Being Real

Are you Real in your relationships?

We could take that question a lot of different directions, and we're meant to. It's one of those queries that we can ask every once and a while, and the answer will be always shift. On our yoga mats, what's the immediate relationship there? Yep, with ourselves. It does not matter how many other people are in the room, the moment we roll out our mats and step onto them, the moment we start listening for our breath, it's about our bodies and our breath, baby. We are Living, and whether it's “good,” “bad,” pretty, or ugly, this is the real thing. Some poses feel great, some poses we want to run away from the moment we hear the cue, and that's just a symbol for our daily life. Being Real isn't about being an optimist or a pessimist.

This is about making space for all of what we experience, and celebrating how beautiful it is.

If we don't cut our own bullshit and be honest with ourselves, what will our other relationships look like?

Now I am not advocating that we all go around being unnecessary drama llamas (people who throw their drama on others in the way a llama randomly spits). That's part of being Real, too. Maybe we need to look at not what our actions or reactions are, but where they come from, what they're fueled by. If you come out of a pose in a yoga class, are you taking care of yourself, or stopping just before the breakthrough? In my relationships, in my yoga practice, in my daily life, I've used my own drama to hide behind the truth: I. Am. Terrified.

And that's okay.

Because we all are. Are you new to your yoga practice? Are you new to your life practice? You know what I'm talking about. You are exactly where you need to be.

When you talk to yourself (we all do it), your family, your friends, strangers, are you speaking from the heart? Are you aware of your boundaries (some things don't need to be shared with everyone), and can you respect the boundaries of others? This is a practice in mindfulness and vulnerability, and we're not gonna get it perfect every time. But I know deep in my gut that my most profound moments of connection are when I foster the relationships in my life that feed my soul. What feeds my soul? The reassurance that I do not have to ignore or cover up who I am, what I feel, and what I have to offer to this world.

This video is a part of a creative project started by a man known as Ze Frank. He asked the people who watch his videos to record themselves singing a song about themselves. They weren't worried about melody, rhyming, they were just making it up as they went. The more we bare our soul, the more we find our joys and struggles aren't so different from everyone else's. You are not alone. 

Love,

Tasia

what is your Path?

So, here's the deal. We can talk about chanting, meditating, life changing workshops, creating space, setting intentions, and doing the “work” until our heads feel as fluffy and enlightened as a bunny rabbit floating in a cloud. Not only is the image fantastically adorable, but hey, we might actually be doing some of that stuff, too. We make the time to show up on our yoga mats, commit to ourselves and our practice. We experience breakthroughs, breakdowns, we have revelations, and we feel better after we practice, meditate, and eat mindfully. It's the real deal.

But there is a question that keeps nagging at the back of my mind: are you, am I identifying with the image of our path, or with the actual experience of walking it?

I have trouble relating with the idea of being on the “yogic path.” Or really, “any-adjective-I-can-think-of” path. For some people, it works great, and that's awesome. Others? Maybe it makes you want to run for the hills. For me, the inner rebel wants to kick and scream at the thought of labeling or putting a tag on the brand of “life” I live. As soon as I hear “____” path, “____” philosophy, mentally I hold up my hands and say, “Hey, that's great for you, but it ain't me.”

But do we sometimes allow the language to prevent us from hearing the underlying message and intent?

What are we striving for when we decide to show up on our mats? We made a choice. We're walking the path. But whose path is it?

On either side of the coin, we can attach too much power to names and images and forget that regardless of what we identify with or don't identify with, this is real life. Whether we're running towards a particular life style and embracing it wholeheartedly or running away and keeping it at arms length, we can still miss out. At the end of the day this life isn't a matter of which path you choose; it's a matter of remembering that it's a miracle this is your life at all. That is sacred ground beneath you. Whatever names you choose, whatever images you seek to identify with, do you remember what the earth feels like underneath your toes and what the sun feels like on your face?

Our paths will inevitably always be longer and bigger than we expect them to be; do you try to diminish it so it fits, or doesn't fit a certain package?

There is no excuse

Do you make the time to be with yourself?

As you are. As your reality is. No pretense, no stories, no excuses. You don’t need an excuse. Remember? You don’t need an excuse for yourself. There’s a faint echo reminding us there is no need for apologies or explanations to make it right. If we’re still making excuses, we’re still avoiding the chance to meet ourselves again for the first time.

A few years ago, my friend and I started an affectionate little tradition. Whenever one of us would say “Excuse me,” the other would say teasingly and lovingly, “There’s no excuse for you.” It’s true, there isn’t. Why does there have to be one, anyway?

Perhaps you can relate to this: I repeatedly make excuses for how I feel, what I do and what I don’t do. What am I really saying? Two things: I don’t have a right to feel, and in some cases, I don’t WANT to feel or be associated with my actions because I would surely be struck by lightning if I let go.

