Around fifteen years ago, as my heart was being broken under the weight of betrayal, a friend of mine came to visit. When she arrived, I shared with her the shiny red journal I kept that detailed my wedding plans; now shattered dreams. She alarmed me when she broke into tears.

Later I understood [or interpreted] that she shed the tears that somehow I couldn’t at the time. This incident became a turning point for me and slowly I began to invite and embrace my tears.

Whenever I hear someone say – like a badge of honor – I never cry — it frightens me. Because I know that behind unshed tears live unhealed wounds.

In my chosen field of work as a catalyst for change, one prerequisite is an ability to create and hold safe space that invites the vulnerability of others. Yet rarely do I find myself in such a space that nurtures me and invites me to openly cry my own river.

For anyone who has or is wading through grief, to say the process is not easy is an understatement. I’ve noticed too that she – for her attributes are deeply feminine – has a tendency to reveal herself when we least expect it. Mother Nature is generally the place – and usually when sat before bodies of water – where I feel safe to weep openly and unapologetically.

Cocooned in airplanes on long haul flights also seem appropriate – except here I hide behind my eye shades with a blanket pulled over my head and my hands holding my ‘belly-bottom.’ Over these past nine days while traversing from the West Coast to the South-East Coast of the USA, I have bawled my eyes and heart out.

I recognize that some of these tears I cry are not my own. Especially as I headed towards the East Coast my body felt the fear and anger that hung heavily in the damp air. Having lived in America for a significant part of my life, I am aware that my feelings are legitimate.

The current agenda to divide, conquer and separate is immense and intense. On a flight from Orlando to Detroit sat behind me were a grandmother and her toddler grandson. He kept kicking the back of my seat. I turned around to ask her to try and restrain him and I could literally see the defense rise up in her eyes. I said, ‘he’s a child, I understand it’s not intentional.’ Her shoulders dropped and I heard her say to him, ‘the lady understands but you need to stop it.’ Immediately he ceased.

I diverged a bit from my own tears.

While attending and participating in Motivating the Masses Speak and Write 2018 event this past weekend, I peeled away layers buried so deep in my sub-conscious, I had taken them on to be a natural part of my cellular fabric. As Susie Carder so lovingly reminded us, your story is not your [entire] life story.

Again with my hand at the base of my abdomen, when my 50 year old limiting belief arose – the one that unbeknownst I have dragged around – from boardroom to bedroom – a wave of release took over and I cried uncontrollably – along with another 400 or so human beings. The deep, profound healing that took place as a result of our collective wail was not only for those of us who were present.

It was our Cry Freedom for our ancestors and humanity at large. When we cry and heal ourselves, our Earth Mother who takes in so much yet asks nothing in return immediately absorbs this soothing energy.

Increasingly we can see that She is starting to reach a tipping point; otherwise referred to as ‘natural disasters.’

Blessed with the privilege of being human, we owe it to the planet to heal ourselves so that she may continue to sustain Life ahead.

Dare to be brave enough to wash away all that no longer serves your highest good.

And so it is.

Surely it must be more than just a tally of social media followers. It seems to me that ultimately it boils down to how effectively and successfully we manage to craft our stories.

Take mine for example: 25 years of UN service, coupled with 15 years of mindfulness through yoga and a whole lot of creative energy in between. When we meet supposedly like-minded beings, the gauging, mundane question is: ‘what do you do?’

I cringe whenever I hear this as sub-consciously it brings up feelings of unworthiness and lack. Yet, my glossy dossier of life experience, travel and such infused with my passions and visions thankfully quickly over-ride my feelings of self-doubt filling me with the re-assurance that everything in my life has successfully prepared me for who I am.

What might one discover about me if that question were re-framed to ask: ‘what is your purpose?’ Many modern-day professionals no longer fit into a tidy box of a singular job description. Self-awareness gives rise to enhanced consciousness, which oftentimes reveals more than meets the naked eye.

A quest for a purpose-filled life often means that we’re always ‘on the clock.’ In other words, there’s no ‘punch out time’ when one chooses to live on purpose and with passion. Work is play and play is work. Immense fulfillment is gained from our livelihood, which brings forth abundance in all areas of our lives. 

As a transformation coach, regularly I meet people who have quit their ‘day jobs’ in search of depth and meaning to their lives. I certainly left the organizational confines of a seemingly respectable job for similar reasons. Who I was choosing to be and what I did for a living didn’t set my heart on fire. I knew what I knew and I knew what I didn’t know. What I’ve learned in the last six years – since taking an insane leap of faith into the vortex of the unknown – is that my richest possibilities are born from this limitless well.

Perhaps seduced by a plethora of self-development gurus, I focused on getting to know, understand and love myself. Love? Where is there room for this in the workplace? And yet in its absence, there is ‘no-thing.’

Nowadays I fill my heart and my time with my purpose: supporting able and willing beings to step into the fullest version of themselves. How? One way is offering yoga classes to a vast cross-section of ‘self-seekers’ and offering experiential mindfulness workshops that support this process. The demographic that my services attract are just like me: educated, healthy and curious beings wanting to ‘step out of the proverbial societal box,’ the one built during their formative years and into the expansiveness that growth offers and delivers.

