I saved a woman’s life over NYE…

It’s late. I have lots of family coming into town tomorrow. I’m distracted by the news we’ve just received of my mom’s cancer. It’s spread into her bones. We don’t know how long she has…we just don’t.

And it’s been one of those days, ya know, when you work your arse off and more keeps coming your way. We’ve all had ’em. they can be frustrating, and they can be filled with unexpected beauty, as well.

I ran into a former student at the Trader Joe’s in Woodland Hills and met her four year old boy. What a cutie-pie!  We reminisced. She told me she enjoyed my emails. We spoke a bit about where I was teaching these days. 

A heartfelt request — I could use everyone’s help: I want to start teaching a prenatal/postnatal class + a non-preggers class. I’d love any intro’s to studio owners in the West Valley (Woodland Hills, West Hills, Calabasas…) or upper SaMo/Palisades, but only to studios that YOU think are a good fit for my energy. Most of you know me from being your yoga teacher. All my contacts are Venice/Mar Vista/WestLA and Eastside studios. And it’s time. it’s time to start sharing in a public space again. (thanks!)

So…my email I had prepped is about the time when I saved a woman’s life. Originally, I was going to connect it to the importance of ritual, but that isn’t going to happen. My heart’s been heavy these past two days. When I feel frustrated like this and kinda stuck, I do a heart-expansive meditation. This technique always bring me back to what truly is, and not what is just in front of me. It’s my practice when I need to expand beyond sorrow, frustration, anger and fear. I want to share what helps me — a 6 min meditation, one for heart-heavy times. Quick Meditation for Tough Times. 

For those of you who want more meditations, just ask! I’m currently beta-testing six!!! Ask and ye shall receive… all I want is your feedback.

Sherri K described her experience with the Mini Full Body Relaxing Meditation: “Thanks Aria!! Tried the first one tonight. So great! The baby woke up exactly when I finished and was totally relaxed LOL”

I can hear some of you…. just tell us the story.

OK….

Gotcha… Here ya go. Enjoy!

I saved a woman’s life this past NYE….or so she believes. 

We were in Colorado. My friends own property near Lemon Lake, about 10 miles outside of Durango —  – a cabin and a converted barn. These are long-time friends of 20 years,  awesome, incredible, heart-felt, honest to goodness, salt-of-the-earth kinda people. They had invited a huge group of us to celebrate and ring in the New Year. We were families, couples and singles: about 30 adults and 10 kids. We’d spent the week tubing, skiing, hiking, exploring, having fun, and now it was the big night. After dinner, the DJ’s started spinning. Kiddos and adults danced until it was time for the kiddos to retreat to the cabin (we’d hired a sitter.)  The adults hung out in the barn, danced, talked and had fun. Some of these amazing folks had traveled all the way from Oklahoma! Some I hadn’t seen in over 10 years. By 4:15am, I was exhausted and needed to crash. I was staying with a friend, way across town, and instead of driving back through town and all the way over to my temporary home, friends had invited us to crash at their rented cabin down the road. 

10 minutes later, we pulled up into the garage The access code worked. We walked inside and set up a sleeping couch/futon.  I turn around to go upstairs and make a cuppa tea, when I see a nude woman, clutching a button down shirt that’s waaayyyy to small for her around her shoulders, screaming, 

“MELISSA!  MELISSA?”

“Hi… I’m Aria.” 

I hear the shower, going. 

“MELISSA, where are you?”

I walk closer and ascertain her energy…she doesn’t feel dangerous. Scared out of her wits, but not dangerous. I talk to her for a few minutes only to realize that she doesn’t know anyone in my group of friends, nor the two families renting that cabin, nor the owner of the cabin.  Who is she? She’s nude, trembling, and screaming for Melissa. How did she get in there? What’s her story? 

“I think you just saved my life,” she says “I thought I was going to die. I can’t feel my foot. I have to go back in the shower.”

Huh?

The shower kept going for another hour, during which I kept checking on her, every 5-10 minutes. I talked to her calmly. I brought her some hot tea and some water. I didn’t know if she was on anything and was concerned that she might faint in that hot, hot shower. She started to trust me and told me bits and pieces:

She’d been chased by a demon. She’d been running all night. Strange things had followed her. She didn’t think she would live.

