Thursday, March 14, 2019

DILL CHICKEN SALAD with celery, apples, and sunflower seeds

Spring is in the air. And the ground. The snow is melting, the sun is shining, and thunderstorms grace the skies. It's a glorious time - my favorite in fact. Lately I've been craving chicken salad. Light yet substantial. Versatile and at the ready for park time, bike rides, and all the outdoor fun that comes with this season. Enjoy!


1 - 1.25 lbs chicken breast (I love Creswick Farms chicken), cut into large chunks or strips (2 15-oz cans of garbanzo beans to make vegan)
2 tablespoons of ghee or butter (avocado or algae oil for vegan)
sea salt and freshly ground pepper

1 cup celery, chopped into small chunks
2 small or 1 large sweet apple, chopped into small chunks
1/2 heaping cup of raw sunflower seeds
1 tablespoon of dried dill or 1/4 cup fresh dill leaves
1/2 cup vegenaise or mayonaise (I love Soy-Free Vegenaise or Chose Foods Avocado Oil Mayo)
Freshly ground pepper, to taste

In a large cast iron or stainless steel skillet, melt ghee or butter (or oil). Gently spread chicken (or garbanzo beans) out in pan and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cook over medium heat for about 5 - 7 minutes. If using garbanzo beans in lieu of chicken, shake the pan over the burner from time to time to stir. When the pan side of the chicken begins to brown, flip and cook another 5-7 minutes until browned. Cut into a slice of chicken to make sure it is cooked all the way through. Turn off heat and let cool for 10 minutes.

While chicken cools, combine celery, apples, sunflower seeds, pepper, and dill in a large glass or stainless steel bowl. Mix well.

Chop the chicken into really small pieces (lightly crush garbanzo beans if using). Add the chicken and vegenaise/mayo and stir until all of the mixture is coated evenly. Serve immediately or store in refrigerator for up to a week.

Tuesday, December 18, 2018


At nearly every retreat I lead and meditation class I teach someone(s) will ask me "How do I meditate?" or comment that "meditation is really hard" and, you know, "just not working" for them.

"I tried it this one time...." they continue, "and my mind just wouldn't that normal?....maybe it's not for me....I'd like to try but I don't know there an easy way?....what's your trick?...."

Sound familiar?

I've been there. Trust me. I'm there a good chunk of the time still.

I've begged my teachers for the formula. For the answer. For something! I was convinced they knew the secret that would take meditation from rip my hair out to, well, effortless. Let me rephrase. In asking for the easy way out I was asking them to help me hop, skip, jump over the rock-bottom work of meditation and deliver me queen-like in a struggle-proof carriage directly into the hands of enlightenment.

Essentially I was told dream on. And knock it off.

They wisely told me and remind me still - quoting from the Bhagavad Gita - that I am what I seek. Or Tvam Tat Asi - "Thou That Art".

It's taken me years, a lot of frustration, and what feels like many, many, many failed attempts to experience the wisdom in this statement. I am what I seek. I am what I seek. I am what I seek. And here's where I pause. Sorry. You have to do the work and sit with this one. Obligatory "leave you hangin" here as sometimes words simply fall short. Consider this incentive.

My oh-so-wise teachers also shared, with I swear a twinkle of mischievous enjoyment in their eyes, that it's all - the entire experience - meditation. And when they said all, they meant all. The batshit crazy voices blasting themselves into the walls of my mind. The mysterious pains that I never feel elsewhere but somehow become life and death on my cushion. The fact that my left foot passes out and then hammers itself with needles in its listless stupor when I shift position. The dreaded "who cares? does this matter? what am I doing? this is crap." that plays on repeat in the least opportune moments. The sliding from bed to floor, mala in hand, wondering what makes this more important than sleep. The falling asleep, hereto with mala in hand and the best of intentions of course. I've had every known disease and a few I discovered. I've come up with solutions to every world problem, with humility of course. I've committed numerous crimes, climbed many mountains, fixed my kids and husband and everyone else I know, and single-handedly secured world peace. All this without leaving my seat. All while the players of my mind charade - critic, scientist, creative, dreamer, victim, parent, teacher, good girl, bad girl, shamed girl, acclaimed girl, hurt girl, strong girl, little girl, grown girl - consistently show up uninvited and demand immediate attention.  Apparently they're all welcome. All of this really. All teachers. All part of the gig.

