My Year

2014 was my year. 2014 was the year I left everything familiar behind, and took off with nothing but a backpack and a passport and a desire to explore the world. This was the year I truly got to know myself, inside and out. No one else on earth who knows exactly what I've been through, the good and the bad. It belongs to me and only me.
I am leaving 2014 a different person than I was when I started it. Not because I've changed, really. But because I have learned what I am capable of. What I have always been capable of, but was too scared to ever test. I no longer use the phrase "I could never do that" because I can do anything.
While many of my friends back home are falling in love for the first time, learning the dynamics of relationships and compromise, I was learning about myself. Every time I had a hard day, it was a day to remind me what I am made of. The only person I know will be with me every second of every day of this life is me. So I learned to really love myself.
I met amazing people along the way and together we had incredible experiences and those times will always belong to us no matter where in the world we end up. I don't know where I would be without all the people who helped me along the way, loved me, or simply shared space with me. I met people who helped reveal my own shortcomings to me. I met people who lifted me higher than I ever thought possible. I met so many people just like me who reminded me just when I was starting to doubt myself, that I'm not crazy. I can do this. And I did.
2014 was my year. It was a year of adventure and self discovery, excitement and sometimes terror, heartbreak, but more than that love. I am grateful for every lesson and every opportunity I've had this year. 2014 will always belong to me.

Incredible India

I didn't love India because it was easy. Quite the opposite. India stared into me and made me feel naked in ways I didn't know I could. It expertly probed at my soul and found the most sensitive parts, poking at them as if they were only bruises on a peach. It made me feel uncomfortable in ways I resisted at first, but the longer I spent there, the more I learned how to accept. The bruises gradually toughened.
I learned things about myself. I had always thought myself a very independent person. I was always proud of the fact that I needed no one to be happy. India showed me a sort of community that I had never known existed. It was as if I had been missing it my whole life and never even knew what it was. It filled a space in me that I didn't know was there until it wasn't. I know now that needing people isn't something to be ashamed of.
India revealed my shortcomings to me as casually as a friend telling me about their day. I learned to read into my feelings of frustration and helplessness and to dig to the root of them. I know now that time is an invention of humans and it has no importance. India taught me that.
I would sometimes feel as though India was scrubbing me until I was raw. Standing in the busy streets, covered in a layer of filth, I never felt cleaner. More exposed. As if the layers covering my soul had melted away and my true light could finally shine through, unobstructed.
And I felt accepted. I was stared at with my blonde hair and fair skin. Everywhere I went, I felt eyes. Normally, in other countries this made me feel uncomfortable, as if I was on display. But the love in the heart of Indians made it something different. I felt vulnerable as I had never felt before. But I felt safe.
For me, discovering India opened a whole new world. And it revealed a whole new me. I know that this me was here the whole time, guiding me along from her hiding place deep within. But India was the place I finally met her and we finally became one. I love that land with my whole heart. I love the people and the smells. I love the sounds and the colours. But most of all, I love the person India makes me, and there is no love stronger than that. 

5 Life Lessons From Travelling in India

10 things I learned from travelling in India:

1. Everything is temporary.

Doesn't it always seem as if bad days are longer than good ones? A three hour plane ride in the middle seat seems infinitely longer than one with an isle or window. A good night's sleep goes by in a flash where as a bad one seems like it will never end.
When travelling in India, I have had to remind myself numerous times that everything is temporary. Everything comes to an end. I won't be on this bumpy, stinky bus forever. I won't be holding triangle pose for the rest of time.
That goes for the good things as well. Enjoy the beautiful moments when you have them because they won't last forever. Everything is temporary. Everything ends. And something new is always ready to begin.

2. Accept help

I used to hate asking for help, or even accepting it when it was offered. I felt like a nuisance to the person helping me.
 But it's pretty hard to get through travelling, especially in India, without at some point needing somebody's help. Whether you've had your wallet stolen are stranded with no money, or you're so sick you can even imagine moving, but desperately need water. You need help. I've been both the helper and the helpless, and I've found that when I'm the one doing the helping I enjoy doing it. Helping someone who needs it feels good. Since realizing this, I've become more open to accepting help when I need it. And as a result, I have accomplished things I maybe never would have otherwise, and made meaningful, lasting friendships along the way.