What happened to her clothes? Where were her friends?

Gone. 

One foot was numb and black and she kept massaging it. I asked if I could call any family members or friends. 

Nobody, she begged me. I wondered if one of her friends had hurt her (?)

I told her we should call the police and get an ambulance.

Please, she begged.  Please, just let me shower. Please.

She sounded like she had been raped and I wanted to honor her wishes — give the woman space to shower and rinse off the experience before having to explain it all to the cops. 

I told her I could wait until she got out of the shower. But what about her foot?

Please, she begged me. Please let me shower. The hot water is helping my foot.

OK.

What emerged that evening was incredible. Instead of coming back to a cabin to sleep and rest for a few hours before turning back around to pick up Kaia, who was asleep with the other kids in the cabin, I ended up Doula’ing this stranger. I massaged her legs and her foot. I did energy work on her foot. I gave her tea. Water. Food. I called 911 and stayed on the phone with them while the paramedics came (this took over 25 minutes.)  I gave her a bunch of my warm clothes, including a beanie I had just bought that matched my daughter’s. It was a special beanie, but she needed it more than I did.

After the paramedics took her away, they told us that she has mental issues and has had breakdowns in the past.

They were shocked that she survived the frost and the cold. This young woman had climbed UP AND DOWN AN ENTIRE MOUNTAIN, in the dark, naked, with no shoes. Just a sock wrapped around one foot.

She called me her guardian angel. We later connected over Facebook and she told me about her history of mental illness. 

I found out later, through my friend, that she still calls me her guardian angel.

I’m not sure why. All I did was help another person. I doula’d her. I talked to her. I massaged her. I took care of her.

Isn’t that something we would all do for another human being?

I don’t think I deserve that term – “saved her life.”

But those are her words,….not mine.

And her blackened foot? Remarkably, it was saved. 

The heat drives me bonkers…

Most of my years in LA have been by the ocean, where it’s a comfy 65- 78 degrees, year round. If it hits 80 degrees, whew! Bring on the complaints…we are having a heat wave. I never got migraines in Venice or Santa Monica or Mar Vista. I used to feel miserable all summer long in Tucson. When I lived in the MId-City area, I got them occasionally. But it’s been awhile, and I forgot about how bad they can be.

Now that I’m in Topanga, with no AC, if it gets to be 90 -100 degrees, they start creeping up on me. If I go to the valley, where it’s been 104 – 118, I get ’em in less than 20 minutes. Pound. Pain. Misery. Absolutely hate ’em.

So I can either be miserable (and for good reason), or I can find a way to create gratitude amongst my discomfort.

Gratitude Exercise #1: Luckily, my Topanga home is about 10-15 degrees cooler than the outside because I’m halfway “underground,” built into the side of a hill. Luckily, I have multiple fans, including a mini-swamp-cooler fan moving air inside. Luckily, if I mainly head out only in the morning and evening, it’s absolutely gorgeous and if I stay inside during the day, I can manage.

Gratitude.

Ya know what else I’m grateful for? After a month of searching….We have a puppy!!! 

Riley is a gorgeous, 8 month old German Shepherd female. Her owner couldn’t care for her anymore. We were the first people to call in on his ad and the first to meet her. It was wuuuvvv… twooo wwuvvv at first site (if you don’t get that reference, rent “The Princess Bride” tonight). When we walked into her (previous) owner’s home, she didn’t bark. Instead, she came over gently and sniffed me. Sniffed Kaia.

And then laid down right at Kaia’s feet. That was the sign I was looking for. She wanted us!

She’s been an angel and I am so grateful.

Living in and with the bright side of everything is my only choice because any other choice, frankly, is emotionally exhausting and out of my control. Like with my 14th year, post car-accident, where I didn’t take a single step for nine months: In the hospital, in traction, on my back for a month. In a brace and wheelchair for two months. In a body cast for six months. Then on crutches for more months. I held onto Gratitude…for the things that I had.