Rather than what I do, I prefer to present who I am being: ‘A global catalyst for change’ usually starts my elevator pitch. This, having sparked genuine interest, I dare to take you on a journey – from whence I have come to where I am now.

Living, leading and loving by example, I trust that you’re able to pause long enough and let your own heart lead you.

Uncomfortably I’ve sat with it all, listened to various weigh-ins and now will attempt to make sense of where I stand with it ALL. I write from the vantage point of being someone who firmly believes in the interconnectedness of all things within and beyond my mortal self. Add to this, my obvious demographic – being a Black woman of Afro-Caribbean descent.

This said, I am aware that the feminine awakening comes in all shapes, colors and sizes. We hail from different cultures, religions, nationalities, beliefs, values and norms. As I witnessed fires blazing uncontrollably, of course I felt moved to speak. Yet there was a part of me that was terrified. For how could I speak of my gender and not of my race? These are not two mutually exclusive entities.

Increasingly, it seems that #livingwhileblack is a dangerous thing – even within the confines of your own home. I make reference to the young Caribbean man who was gunned down by a white female cop who mistook his apartment for hers. A weak attempt to mar his character made reference to the fact that he allegedly had marijuana in his house. This is at the same time that certain US states are reaping mega greenbacks from this sacred green herb – for medicinal purposes.

I was further gob-smacked as I watched throngs of people pour out behind Tiger Woods last week as he walked the green proud, having re-gained his PGA Title in this prestigious golf tournament. As I said to one friend, ‘I beamed with pride as I saw his confident stride, my body covered in goose pimples. And I don’t even like golf!’ For a man who many of us may recall in that degrading mug shot of him in a red shirt when he was caught supposedly DWI, his comeback is joy to see.

So getting back to the convoluted matter at hand, why was I afraid? As I said to one fellow yoga teacher, ‘I fear that the minute I introduce race into the mix that I will be accused of playing the race card.’ In my daily vocation as a yoga teacher, transformation coach and an influencer of sorts, I am blessed to meet women from ALL sorts of life – ranging from late teens to early sixties. Each one has a unique story to share vis-à-vis what does it mean to be a woman in this time.

In the book entitled Jailbreaking the Goddess by Lasara Firefox Allen, she posits:

‘If you identify as a woman, what is it about yourself that informs you that you are a woman? What identifies other people as women to you?’

These are important questions.

I see where my definition of being a woman is born out of my Christian-Colonial upbringing, my education, my government and my life experience. All of these are deeply entrenched within a [white] male construct.

So here I am in the twenty-first century struggling to de-construct all of this. The constant use of words such as feminine, female, empowerment, goddess, priestess, empress and the like are tossed around like confetti in conversations, assuming that we have a common inner-standing of their respective meanings.

When I reflect upon the trials faced and overcome by my matrilineal heritage, women like Anne Frank, Rosa Parks and an endless list of others, I am humbled by the extent to which they suffered so that I can now ‘enjoy’ the use of aforementioned terms. It seems like daily we’re hearing horror stories of women who have been traumatized which results in a re-traumatization of millions of women who have suffered silently for ions of time.

I was struck by the recent use of the term ‘angry white male,’ and tried to juxtapose it against a label that I’ve had affixed to me by friends, family and strangers alike – ‘angry black female.’ I believe there is a general consensus that there is a clear distinction in this primal emotion when it diverges along the lines of both race and gender.

Though we mightn’t consciously think of ourselves as such, the world as we see and experience it is a direct reflection of who we are – individually and collectively – imperfections and all. As these various boils continue to ripen, burst and ooze their puss upon humanity, know that they have been growing for quite some time. We – the human collective – are being pushed, prodded, poked and provoked to act. Instead, we react.

How can we possibly hear ourselves and each other when we’re all screaming at once?

Having spent more than half my life on this planet working in the field of diplomacy there is at least one thing I’ve learned: pay close attention to what’s NOT being said. Is the elephant even pink?

So after days of feeling like a ‘bounce-about,’ this latest social media campaign prompted me to attempt to gather my thoughts. Black Friday, Black Tuesday, blackmail and now Blackout.

I choose not to be blacked out – be it by alcohol or anything else for that matter. As an overweight, Black child from a ‘broken’ home, I have deeply and lovingly invested my life in not making myself invisible to anyone, not least of all my Self.

We [women] already know that we hold up half the sky. We already know that the future is female. We already know that the preservation of humanity itself lives in our hearts, our hands and our wombs.

NOW, can we pause long enough to listen to each other – from a place of deep respect and unconditional love?

Image by: Kevin A. Williams, aka WAK

Total cost, including lunch and one individual healing treatment session USD 895.00.  Pay in full before 15 May and receive a 10% discount. E-mail: info@universalempress.com and register TODAY!