That being said, I'm only coming around to such wisdom because I stuck, and am sticking, with it - meditation that is. It takes sitting nearly every day. Every. Single. Day. Turns out there's a massive amount of trust and faith involved, a fair share of doubt (you know, just to keep it interesting), and absolutely no shortcut. None. Nada. Zilch. I've looked.

So here's the truth with no artificial sweetness: Meditation can be hard (really, really hard), especially at first. In fact, I'm more and more convinced difficulty has been hardwired in. You can thank the cosmic jokester(s?) for said insanity and (sense my grudging hesitation) - brilliance.

This brilliance in a nutshell? The challenge makes us want it.

What "it" is may be ambiguous for a long, long time. But that "it" keeps us going. More or less pulls  us forward, toward, into.

It's pretty sweet (albeit sometimes in a sour sort of way).

And difficulty is what actually delivers some of the gifts meditation has to offer.

Small things like discipline, desire, surrender, compassion, grace, connection, endurance, focus, selflessness, self-reflection, and peace. 

I love the way Elizabeth Gilbert's friend Richard puts it:

"You can't get to the castle if you don't swim the moat."

Yup. It's like that.

All that to say (thanks for humoring my chatter), I've distilled the process of meditation down to this:




That's it. That's my recipe for meditative success, if there is such thing, void of goal, ending, and public affirmation.  Oh and no promise of enlightenment though I can promise your efforts will not be wasted. It's like saving a million dollars one penny at a time. They only add up.

Of course there's a bit of shameless bait and switch happening here. Said recipe sounds simple (geez there she goes with another "s" word!) but, as you can and should expect, is far more deep than a surface glance reveals. Each of the three - Stop. Sit. Stay. - have layers to be peeled (blame quantum physics). So here we go. We begin to peel.


Meditation demands the first thing we do is stop. Stop the busyness of life - the tasks, the lists, the emails, the calls, the scrolling, the liking, the chatter, the doing, the outward interacting. It may mean stopping the alarm and stopping the sleep. We have to drop it all. It's in this moment that we make the choice: stop so we can sit or...not. To stop means turning things off, shutting things down, closing conversations and doors and saying no so we can say yes to this one thing. In the stop lies the gate. This is where we choose to enter through the smallest of doors into the secret garden of soul. For some it's the most difficult step. For some it may never happen. The pull of life is so strong. But for others who choose to enter through the stop, this - this - is where it all begins.


There's no trick here. I mean what I say - sit down. Sit on a chair, a cushion, a blanket, a ledge. Sit on the grass, the sand, a bench, or the floor. Sit in a closet, a class, or a park. Sit. Sit. Sit. Make yourself as comfortable as possible (no sense in fighting what can be adjusted) and then sit. Some may find it easier to come with a plan. Maybe a specific mantra or pranayama (breath) practice. Maybe it's a visualization or guided meditation. This can be really helpful at first as mental activity may be stuck in hyper mode for awhile. Essentially, dog meet bone. Give your mind something to play with. Then ask it to sit.

PS - You may find it helpful to set a timer. Olympians rarely wake up at the Olympics. Meditation is similar. Start small. Like a minute (you laugh now...). Build each day. I find it more helpful to build on my (perceived) success rather than resent my (perceived) failure. Set a timer then forget about time. Be in it for as long as you're in it.

Which leads me to...


Through it all - the discomfort, restlessness, loss of desire, immediacy of thoughts and feelings, tiredness, schedule change, anxiety, fear, lack of "progress", frustration - through it all, stay. Stay in your stopping and your sitting. Stay with your practice. Stay in it. Listen. Feel. Soften. Look in. Bring your mind back time and time again to the point of your focus (or the emptiness if that's what you're doing) and stay. Sense the millions of other people who are meditating around the world and stay. Sense those you love fiercely and stay. Sense the wiser you pulling you forward and stay. Sense the tradition, the teachers, the purpose, the depth and stay. Let the difficulty roll through you and over you and stay. Let the practice be whatever it is, whatever comes up, whatever does or doesn't happen and stay. Stay for you. Stay for us. Stay for the world. Stay because your practice does make a difference. I've come to believe that faith is the combination of discipline, resolve, and hope. Meditation takes tremendous faith. When you doubt, stay with it. When you believe, stay with it. When you don't care, stay with it. When you're bursting with love and connection, stay with it. When you're empty, stay. When you're full, stay. When you're the fullest kind of empty, stay. Stay with it and without fail it will stay with you.