3. Not everybody has to like you. And not everybody will.

I have met a lot of people travelling and the great thing about it is that many of these people are like minded individuals who share my views on important things and have similar values. I've made a lot of lifelong friends. But I've also learned not everyone is my new best friend. I have also come across people who have no interest in getting to know who I am or what I'm about, for any number of reasons. And that's okay too. I just have to remember that whether or not this person likes me has nothing to do with me as a person.
Every person deserves the same compassion. Even if they don't treat me with kindness, I resolve to treat them better than they treated me. I don't know what they've been through, but I know what I've been through and I know that the kindness of others along the way is what has helped make me who I am today.

4. Trust your instincts

Travelling alone, you find yourself constantly coming across opportunities to experience amazing things. You meet so many people that want to show off their country or way of life. In order to experience these things, you have to trust.
I have found that in most cases, I get a certain vibe, be it good or bad, within a minute or so of meeting someone. I have a feeling of whether or not this person is wanting to help me or harm me. I have learned to trust these instincts and because of that, I've had some amazing experiences and avoided some potentially dangerous or not so great experiences.
Instincts are a beautiful thing. Learn to trust them and they will never lead you astray.

5. Things are only things

Possessions come and go often when you're living out of a backpack. Climates change and you have to leave clothing behind in order to make room for more weather appropriate attire. Things get ruined. You get stuck in the rain and your not so waterproof camera gets wet. Things get lost. Things get stolen. But I've learned through the impermanence of my few possessions that I can always live without it.
Sometimes we get so attached to our possessions that we care more about them than other people or the experiences we are having. Don't forget that things are only things. They come and go. Be okay with letting things go. 