Nothing is more important than Life itself.

If you’re reading this and you’re not grateful just to be alive, you have a serious problem. Correct it, any way you can. Religion helps. Spirituality helps. Exercise helps. Meditation helps. I’m not going to tell you how to find your path because it’s yours. And I’m not here to judge anyone else’s path. . Because I can promise you this. if you can’t find JOY for being ALIVE, you’ll never be HAPPY. No relationship, career, no amount of money, no amount of experiences, no amount of pleasure will make you happy. Nothing.

Doesn’t mean you have to be happy-happy-joy-joy fake all the time. That’s BS. Feel what you need to feel and practice non-attachment to the feeling. Be in the moment. I get angry when I need to. I feel sadness when I need to. I feel frustration and powerlessness when I need to. And then, I let it go.

This week at the gym, I felt it all: tremendous frustration, powerlessness and sadness. I hate gyms. Not my place at all. And I hate the Valley (sorry, Valley people. Not my place at all.) So I’m at a gym in the Valley, and I have all my inner sh*t going for me about the heat and being in a gym. On top of that, the gym brings back memories of my car accident and self-rehab.

After my accident, I never got proper PT. I used the machines at the gym to try and build back muscle on my severely atrophied left leg, but I never built it back correctly. Now, I’m back, rebuilding my atrophied Vastus Medialis. All it took was the leg extension machine, and I was immediately plunged into sadness, frustration, anger and feeling helpless. I felt frustration from the physical pain of the loose pieces of bone that are still present and occasionally become lodged where they shouldn’t be.

Stem cell therapy is healing my cartilage, but no one promised me it would get rid of the loose pieces of bone. One in particular is 1/2″ long and when it gets lodged in the meniscus, it hurts. Hopefully, over time, it gets lodged in a “happier place.” 

Even more so than pain, I felt powerlessness. I went back in time to the body of that 14 year old girl, who had no power in her physical form. It all came back to me, in a fraction of an instant on the leg extension.

On the way back from the gym, I recognized my gratitude again. I can walk without pain. I can climb stairs and hike without pain. How freaking awesome is that?

So…whatcha holdin’ onto today?

The crap? The shit? The maddening things that are outta your control?  Is that what you talk about when you reach out to your friends? Your problems?

Ever notice how talking about your problems just spins the energy round and round? It feeds it. And then, next time you see your friends, you have to update them on those same problems, which may have just stayed in the past, but you just brought them back up again…pretty soon, it becomes habitual. I need to vent, you say. But really, that’s just BS. You are just addicted to feeding your problem with your words, your vital life force. In the end, it’s an endless cycle of crap…

Why not practice talking about your joys? Your loves? Your moments of humor and living life? Practice talking about the things with your control. Practice empowering yourself.

I like to uphold and give attention and space to the fragments of joy that can be found anywhere and everywhere, if but look… And if I absolutely need to vent about something, I do so. But if I find myself venting about the same thing more than once, then I have a problem and I need to work it out differently and ASAP.

..usually it gets worked out through meditation, writing, movement, time in nature, de-toxing from energy vampires and self-inquiry…

Rex and Baby, Senya, Masha, Ellie…

My daughter and I have been looking for a German Shepherd pup/young dog to adopt. We’ve been looking for a month and it hasn’t happened yet.

I love dogs. Grew up with them. My Russian Grandfather came to visit us in 1977. During that visit, he helped his daughter (my mom) choose our first dog. I was 5 years old and I still remember that day. We bought an AKC German Shepherd and aptly named him Rex.

Rex was incredible. Loyal. Loving. Brave. Sweet. He used to take care of our deformed pigeon, Baby, that we rescued.

Yup, you read that right. The pigeon’s wings didn’t work. In fact, were it not for my love of pigeons and my mom’s love of all animals, Baby wouldn’t have survived. His mom kept kicking him out of his nest. We didn’t know and kept putting him back in. Then one day, I saw his mom push him out. Turns out the pigeon’s wings didn’t work. He couldn’t fly. At all. I named him Baby and he became our backyard pigeon pet.