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• Join me for this weeklong immersion that combines yoga with deep inquiry through writing, discussion and reflections, re-connecting you to your life purpose.
• Who Am I? Who I am is the sum total of my experiences. Herein lies your dharma. In Search of Meaning is a weeklong immersion that through the gifts of yoga, invites you to re-discover who you already are.
• Your life purpose is etched in your DNA, before you’re even born. In Search of Meaning invites you to re-connect to your dharma.
• Sometimes the events in life that seem catastrophic are in fact re-routing opportunities to return you to your Divine Path. In Search of Meaning will reveal this to you, and encourage you to celebrate ALL of you.
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Consciousness Rising: Know Thyself

Being balanced, grounded and centered within one’s purpose. The journey through this groundation workshop begins slowly with a supportive and grounding practice. Next, we rise into writing, breath, joy and release. Then we soften into sharing, cultivating courage and setting intention. Drums, movement and writing are integrated throughout the experience. This workshop is led in collaboration with Prana Flow certified yoga instructor, Sienna Creasy on 2 – 7 of July 2017 at Kripalu Yoga Center, MA and on 15 -20 of October 2017 at Esalen Institute, Big Sur, CA
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Thirteen years ago, burnout brought me to the mat.  

I had no idea then the immense impact that yoga would have upon my life – to the extent that I left my high profile, high intensity job of being an international peacekeeper traveling to dodgy locations – to becoming a yoga teacher.  

Many of us reading this article are likely already engaged in a regular practice of yoga.  And chances are that it was some calamity – mental, physical, emotional, or otherwise – that initially brought you to the mat. Or perhaps it was mere curiosity.  Whichever way, here we are NOW!

Since my commitment to share the invaluable gifts that yoga has bestowed upon me with others, my teaching has taken me from at-risk communities into orphanages and prisons, from spectacular international yoga festivals to the living rooms of the affluent.  

Earlier on in my yoga instruction career, there were days when in addition to at least one studio class daily, I was teaching up to five private clients.

As fellow teachers will appreciate and agree, by the time we come to stand before our students inviting them to bring their toes and heels together, inhale, exhale and soften their shoulders, we’ve already put in several hours worth of prep time.

For me, the actual instruction is the ‘simplest’ part.  I hasten to add that in this context simple is not synonymous with easy.  It takes courage, faith, determination and above all else love to show up, be present and hold space for up to 90 minutes; irrespective of whether you’re teaching to one person or 1000 persons.  

More than just being a ‘job,’ I regard teaching yoga as an immense blessing and a deep privilege.  And as such, it requires large doses of accountability and responsibility.  

The science of yoga extends way beyond the limits of physical exercise.  

For the student choosing to enter a yoga studio and step upon a mat, this  carries an impressionable amount of vulnerability. One never knows how this may reveal itself.  Subsequently, teachers must exude discernment, humility, intuition, and wisdom and above all else, love.  

In the United States where a yoga studio can be found on virtually every street corner in major cities as well as a smorgasbord of on-line classes, like it or not, the business of yoga is fiercely competitive.  While our egos may object to this, the harsh reality is that as yoga instructors and teachers, we’re highly dispensable.

One of the other things I’ve noticed over the past few years of being a full-time yoga teacher is that when you’re passion is also your livelihood, like an Energizer Bunny, we just keep on keepin’ on.

As messengers of yoga, guess what?  We too experience burnout! A loose definition describes it as: [a] physical or mental collapse caused by overwork or stress.

Because the offering of yoga demands that we tap into every facet of our being, we need to be especially mindful that we are taking exceptional care of our mind, body and spirit.  In other words, we need to practice what we teach.

Given the nature of our business; i.e., self-awareness and self-regulation, we can be confident that we already equipped to prevent our burnout.    

Here are a few gems from my self-care toolkit:

1. Time management:  especially important if your teachings take you across town, across the country or traipsing the planet.  Schedule in decompression time between major gigs to the extent that you can.  This will give your body and soul the necessary time it needs to re-charge.
2. If traveling by air, make yourself as comfortable as you possibly can.  Drink copious quantities of water and travel with some of your favorite healthy snacks and essential oils.  Amp up your vitamin intake; Bs, C and zinc in particular.
3. Rest, lots of it.  If time differences throw off your biorhythms, try yoga nidra.  It works!
4. Stay committed to your own practice.  Carve out your ‘hour of power;’ at least 60 minutes where preferably in solitude, you get to delve into any aspect of your practice that calls to you.
5. Make bodywork treatments a regular part of your maintenance; a massage, reiki, facials, steam baths, saunas, whatever helps you to unwind.
6. Spend quality time with those who are important in your life – your partner, family, friends, pets, etc. And NON-yoga friends – they’ll stop you from taking your yogic self too damn seriously!
7. Laugh out loud – A LOT!

And so it is.

http://www.cnnindonesia.com/gaya-hidup/20170326171336-277-202828/mengenal-4-senam-yoga-baru-dengan-iringan-musik-aneka-genre/

“Practicing yoga is synonymous with tranquility because it is associated with elements of meditation in yoga. However, now experience a new style yoga instructor through referrals from different countries outside states creator of yoga.

Music becomes a companion motion exercises and yoga meditation. Yoga with this musical accompaniment can be tested during the Bali Spirit Festival 2017. Beginning of yoga with mild to rock music accompaniment.”

–Jakarta , CNN Indonesia-