If you’re feeling silly, can you be so without apologizing? If you’re angry, can you dwell in it and give yourself time to process? If you are joyful, can you express it unhindered? If you are grieving, can you explore the ache in your heart, trusting that you will not be consumed by it?

I leave you with a journal entry I scrawled out recently. Just remember: there is no excuse for you, my love. You never needed one.

Love,

Tasia

My breath and the ache in my chest weigh me into the café booth—woven teal against my back and soft blackened brown under my thighs. Morning sunlight brushes the right side of my head, warming my scalp and the tip of my ear.

I realize this is the first moment in weeks—maybe months—where I have taken the opportunity to sit with myself, feeling free in my own time. It’s that independence not driven by: “I can do it on my own” but rather: “I need to remember and get to know myself on my own terms.”

I imagine I’m sitting across from myself, sharing breakfast, and when I look myself in the eyes I feel the lump build in my throat. I would burst into tears and choke out a humble “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry I haven’t been very attentive towards you.

My breakfast arrives: an elaborate vegetable omelet with a side of potatoes dusted with herbs, and a golden brown biscuit. All completed by fresh squeezed orange juice. The potatoes taste like camping: warm, fragrant and woody. The orange juice is like a crisp fall day, served in the perfect little serving size; just enough to send that shiver down my spine, awakening my nervous system as tart citrus drips across my tongue.

The stress of the last week has finally begun to melt from my shoulder blades and the pit in my stomach, though enough remains to remind me of the work and intention still ahead. The decisions. And the discomfort—good lord, what have I signed up for? Freedom, I guess. Nourishment, even when it comes with a harsh side of bitter teas and spices. I am still angry; I feel that dull twist and pull in my stomach, the black square weight nestled on my chest. I’m not yet able to fully enjoy this new chapter while exhaustion still pulls at my shoulders and fingers.

But it is a moment like this one that reminds me to dwell in my reality as I currently stand in it. The fact that it is my reality at all is Grace in and of itself. “I know that I am like the rain; there but for the grace of you go I.”

That Ellusive "Ideal"

There is no ideal.

The issue of identity and body image has always fascinated me, partly because of my journey with food and weight, but it is also something I studied in college while taking gender studies classes. If there is one thing that experience taught me, it’s that there is no “target weight” when it comes to Body. I don’t mean literal weight.

I mean expression: expression that bursts forth because of what is inside. Our physical body is a direct translation of what’s going on inside of us, and whether or not we are feeding the soul with what it needs: freedom.

While it is one thing to read long, dry, philosophical theories about the nature of self, it is quite another to live it. To see it. To meet it.

I feel like our culture has overdosed on advice for finding the perfect body, and even yoga can fall to this trap. Sure, there’s that “healthy” ideal that we all strive for, the certain weight range that’s healthy for our height, the BMI scale, but I know at least for me, that can be a mask to hide the truth: we are obsessed with controlling our body and controlling our emotions.

Does that sound healthy to you?

I recently heard someone talk about how she put up pictures of certain Victoria Secret models as inspiration for how she wanted her body to look and be toned. Now, inspiration is great. Inspiration can be life changing; if we are not inspired, there is no creative spark to drive us. But I thought about this. In the past I’ve done similar things, even pulled up pictures of myself from a couple years ago. Here are the thoughts that run through my head, “Look where I used to be. Look where she is.”

It’s not where I am now. I could be, but I’m not.

Shame on me.

Inspiration is great because it gives us a glimpse of the mystery of what is Possible. But what are we aspiring to be if our only source of reference is either in the long distant past, or someone else’s story/body? No matter how hard I try, while there may be many similarities, my body will never be your body. And if I do try to make it so, what am I sacrificing in the process?

I’m sacrificing my relationship with myself as it is now. As it needs to be. I’m no longer interested in what my body needs or wants, whatever I put it through is just a means to an end. I am drawing arrow after arrow, trying to get the perfect bullseye. In the end, it doesn’t matter if I train, if my form is “good,” or “bad,” the time I spend trying to reach my goal is lost to me. And if and when I do hit the bullseye, what then? Does my life only begin when I’ve reached the perfect ideal?

What if, instead of the comparison, we focused each moment on what we need? What does the body crave, what does the soul crave? What nourishes us? If we sacrifice nourishment, in any of its forms (not just food; pleasure, laughter, pain, healing), how will we be “healthy?”

Part of this means slowing down. If we push, push, push, we are still on auto-pilot. Each moment we ignore what we feel, we are disconnected. There is no ideal. There is only what the soul craves, and whether or not we choose to answer the call, without shame and without guilt.

What is the "ideal" you've been chasing? 