Rex and Baby were buds. They used to hang out in the together. At night, Baby used to sleep curled up in Rex’s tail. During the day, he’d hop on Rex’s back and enjoy playtime in our backyard. When we took Rex to the park, he’d give Baby rides on his back.

You should have seen the looks we would get. A full size, gorgeous German Shepherd, running through the park with a pigeon clamped on his back. Baby would lift his deformed wings. I can only imagine it felt like he was flying.

Baby’s life didn’t end well.. but that’s for another story. Rex lived a full life. He died at age 11, peacefully, under a tree in our backyard. My parents were on vacation and I was trying to get Rex back in the house. I kept YELLING his name and just figured he was asleep. He was old. He had developed hip dysplasia and had been going deaf for some time. Finally went over to the tree, shook him and realized he was dead.

After Rex we adopted a shelter-found Cocker Spaniel we named Senya, then Masha, a German Shepherd mix from the North LA Animal Shelter, and then last year, Ellie – whom we found through our friends Jake and Sean, via the Westside German Shepherd Rescue. Ellie died this May, at 11 months old after a long battle with some unknown pathogen/tumor in her brain. She went through a battery of specialists at the VCA, tests, drugs and antibiotics. Nothing helped. No one had an answer for us. She died on May 9.

As you can tell, I’m a dog person. And a bird person. Ever since childhood, I’ve always had one or both.

It’s taken me almost 3 months to seriously look for another dog.

In the past, I’ve never had a problem finding a younger dog at a shelter. Something is different now. Not sure exactly what. I keep trying to get dogs that I think are good for us and one by one, it hasn’t happened. Today alone, we missed a dog by 4 minutes (traffic. Had to park 3 blocks away and arrived at the Humane Society South Bay 10:04am. Someone was already there with the dog we wanted.) Then we went to a high kill shelter in Carson and were denied 10 dogs by the staff… who believes that every single one wasn’t appropriate for younger children. These were dogs aged 6 months – 6 years and my daughter is 10YO. I was told by a rescue group that these shelters are afraid of getting sued and they tell that about almost every stray  – “not good with young kids.”

We’re trying. And yes, you’re right —  I can get one from a rescue. I have my own reasons why I prefer a shelter or the Humane Society. Maybe that’s my lesson. Don’t try and “save” a dog. Just get one that’s already been saved. (?)

Either that or it’s just not the right time.

In the meantime, this is what I’m learning: Give it my all and show my daughter that getting something you want takes effort and commitment.

My goal is for her to have the animal-fueled joy and laughter and memories that I did.

Have any fun animal stories you want to share? Send ’em over.

And the meditations – almost ready. I’ve recorded four. Need to pare them down. Or maybe I’ll just send out links to all….

Happy Weekend Y’all.

P.S. -New to this list or haven’t opened the last few and wondering – why the hell is she writing me about her animals? I contacted her for yoga or four doula services or for a handstand workshop (or whatevs)…it’s all good. Just unsubscribe at your Unsubscribe Link below.

And if you’re in LA, dear God, stay cool. It’s freaking hot out here. 

P.P.S. – I’m going to start putting up old emails up on my Blog.  My blog emails will be at least 3-4 weeks behind what you get on this list.

I hid myself for years…

Don’t talk to anyone about personal things.
Don’t share your problems.
Don’t ever talk about money. That’s impolite.
Keep it to yourself.
Be strong.
Don’t show weakness…ever.
Don’t ever cry in front of others.
Pray. Ask God for help.
Sin? Ask God for forgiveness.
Always listen to your elders.
Be silent unless spoken to.

I know, I’m not the only one who grew up like this…

Gotta say, though, being an immigrant (born in the USSR to a Russian dad and Egyptian mom) certainly didn’t make it easier to communicate my truth.

I was always different. Different food. Different language at home. Different parents with “weird” accents. Different clothes (always hand-me-down’s from church.) Different ideals, values and more.

When my car accident happened on my 14th birthday, I became different once again. So I tried to become the same as everyone else, and I quit talking about it.