So here it is my friends. My not-so-simple simplified recipe for meditation. Know that I cheer you on, I'm here if you have questions, and I have the deepest gratitude for the beautiful force you bring to the world through your meditation.

To the light within.


End Note: As always, please do not consider this a one-size-fits-all prescription. Each of us are different and
carry a variety of experiences within us. Some of those may be traumatic and painful. If this is you,
I urge you to talk with a qualified professional as you begin your meditation rhythm. This is especially
necessary if you find meditation draws forth experiences that create excessive fear, stress, and anxiety.
You’re not “doing it wrong.” Ask for help. Seek what you need so you find what you search for.

Wednesday, August 1, 2018


Today I went to the Farmer’s Market. My favorite place really. Well, tied with the beach. Lately I’ve been walking the path that leads through the stands with a deepened sense of gratitude. The result (or gift mostly) of traversing the path of hard-knocks I’m only recently emerging from.

Let me explain.

After my first baby was born I acted out what I’d been meticulously planning for months. Pregnancy
makes you crazy. To my point, I canned a books worth of food (seduced by calling it "small batch"),
convinced filling our pantry would offer some sort of respite or security or peace. Something.
I baked everything from scratch, grew a quarter of an acre worth of food and actively shamed
myself if anything, including my time, went wasted or failed. Like a bat out of hell, I was out to prove
that I could do it. I could give my newborn daughter the best of everything and I could make it myself
and it would be done perfectly.

It doesn’t take a trained professional to see where this was headed.

Massive burnout, complete depletion and immense disappointment. No one told me there would
always be more to do, and that more could be done better. Or maybe they did and I wasn't ready
to listen.

About that time Pinterest had come on the scene, all sequined and shiny and irresistible. Canning
was sexy (or so they said) and the Do-It-Yourself movement erupted. Instagram went crazy (and
so did we) with “Look what I made Mom!” photos. All promised a sense of satisfaction, success
and extra cash in our pockets.

And yet.

So many people I know, including myself, paid a price for “doing it ourselves”. We lost money
(because let’s be serious, none of us made it like the picture the first go-round), time (10 minutes
my ass), health, sanity, and picked up a good dose of self-loathing in the process.

It leaves me wondering if the Do-It-Yourself movement is nothing more than pendulum backlash
against the machine of pre-packaged junk and big business nonsense. We’re tired of being duped
by superficial marketing and know we could do it better than that. It was for me. I stuck it to the man
alright. And put myself right in the docs office trying to undo my defensive mess.

But back to the market.

Today as I handed over my $6 to Kristine at Saunders Family Bakery and placed a freshly baked
loaf of gluten-free bread in my basket my heart swelled with connection and thanks. She was quick
to share her story - that she had family and friends with allergies and she so badly wanted to offer
them a good, healthy loaf of bread safe for them to eat. How she tried countless recipes to get it just
right, for them and for us. Geoff at Sacred Springs excitedly told me that they have a new location
opening as he filled up my howlette with chamomile kombucha. John at Bodhi Tree Juice Co.
mentioned they are looking for a storefront in Holland, recognizing we need them and their products
so badly here. I wholeheartedly agreed! As I picked up tomatoes and cucumbers from
Groundswell Farm and berries from Organic Blueberries LLC, granola from Good Life Granola,
I offered sincere and deep thanks to each vendor. They’re offering me food, sure. But what they
may not know is they’re giving me time, peace and space as well.

In making their bread and kombucha and granola and juices and veggies - doing their sacred
work in the world - they’re giving me space and freedom to do mine. To write, to teach, to practice
and study yoga, to parent. They’re allowing me the liberty of baking for fun rather than force and
spending more time cooking rather than frantically weeding.

They’re gracefully showing up in their community, in their way, so I can too.

Yoga calls this dharma. Rooting out our essence, what makes us "us", and living from there.