Remembering the way Home

Despite my impatience, I do see that it is sometimes necessary to repeat the same actions and lessons until we realize we no longer find pleasure or enjoyment in them. Suffering may be optional, but it sure is a good teacher, and a necessary one depending on our choices. We know this. Your story fills its own pages, but mine is filled with food and eating “disorders.” But even binging on sugar, fat, and salt loses its taste; especially when I recall the flavor of a fresh summer peach bursting open in my mouth and down my chin as tart and sweet blend on my tongue, making the muscle curl in on itself.

I have a question.

What do you want?

Sometimes we will talk or hear about the difference of want and need, letting go of desire, etc, etc, etc.

Let me be candid: I think that's a big load of bull crap, and I'll tell you why.

I'm slowly starting to realize that my Growth, my path, is in part a journey towards understanding the difference between need, desire/want, and compulsion. Compulsion is the war we fight when we are afraid to claim what we need and have forgotten what we want. Compulsion, craving, insanity, whatever. Indulgence does not equal enjoyment. We know the difference, our bodies know the difference. One leaves you empty, the other leaves you filled to the brim. Filling up a car with air instead of fuel. Here's a (not so) secret: Happiness is the best damn fuel you will ever find (and the cheapest), so long as we remember where to look for it.

My story is a saga of trying to figure out what I want (where are we looking?), and feeding (literally) the compulsion to fix something that ain't broke.

As I sat meditating this evening, I asked my guru, my spirit guide, to sit with me. Usually she comes to me in the form of a beautiful crone, wise eyes, hands a pattern of softness and calluses, cloaked in a woven blanket. But this time she took a different shape, an image that I only recently have begun to get back in touch with: my inner Arist, One Who Creates:

I hold the hands of my Artist self as I sit and breathe, picturing her long, dark brown hair framing a pale white complexion and soft eyes and lips. She smiles and reminds me to Come Back. I realize, as part of my journey, I have forgotten my way home. Her phrase does not refer to coming back to the breath or the moment; her call is to come back to the beginning. Retracing my steps and trail of bread crumbs until I find myself, kneeling at her doorstep, cold and shivering. I have found home, my big bang, my moment of conception that spurred forth infinite color and light, just as the Artist (I am You) presses a brush, thick with paint, upon a surface and gently pulls down, smearing Matter onto Space and Time.

When we allow them the space and the time, Need and Desire begin to mix together like Yellow and Blue, forming a rich Green. What the body needs and what the heart desires are not so different, and if, through grace and openness, I listen, I will find my way Home.  

Always know that if you feel the Desire to share after reading my monthly posts, I encourage you to do so, even anonymously. What resonates, what doesn't resonate, what is stirred up inside you?

Much love,

Tasia

Transcending Shame, Embracing Love

I have been teaching for a little over seven months now. The most incredible thing about this, besides how fast time has passed, is how teaching continues to be a humbling daily devotional practice and a mirror for journey I walk outside the studio room. Being a teacher, in any sense of the word, means first and foremost that you never stop being a student, and I've found that my lessons come from everywhere. Some days are harder than others; those days usually become the most beautiful. That's why I truly value my moments of doubt, because the days where all I can do is pray are the days that profound transformation can happen and divine love can come in.

Some things that have come up a lot of me lately are shame and fear. This journey is not all sunshine and rainbows; I discover thick layers of darkness, too. My lesson has been to explore that with love and curiosity, and begin to understand where those feelings come from. It's only through understanding and SEEING that I can pull back another layer. Literally transcending shame, and embracing love. While I'm not necessarily being specific I know and I trust that you know what I'm talking about when I talk about shame. It can be anything. It can be something we’ve said, something we’ve done (or not done). It can be your body; are you comfortable in your skin? It is something that is very present in our lives, in our relationships, maybe even our relationship with the universe/nature/Spirit/God/whatever sense of Bigness or Moreness you grapple with.

There's a saying that goes: Shame stops being shame when it is no longer a secret. Maybe it's a secret we keep from ourselves. Maybe it's a skeleton in that closet that we're afraid to look at. So the invitation, not the requirement, but the invitation, is to greet the shame, understand where it comes from, and maybe, just maybe, begin to let it go.

I am going to go out on a limb here (and you are welcome to walk out with me or not): we are holy Beings. So here’s my question: if you truly, 100% believed that every single day, how would you live your life? What relationships would you foster, which would you let go of? What job would you seek? What daily habits would you set into place to care for the soul's vessel, the body, your mind, and your heart?

I know my day-to-day life would look very different if I truly believed and trusted this. How we treat ourselves is just as important as how we treat others. If we neglect to meet our needs, we betray ourselves; and we betray ourselves on a daily basis. That's it. We've harmed a human Being; it's just the human being we looking at in the mirror.