Now, many many years later, it’s affecting me in ways I can no longer hide. Renal fatigue for months, patterned with huge physical limitations that affected me my whole life but are now manifesting in physical issues I can no longer pretend aren’t there,… nor do I want to.

I was granted a second chance at life is so that I could share my story, share the therapies and modalities that have kept me active, alive and faring far better than every single doctor’s prediction.

Instead – I hid behind the cloud of sameness, even though I would never be the same.

At one point in my mid twenties, I started to blossom and reflect my true inner self, specifically spiritual realizations and beliefs I had come to. I started talking and stopped hiding. Instead of being accepted, I was banged upside the head(emotionally speaking) for exposing myself and my truth. And so, I hid again. It was familiar territory, after all. A deep, well-worn groove, which left me uncertain, with very little inner confidence for many years to come.

I could support all the world around me…and I could do it very very well. But I couldn’t support myself. I hide no more.

A TRUE STORY ABOUT HIDING and HATING, and the SIMPLICITY and POWER OF SPEECH:

It was probably 2001 or 2002, and I was walking to Shiva Rea’s 4:15pm Tuesday yoga class at Sacred Movement. It was a hugely popular class and I liked getting there a bit early… I was running a tad late, and decided to cut through the alleyways to get there quicker…

Venice has always been filled with homeless guys. I kinda like them. They reflect all the things that most of us wish weren’t right in front of us. Rarely, do I feel threatened by them.

So this homeless guy up ahead of me kept turning around, looking right at me. He didn’t feel dangerous, and I could tell he wanted something. Wonder if he’s going to ask me for money, or a smoke, or something…I thought. I was about 15 feet away when he turned, stopped and stared right at me. I caught his eye and nodded.

“Can you stop walking behind me?” he said.

“Sure,” I answered, “no problem. How about I walk next to you, is that OK?”

He nodded. We walked in silence for a few feet. “I can’t have anyone walk behind me,” he stammered, “after the war…”

“The Vietnam war?”

He nods.  “I just can’t.”

“That’s OK,” I answered. “I’m happy to walk next to you.”

“I did horrible things,” he says to me.

I just look at him.

“They made us to horrible things. I’ll never forgive myself. I did horrible things to women. To children. I hate myself for that. And when someone walks behind me, it brings me back to that place. I just can’t…”

He starts to cry, then stops himself.

“That’s OK,” I answer. “It isn’t your fault. That was in your past. They made you do it.”

“But you don’t know what I did…”

I begin to be grateful that it’s still daylight and not dead of night. I maintain my steady pace and maintain eye contact. “I don’t hate you. And I know God doesn’t hate you.”

“You think so?” He’s wiping away tears.

“I know so.”

“You believe in God?” he asks me, “with all the evil in the world…”

“Yes, I do.” I answer. “Not the God I was taught to believe. Not the God of the Bible, of Christianity, but yes, I believe in a Creator, an Intelligence, a Universal Force.”

“And you think God will forgive me?”

“I’m certain of it.” I smile, look down at my watch. “I’m sorry. I’m late for a class. Do you mind if I walk in front of you? Is that OK?”

He nods and I make my way to class…

hey, I’d love your advice about something…

I hear you. I’m a single mom 1/2 the time, which means little to none personal time. The other half the time, I do my best to work harder/do better/be better, which still means not a whole of personal time. So I hear ya – the idea of setting aside 20, 30 minutes a day to sit and do nothing sounds a bit outrageous….until you try it and realize that it actually creates more time. Cuz when I meditate, my mind is more focused, more productive and less likely to be reactive.

I discovered meditation purely out of necessity while in the hospital, though I had no terminology for it back then. I hadn’t grown up meditating. I’d grown up praying, and what I did was different than prayer.

I had just come out of one week in ICU and pretty much don’t remember a thing because I was so drugged up on pain meds. My accident had left my body without my left kidney or spleen, and my mom, a former Feldsher (Physician’s Assistant) in the Soviet Union, warned me of how much strain pain meds put on my remaining kidney, which was recovering and still in shock, trying to adapt to keeping my body healthy all on its own. She encouraged me to only use pain meds if I absolutely needed them. Being half Russian and stubborn as hell, I decided I didn’t need them at all. I refused all pain meds. The nurses didn’t believe me, but after 5 days of not requesting anything and refusing to press that little button that would deliver a dosage of pain relief, the finally removed the pain med IV drip.