I find it mutually beneficial in the best possible way. Rather than stressing about paying for
something “I could just do myself” or actually trying to do it myself, I offer monetary support so
these amazing people can create and sustain a business. When we invest in our communities  -
through markets and small shops and classes - we enter into more than a simple transaction. We
reach beyond service or product and into relationship. We step towards building community and
connection. Ultimately we step towards ourselves. In supporting the work of others we may find
we support the work of own.

My dream isn’t to be a baker - but someone’s is.

My dream isn’t to be a juice bar owner - but someone’s is.

My dream isn’t to own a vegetable farm - but someone’s is.

And all these someone’s live in my community! And yours too.

Of course this isn’t license for fast food and cheap spending. Some things we really do have to do
ourselves. Like making meals, holding space around a table along with conversation, and creating
a home built on love and respect. What I’m pointing to is intention. When we dive head first into
doing-it-ourselves, what is our intention? And what might we be taking from another? It’s okay to
not do it all, all by ourselves (in fact it sounds a bit prideful really).

In fact, stepping back to take in the bigger picture may help us move from independence to

Basically into the place where we all give a damn. A place where we are seen and known and see
and know.

We get to celebrate when a business thrives and show up when others are on the verge of collapse.
We get to cheer and become ambassadors and be a part of something. We walk down the streets
or through the market and know people by name. There’s something really large in its smallness.
There greatness in its simplicity.

We move from Do-It-Yourself to Do-It-Together.

So maybe next time it comes up that you “do it yourself” consider a few things:

1. What is the True Cost (time, trials, money, driving, etc.)
2. Does this support your sacred work in the world?
3. What is your intention?
4. Is there someone in your community who is already doing this, and doing it well?

May we set down our pressures, our pride and our pushing and realize we can't gain it all by
attempting to do-it-all ourselves. Here’s to people supporting people and dreams supporting dreams.
Here's to dharma.

Peace to you, peace to our communities, peace to the world.

Monday, May 7, 2018

TANGY NO-LEMON BERRY-ADE with goji berries, blueberries, and apple cider vinegar

I'm nuts about spring. I get straight up kooky-dooks for warm weather still tinged with a hint of cool, early morning light, asparagus and spring greens, and sun. Oh how glorious the sun.

That being said, spring also carries with it an absurd proliferation of pollen. Pollen turns some of us into red-nosed, bloodshot eyed, shattering sneeze wonders. Immune responders are on full alert, looking to extricate invaders using whatever means possible.

And so we adjust.

Over the years I've had to learn the art of flexibility when it comes to food. And for this girl, flexibility ain't easy. Not so much a fan of irony either but it seems that all things edible provide me a good, hard lesson in both. It's funny to me that foods are so vibrantly colored when they live in the land of grey area. There's no black and white when it comes to eating as much as certain people attempting to sell certain foods (or food plans) want desperately for you and I to believe. Life presents us with new and different and changing every day and it only makes sense that the essentials of life would tend to follow.

Which leads me to berry-ade. This spring I've taken a vested interest in reducing foods that elevate histamine levels. My tastebuds, on the other hand, have taken a desperate interest in lemon/limeade. It could be the warmer days and elevated thirst or time spent digging in dirt but there's nothing like citrus on ice to quench a thirst. If you've googled histamine no-no's you'll find citrus there. On. Every. Single. List. Trust me I looked for the loophole. There's none.

With no bone to bite onto, we get creative.

Apple cider vinegar. Raw, unfiltered, and depends on where you look. Some reporters are purists and throw ACV right in the heap with all other vinegars (although some research shows it has antihistamine properties). Others set it on a pedestal as the one outlier (quoting said research). Which tells me this is the ideal case for personal exploration and experience.

And because I was desperate and thirsty, I strapped on my explorer suit and dove right in. If you deal with spring allergies you'll have to decide for yourself whether or not to give it a go, however if you're looking to add apple cider vinegar to your diet this is a really nice way to do it. You can google the benefits. That being said, ACV isn't for everyone and is, like everything else, not the cure-all. Taste, test, be curious and try. Learn to listen to your body by engaging in the conversation and taking time to notice. There's no quick-fix or short cut when it comes to understanding what keeps you tickin'. It takes attention, practice, patience and a good helping of go-with-the-flow. Challenges come with a gift though - immense growth. Now that's something to go a little nuts over.



