myself, so as not to perpetuate violence.

In honor of Pride’s radical, riotous roots, let’s love our people as best we can. Let’s stand with and donate to Black trans women and femmes. Let’s learn from and fight alongside them, because systems of oppression threaten the humanity of us ALL. Let’s continue to do the work of decolonizing our minds and hearts. And, let’s be ok with making mistakes along the way. Effort, not perfection. 

PS: Please reach out to me with any gender-related questions or for further educational resources. I’m happy to do that emotional labor so that Miles doesn’t have to. 

PPS: Miles uses he/him pronouns.