What this meant, however, is that I had to figure out how to deal with the constant pain I was in.

I began with gratitude – I am alive. I have two eyes. I have two arms. I have two legs. I can hear. I can see. I can think. I’m not paralyzed. One day I’ll be able to walk again.

I also sought out mental distractions. I had a TV in my room, but couldn’t stomach it. Made me depressed, so I had it covered up. Instead, I devoured 10 books every few days.

In between reading, I discovered that if things got really bad, I could relax my body by focusing my awareness (meditating) on the smallest of visual distractions available to me –the patch of sunlight in the narrow window in the corner of my hospital room, or the shadow of a bird, passing by. My pain diminished. Slowly, with practice, I learned to transfer my awareness away from the physical and dull the pain by retraining my mind. The process got easier and easier.

I got so good at it that I was happy and smiling <most of the time.>  Let me clarify: I wasn’t happy about all the tubes coming in and out of me: in my throat, down my esophagus, one into my aorta, hovering just above my heart, oxygen tubes into my nose, multiple IV’s. Gradually, I lost all of these, each time one went away – another point of gratitude upon which to focus my awareness.

I was stationary in bed — my broken leg suspended in traction, partially held up by a very painful screw entering one side of my tibia and exiting through the other, staples all down my stomach. Every two days, the nurses would clean the around the entry point of the screw..that sucked. So did cleaning the staples down my stomach. That was painful.  But I got so good at focusing my awareness, that I was happy.

None of it mattered anymore.

I started cheering up the people who visited me.

I even had nurses who would come hang out with me after their shifts ended.I remember one nurse, in particular. She was so sweet. She’d come in after her shift and give me a manicure. We’d laugh. She used to tell me that I cheered her up. I didn’t know what to make of that statement until years later.

Speaking of nurses – God bless that woman and God bless all nurses. If you’re a nurse, you are a true hero. Thank you for all that you do.
Okay…I digress…

Without realizing it, meditation became my thing, which is probably why I’ve managed to stay employed as a private yoga teacher for so many years. Sure, I give incredible yoga and I also give incredible meditations.

So here’s where I’d love your feedback and advice…

I’m getting ready to record a few free meditations to give away to everyone on my list as a thank you for being on the list and a way to encourage you to meditate more frequently. Figure, about 8 minutes long or so…which are you most interested in?

— A body-breath-centered meditation that relaxes you all the way from you toes up towards the skull…  this is more of an evening/relaxing/savasana meditation

— An inner energy/light and chakra meditation that aligns and opens us from the inside out? This is more of a morning/wake up meditation.

Pregnant mamas, – I’m already putting together free meditations one per first two trimesters, and three during the 3rd trimester….so you are covered!

Shoot me back and email and lemme know whatcha think!

Thanks!

Feeling crappy can make ya happy…  (huh?)

(by Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock)

I was 8 years old. Truth be told, I wasn’t allowed to listen to popular music back then, just classical and religious music. So it wasn’t until many years later, in the underground club/rave circuit, that I actually heard Joy and Pain for the first time. And those lyrics have stuck with me ever since.

A Yogi Bhajan quote mimics the same idea:

#TruthBomb

The truth always sticks to us, whether we like it or not.

This is why I believe being crappy can actually help ya become happy. They’re two sides of the same coin. One can not exist without the other.

In order to fully dive into joy, we must feel and process the pain when it arises.

Most of the time, I’m pretty darn happy…probably because I spent so many years living in and with constant physical pain. I still have pain.If I don’t do a meditation and movement practice DAILY, I’m in pain. That’s the gift of my car accident. It keeps me in the present moment.

People have doubted the sincerity of my happiness. “You’re just faking it so that people will want to be around you.”

Ummm…no.

When I’m sad, trust me, I’m sad. I’m just usually not the person who will call you to tell you I’m sad. Tallking it out doesn’t work for me. Taking about my sadness just spins the energy round and round, making me drown in confusion.