1/2 cup of dried goji berries soaked in hot water
1/2 cup of blueberries, fresh or frozen
4 cups of water
3 - 5 tablespoons of raw, unfiltered apple cider vinegar
1/4 - 1/3 cup of raw, unfiltered honey

Place all in high-speed blender and blend to smooth. Pour mixture through a fine mesh strainer and compost or discard the pulp. Drink at room temperature or over ice. Enjoy!

Tuesday, March 20, 2018


At the threshold of each seasonal transition my kids and I plod down to the storage room and rummage
through bins searching for a particular set of books. In June we dig for pages lined with sunshine and
beaches, in September the topics we seek are school and apples and harvest. December we hunt
snowflakes, christmas trees and colorful lights. And then comes March. March maybe holds the most
anticipation. Christmas has it’s obvious excitement but March has a charm all its own - spring. For
months we wait through ice and snow and all things winter. We enjoy the powder while longing for
green. We cuddle up by fires, warm liquid tucked between our hands and soak up the short days and
long rest. Then the month turns to three and we stretch out our limbs, open our hearts and turn to the
sun. “Awake!” our bodies cry. Take a deep breath, get outside and take in the joy that brings us
northerners to tears. And we do. When the thermometer hits fifty and the sun shines bright, we throw
open our windows, tuck our boots away and slip into our shorts as quickly as possible fueled by a
little fear that the warmth might not stay. We know better of course and yet we do it anyway. We
breathe into the spaces that have been hunched over, tight and playing defense and we exhale deeply.

And then it’s spring.

Julie Fogliano may have coined it first. Maybe not. Either way And Then It’s Spring maintains its
place at the top of the list as our favorite springtime book. It pulls at my heartstrings as it narrates
so aptly our journey through spring. The hope, the worry [Will it ever come? Will it stay?], the
preparation and finally the transformation. The more I ponder and observe the more I’m convinced
that spring is a mirror for the journey that unfolds within us. We step out in faith that something will
happen. We meditate, practice asana and pranayama, we eat well, learn and find our teachers. We
spread seeds and hope for rain. It doesn’t look promising at first, bleak even, and our path may be
filled with a mirage of change but we step anyway. We plant anyway. Fools play really. And then a
hum awakens within us. The hum feeding something but we’re not quite sure what. We trust it’s
important - a sign maybe or sweet song encouraging us to keep on. We do so with childlike glee.
Even if it snows a little, we’ve built up enough momentum to get us through. Change pulses through
our bodies and enlivens our minds. And still we wait, ears tuned and hearts ready.

This is spring. The push/pull, desperation and euphoria, beautiful anticipation of it all.

One of the things I find most helpful as the seasonal transition occurs is to stay grounded and balanced.
Spring draws dormate energy up as seeds spring to life and thrust skyward seeking the sun. Branches
transform from lifeless to budding and the wombs of creatures pulsate with expectancy. There’s a
vibrancy and beat about spring. It’s easy to lose our feet and sail to space. Couple this with a body
sloughing off hibernation and the heaviness of winter, we can quickly find ourselves congested,
anxious, on edge. So we ground, we root and then we rise.

Below you’ll find a handful of practices to incorporate this spring. Based on Ayurveda or “the science
of life”, these suggestions are built on an ancient tradition rather than the here today, gone tomorrow
health culture we currently experience. My hope is they’ll help you set roots so your growth can be
anchored, enduring and alive with pleasure.

May you stay firmly rooted as your inner child dances with excitement and radiates the promise of


Dry Brushing
Dry brushing is exactly what it sounds like. Brushing your dry body. At first glance this may fall in
the kooky category but it’s a simple practice with immediate gratification. Dry brushing helps to
slough away dead skin while stimulating circulation and lymphatic movement. This practice is best
integrated into your morning routine as it is invigorating by nature. I love dry brushing because it’s
easy to incorporate, accessible and simple to do. For more information and detailed instructions
visit Joyful Belly, My New Roots or Banyan Botanicals. Note: If you have a significant vata
imbalance this practice may not be appropriate for you at this time. Skip ahead to the oil massage and
enjoy that while working with your diet and, if possible, an Ayurvedic professional to restore harmony.