I say this not as a judgment, not as the pointing finger that says “shame on you!” because where would that leave us? We haven't gone anywhere. If we continue to feel afraid and ashamed of looking in the mirror to see our brokenness, we delay healing. We delay forgiveness. I cannot find forgiveness for my self-betrayal from you; and truly, we cannot find it anywhere we look. We will not find it with our family. We will not find it in our partners—pieces of it, surely, because that is a part of the healing process, but not all of it. Not that total release, that freedom.

Why is it so hard to find forgiveness? Maybe we don't believe we deserve it; part of me must not believe, because I have not forgiven myself. What happens when we forgive? We let go of the past. We may remember it, we may honor it, but we've moved on. It is no longer a part of us in this moment. We have replaced it with something new.

So why? I really want it for you, I believe you deserve it, I believe you deserve freedom and love. I believe that the best way for you to serve this world is to be creative, vibrant, and unashamedly beautiful. Where is that desire for myself? Why is it so hard to find?

There is nothing TO find. We cannot find what we already have. The issue is not that we have betrayed Anyone or Anything, but that we believe we have. We believe wholeheartedly in our brokenness. We believe in our shame, in our guilt, we believe in being small. Why do we believe this?

Well, it could be a lot of things, and only you can begin to unveil it for yourself. One possibility is this: we inherit a lot of stuff from our family and most of it is not material.

Recently I realized my pattern of avoiding anger was not something unique to me and my life. My fear of conflict and seeing it through with love was a family pattern. I saw it in my generation, my parents' generation, my grandparents' generation. So here is a marvelous opportunity! I can choose to continue the family path; that is certainly an option. Or, I can choose to transcend it. I can choose not to claim it as my own. When I feel anger, I can state what's on my heart without shame or fear of rejection, set my boundaries, and do this all with love.

Sometimes we inherit a sense of brokenness, of shame for who we are, from our family. It may not be conscious, it may not be intentional, but we are born into this huge mansion full of stuff, thoughts, feelings, assumptions that are not ours. But again, this is not a blame game. Blame does nothing but displace shame; it’s like taking the stuff from that mansion and having a garage sale to pass off the stuff we chose to own onto someone else. Can we choose another route: this brokenness stops with me.

This has been my daily prayer lately, and I share it with you to allow you take in what you resonates with you and leave behind what doesn’t:

“I see the face of brokenness that I have lived with for many years. I see that face around my mother's eyes, around my grandfather's crooked smile. I create a life from grace and love. I do not seek forgiveness, because I am forgiveness. I do not seek love, because I am love. I choose to release the shamed heart, freeing both it and myself. I am a child of Love, created from pure intention. In my essence I am whole, because if I break I do not break apart, but I break open. May this be my legacy.”

Looking in the Mirror

I'm willing to bet we all deal with family drama on a regular basis. If “Family” had a middle name, I think “Conflict” might be it. That's just the nature of any relationship, whether it be with ourselves, with our partners, or with family. Tension tugs, it's just what it does.

My family, at least a section of it, has a history, a karma, of walking on eggshells around each other. The funny thing is, we are a group of very strong-willed, passionate, intense individuals, but once together, the number of bit tongues and closed lips is astonishing.

This isn't to say that we have to be intentionally hurtful. But I believe that speaking from the heart sometimes creates discomfort for others, and that is not our burden(karma) to bear. May we be aware and take responsibility for our actions, but not take responsibility for another's REaction. While we impress upon each other like a dance of give and take, there is very little we can ever truly control.

Here is what has been on my heart: How do we respond when we feel trodden on?

That feeling is very real, and can be very powerful and lasting if allowed to linger. Victimhood, shame, guilt, unsafe, trapped, violated. Yes, violated.

Violation occurs when we let it occur, and let's be honest, it occurs sometimes. Is it your fault? No. What responsibility can you take from the rubble to better understand yourself, and ah! Better understand the other person? The Other. Also known as, the Mirror to your own Heart.

We can think of it like magnets. What happens when the same polar end of two magnets attempt to come into contact? There are a couple choices: continue to try and mash the ends together or turn, change direction. Change your point of view. Ultimately that does not have to change any decisions you make, but the intention may start to shift from anger to compassion.

I offered myself a piece of advice after my first heartbreak years ago that has served me well: if something creates a strong reaction in you, give it 24 hours. Time and time again, the anger fades from my soul, and leaves a beautiful product: clarity. Anger is a lightening strike. Sudden, vivid, untamed, and it leaves an imprint: something is not right. Whether that suffering is caused by the situation, or the perspective is something only by the individual can answer.

After the reaction, what is your response? This question is one to ask at any moment, when alone, or with family, or with friends. Whether we inflict harsh judgment on ourselves, or on others, it still tears a hole in the fabric of a Human Being. Can we be both firm and loving?

Yes.

As kids we fought and argued, and as adults we are as different as they come, but with memories like these, and love like this, we are mirrors for each other of the most beautiful kind.