What works for me is to FEEL the sadness. Feeling helps me release it. I have to face my sadness and look my demons in the eye. Only then do they disappear.

Like this past May, when my puppy, Ellie, died at just 11 months old. Silly me, I took her off of pet insurance because she was “healthy and a puppy” and I was moving and thought Id’ save the $50/month for a few months. Well, that $100 of savings ended  up costing me $3000. I kept thinking – she’s just a puppy. We have to figure out what’s wrong with her. Several vets, several specialists, including a Neurologist at the VCA, an insane amounts of tests, scans, XRAYs, ultrasounds, and meds (antibiotics and steroids), later, and no one ever figured it out. My sweet Ellie died with my hand on her heart. I felt her shudder as she expressed her last breath. Still makes me cry. I gave so much of myself to her. I loved her with all my heart.

If you follow me on Instagram (@yogawitharia), you would’ve seen my Ellie posts. You would’ve seen my tears. I was raw and open with my sorrow. I didn’t try to hide it.

And because I’m usually so positive and happy, I had people ask me if I was OK.

Yup. I’m OK. I’m just feeling.

Kinda strange that our world doesn’t seem to honor the process of feeling sadness. We cover it up. Here – have a drink. Have a smoke. Go out. Talk to someone. Watch a show. Drown it in distraction. Take some meds. (disclaimer – not saying that any of the above is a bad thing, but it can be overused.)

I have to FEEL. Without FEELING my sorrow, how can I ever be free of it? How in the world can I truly appreciate our JOY?

When I give myself space to FEEl and GRIEVE,  I don’t stay sad for long because it’s a gift be ALIVE, and I appreciate every single moment.

What’s the secret to happiness, I’ve been asked.?

I can tell you what it’s not.

It’s not focusing on being happy.
It’s not through positive affirmations that I don’t <feel> inside of me.
It’s not through drinking or smoking or any other addiction/distraction.

For me, it’s having lived with pain. Pain has made me happy. Because even when I am in pain, I am reminded that , back in 1986,I could have been dead. But I’m ALIVE.

And WOW – when I’m not in pain, does it feel GOOD to be out of pain. That’s part of the reason I became a yoga teacher. Yoga helped me exit pain and I love to share that. It’s why I’m motivated to wake up early and do my movement practice every day. Why live with pain and on pain meds when I can move and be mostly pain free?

My brother, who just finished chemo and radiation, expressed the same thing to me the other day. “Ya know, it feels good just not to be in pain,” he laughed. “Isn’t it funny how that happens? Not being in pain is enough to make me really happy.”

He’s right.

So maybe here’s a new pice of info for most of you: Both my mom and brother are going through different cancer journeys this year. I don’t care to share details because it is THEIR journey and not mine. But suffice to say, neither is easy.

My friend, Ed, told me the other day – “Are you just going – WTF, Universe? First your knee, then your mom, then your brother, then your knee – again, and then Ellie?”

“I dunno, Eddy,” I answered. “I guess I’m just asking for the balance on that.” I’ve had so much to process this last year and a half, from my the remnants of my car accident coming to shake me and my life, to my family becoming ill, then Ellie. I know it’s making me stronger in who I am. “I’m asking the Universe for balance, now. I’ve had a lot of stuff happen, most of it not easy. Now I’m inviting the good.”I’m ready for the good.

And ya know what?

Regardless, it’s the PAIN that has brought me JOY. I believe that without looking into the darkness, I may never have appreciated  the light. Without suffering, I may never truly appreciate what not suffering is.

I’m not sure how that translates to you. I hope you don’t have to go through all the pain I’ve gone through to become happy. We each have our own path.

Gratitude, and being Present. Those are my secrets to Happiness.

On a side note — I’m writing you from Carmax in Oxnard, where I just sold my Prius and am found the perfect used white JEEP at a dealership next door.

15 years driving a Prius, one of the ugliest (and most practical) cars in the Universe. I’m so done, done, done! 

I’m inviting FUN into my life.

Ahhh, now THAT makes me happy.

Happy Friday, y’all!