Abhyanga or Oil Massage
The word “massage” may be enough enticement to give this one a try. One of the most balancing and
grounding practices Ayurveda has to offer, self-massage with oil truly connects you with the loving,
nurturing one within. It’s benefits are many: imparts muscle tone, lubricates the joints, increases
circulation, stimulates the internal organs, assists in detoxification, calms the nerves, deepens sleep
and on and on. Sunflower oil is a fantastic choice for the spring season as it’s one of the more neutral
oils. For instructions visit The Chopra Center or Banyan Botanicals.

Traditionally known as the season of Kapha, early greens tend to be astringent for a reason. Mucus
has a way of building up over winter and spring invites a mass exodus of phlegm. If you’re no
stranger to the springtime sniffles, nettle may be a buddy to invite over to play. Nettle aids in
strengthening the nervous system, increases circulation, reduces inflammation and histamines, and
increases ojas (put very simply, the essence of assimilation). Purusha Ayurveda has a lovely overview
if you’d like to learn more. It’s worth noting that although nettle is beneficial for all three doshas, if
taken in excess an imbalance in vata may occur.

Food & Water
Spring ushers in an overwhelming urge to purge. We clean our homes, clean our cars and look to
switch up our diet. It’s tempting to hop on the pendulum and let it carry you away from the heavier
foods of winter on to singing the salad balad. The thing about transitions is that they are just that -
transitions. Moving from one extreme to other can be detrimental (think backbend to forward fold -
ouch!). I’ve found the best foods for seasonal shifts are simple, easy to digest and relatively bland.
Kichari/kitchari (traditional or soup), ghee, stewed fruit, seeds (pumpkin and sunflower), and cooked
root veggies offer balanced nutrition without creating stress for your digestive system. Specifically in
spring, the earth offers early growth like cilantro, stinging nettles, asparagus, ramps and leeks perfect
for gently clearing out stagnant mucus. When choosing food think warm, light and easy to digest, just
like the season itself.  

And then there’s water. I can’t emphasize strongly enough the importance of drinking pure water. For
a more in depth look at water check out Joyful Belly. Dr. Vasant Lad recommends Ayurvedic Gatorade
to increase the proper absorption of the water we do drink. Spring may be a nice time to add a splash
of apple or pomegranate juice to aid in the dispersal of excess mucous. I will also add that slightly
warmed water is ideal. I keep a pump thermos on the counter filled with warm water so it’s on hand
the whole day through.

Dr. Lad's Ayurvedic Gatorade
pinch of raw sugar, honey or maple syrup
pinch of salt
juice of one-half lime or seasonally appropriate juice (optional)
1 cup water
Mix the sweetener, salt and water together until well blended. Add the juice and mix again.

Bare your Feet

As soon as it’s warm enough, throw off your shoes, spread your toes, sink your heels into the earth
and walk barefoot in the grass. Listing here all the benefits may be helpful but in my experience
there’s no substitute for trying it yourself and letting your own participation speak. Walk slow, feel
fully, breathe deeply.

Peace to you, peace to all.


Thursday, November 2, 2017

HOT CHAGA with carob, cinnamon and cayenne

I get the feeling this recipe may need a little introducing.

Here's the deal. I love hot chocolate however on some days it can make me a bit jittery especially when I'm feeling overwhelmed or stressed and is no bueno as an evening drink, which is generally when I get the hankering.

As does happen most of the time, problems offer us a place to be creative and resourceful.

This is my version of evening hot chocolate. Made with carob powder [chaco look-a-like], chaga mushrooms [immune booster!], ashwagandha [relax and rest], triphala [tri-doshic powerhouse] and few other more recognizable ingredients.

What I love about this drink is it's calming quality and sink-into-a-chair-with-a-good-book-and-fire invitation.

If you're curious and want to give it a try, you can find the ingredients [local to me] at Global Infusion, your local health foods store or online through Mountain Rose Herbs.



1/4 cup roasted carob powder
1/4 cup coconut sugar
1 tablespoon + 1 teaspoon chaga mushroom powder
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ashwagandha powder
1 teaspoon triphala powder
2 large pinches of smoked [opt.] sea salt
1 pinch cayenne pepper

Place all ingredients in dry blender container, spice or coffee grinder. Blend on high until a fine powder is achieved.

Mix one tablespoon of blend per every eight ounces of boiling water or warmed milk of choice.

Top with additional cinnamon, cardamom and/or homemade marshmallows.

Monday, October 30, 2017


Image from

Last week I was shocked by a podcast. Not because of a story or anecdote or person but more because it held the answer to something I've been wrestling with for a while. I sat there stunned and then cried. I wrote and re-read and at some point just stared.

As this season's weather has haphazardly ping-ponged back and forth I've felt a similar experience happening within. Of course the climate and transition can affect us, and does, however this was a bit more than that. I felt rushed and overwhelmed, as if I was chasing something but couldn't exactly put my finger on what "it" was and had a sinking sense that I'd never actually catch it. A feeling that has plagued me a good chunk of my life. Most things had become a task to be completed, a list that didn't really end. I would get to the end of the day not really feeling like I'd finished what I had set out to do, leaving me with a sense of disappointment and regret. 

And then the podcast pummeled me. Or maybe scooped me up and rocked me. Probably both.


Ambition is every bit temptress and hero, equal parts effective and debilitating. For me, ambition had disguised itself as productive, achievement, and good. Although, I couldn't explain what "making it" looked like, I knew that if I didn't I'd be left behind. And behind was a place I didn't want to be.

It had lured me into the chase, never offering the goal. Instead of experiencing all that was promised, ambition had left me exhausted, empty and confused. I was pushing myself and I had no idea why. Why am I rushing my shower and folding the clothes so quickly? Why can't these dishes get done faster or this drive time be less? Why am I multi-tasking brushing my teeth? How can I shave a little time off here so I have more time there? Body tense, jaw locked, nerves alert - full 'bout it mode.

Last month in teacher training [500 hour!] we were asked to write our teaching mantra - the thing that keeps us coming back to our mat and back to our classes. The thing that guides us in sequencing, words and practice. I had this really nice mantra prepared. Something about challenging and nourishing and growth. All true but not quite the core of why I teach.

After a guided meditation our instructor asked us to write down our mantra and what came up for me was both unexpected and, to be honest, a bit of a let down.

The root of why I teach isn't because I want to offer something great to the world. It isn't because I have this grandiose plan or insight and want to share it. It isn't even because I want to be successful.


I teach because I love yoga.

That's it.

I teach because I feel alive and whole on my mat. Because I can't think of anything else I would rather put my life towards.

I was so blinded by ambition, I couldn't even see the depth of beauty in this.

It took me a lot of writing and sifting to realize that ambition got scared. Ambition was let down that deep inside, where I'm striped of all the layers I've put on, something was preserved. A truth that remains untainted and pure. The knowledge that there's no greater gift we can offer the world than ourselves fully alive and whole, loving what we do. 

And so, more often than I care to count in one day, I remind myself that ambition isn't in charge anymore. That it's okay to have goals and dreams and to name each one. And then to remember that striving isn't why we're here. Chasing and achieving isn't what we're meant to do. I bring myself back to my center, over and over again, knowing from experience that some day living from this place will be my normal.

With practice and attention I'm getting better at recognizing the rising panic within that screams "I have to get this done quickly because I have so much else to do!" I relax my body and heart and mind. I soften my breath and feel - feel whatever it is that I'm doing. When the anxiety starts to brew I ask myself, "What is it you chase?" Most of the time I can't come up with an answer.

This morning as I sat by the fire and did my morning pages [more on this another day], I watched and listened to my kids. I was filled with gratitude and overwhelmed with joy simply because I get to be a part of their world. I watched them, fully present, play and act and create. I listened to their words and felt their presence. No worries or thought about past or future. My teachers in tiny form.

Moments like these await us when we set down our striving and chasing and ambition. The work is part reclaiming the beauty of the present we once knew and part learning how to live from this place in the reality we now have. It takes time, practice and compassion. It requires trading the sweet taste of completion, achieving, striving and the chase for a pace that's sustainable, a deep sense of worth and a life that feels that much more whole.

Today, ask yourself this: what is it you chase? Can you name it? Is it fulfilling or sapping you of energy and life? Ask yourself why you do what you do [work, parenting, hobbies, etc.]? What keeps you coming back? Keep asking that question until you get to the core. The place that first brings a knowing smile to your face if only for a second. Or maybe the place where you know it's time to give that thing up or reconfigure.

Peace to you, friends.

PS - If your curiosity is eating you alive, here's the podcast