The Lonely Mountain Chapter 2: Yuruche to Yuruche

I woke up bright and early the next morning feeling excited about the day ahead. So excited in fact, that I only ate half of my breakfast and was packed and ready to go before anyone else was done eating. "Ready already?," the guide from the day before asked me.
"She's always ready," said one of the French girls.
"Sometimes she walk, sometimes she fly," replied the guide. I laughed and said goodbye to everyone I had met and told them perhaps I would see them later on the trail before it split. And with that, I was on my own again.
I stepped out of the home and on to the path. The mountains on one side, and the stream on the other. I started walking down the path, full of confidence. I jumped down into the stream bed and was hopping from rock to rock trying to keep my shoes dry and rapping "I am a God" at the top of my lungs. In the distance, I could see a path going between two mountains, so I set my sights there. After about half an hour, I reached the path. I followed it for a few minutes when suddenly it did a 180 and led up a hill. It seemed strange to me that the path would turn like that, but there was clearly no other way, so I followed it. At the top of the hill, the path turned again back the same way it was to begin with. This reassured me and I continued on my way. After about ten minutes however, the path was so faint I could barely keep track of it. Every once and a while, a hoof print would faintly appear ahead of me, and this would comfort me enough that this was the correct way, and I would keep walking. But eventually, even the hoof prints were nowhere to be seen, and I found myself standing among the biggest mountains in the world, lost, and completely alone. No need to panic yet though. My iPod told me it was only 11:00. I had been walking for three hours. If I had to turn around and retrace my steps, I would still make it back to Yuruche by 2:00. Plenty of time before it gets dark around 7:00. So I weighed my options. I could turn back, accept that my 6 hour day was a loss and try again the next day. I turned and looked back at all the distance I had covered and instantly knew this wasn't an option. There was no way I was walking another three hours back the exact same way I had just come. This left one option. I turned to face the mountains ahead. I squinted. There! Up that mountain! A path! My heart leapt. I would have to walk about 400m horizontally across the mountain I was currently standing on, but I could make it. Balancing myself on the sliding rocks, I slowly started to make my way across the steep mountain, the rocks slipping with every third step sending me sliding down on my side for a few feet. Finally, I made it to the path. About 30 feet lower on the slope than where I started, but I was there. I assessed the road ahead. The path went straight up. The rocks were bigger however, so at least they wouldn't slip as much. I took a big gulp of water, and started the ascent.
Three steps in: I collapse, exhausted on the rocks. Trying desperately to suck enough thin air into my burning lungs. I sit for 30 seconds. My head stops spinning. I look up at the path ahead. I have a dark realization. This isn't a path. People bring horses on this trek. There is no way a horse can rock climb. I looked behind me and suddenly saw for the first time what I was really looking at. It's not a path. It's a dried up stream bed. About 30m up, the stream turns around what looks to be the highest rock, dusted with glittering snow. Despite the fact that I am now irrefutably off the trail, I still can't bring myself to turn around. I think I can make it to that rock. Then maybe from the top I will be able to see the path and get to it. So I climb, collapsing every third step, gasping for air. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, I could almost see around the rock. One more three step journey. I pull my pack straps tight and hoist myself up. 1...2...3...I can see... Another mountain. A higher one. No great view. No path. Another mountain. I collapse, utterly spent, and stare down the mountain at the distance I've covered, imagining the stream bed flowing freely with my blood, sweat and tears. I sit like that for a long time.
Eventually, I had to bring myself to acknowledge that I'm going to have to turn back. At least to where I last saw the true path. I still hadn't given up hope that I could make it to Skyu before dark. I refused to look at the time though, out of fear that it would be too late and I would have to give in. I started to descend and it immediately became clear that descending on these rocks is not much easier than going up. After a few feet, I took off my backpack, took out my camel pack, and kicked my backpack down the slope. I watched it roll a few feet down the mountain, taking some loose rocks with it. I followed. And like that, I climbed down.
I walked for a long time back in the direction I had come from, still refusing to check the time. Finally, I came across the place where the path had turned so sharply. I scanned the dirt for new footprints, showing that my new friends had followed after me. But found only hoof prints, and occasionally the faint sign of my own shoe. This was the wrong path. I sat down, exhausted and shrunk lower and lower into the earth as I realized the inevitable. I would have to spend another night in Yuruche. Eventually, I worked up the energy to stand, and started following the stream back. This time, I didn't bother to hop from rock to rock. I just let my shoes get wet.
Maybe an hour or so later, the home stay appeared in the distance. I didn't even have the energy to be frustrated any more. I decided to press on without a break until I reached it. It was a longer walk than I had anticipated, but I refused to stop. When I finally arrived, I fell onto the front steps, took off my pack, and closed my eyes. I was so entirely out if energy, I could scarcely imagine how I would walk up the steps to the bedroom. I laid on the front steps for about 15 minutes, drifting in and out of sleep. I awoke to the sound of voices approaching. I pressed myself up in time to see a couple approaching with a guide walking a few steps ahead. "Where did you come from today?" The guide asked when he was close enough to yell.
"Here." I yelled back, and smiled faintly. He gave me a confused look. When he was close enough to speak to at a regular volume, I explained to him that I had come from Zinchen the day before and had set out for Skyu that morning but had somehow gotten lost.
"Ma'am... how? The path is very simple," he said, offering no sympathy.
"I don't know," I replied weakly, and lay back down on my makeshift porch bed.
"There are some tents about 35 minutes ahead if you want to stay there," he said, "They're cheaper and will make for a shorter day tomorrow."
I peered at him from under my heavy eyelids. "35 minutes?" I asked. He nodded. I pulled out my iPod and checked the time for the first time since that morning. It was 5:30. I had  already walked for over nine hours, including the scaling of a rock face. What was another 35 minutes? "Okay." I said, hoisting my pack onto my back and standing up. At least this way I wouldn't have to tell the whole story to the people at this homestay. So from there, the four of us set off. The guide and his clients, (couple from France) and me bringing up the rear. After about ten steps, I realized how I had gotten so hopelessly lost. Where I had jumped down into the stream bed that morning, I had left the blatant path. Ten steps into my journey I was already on the wrong path. How I made such an obvious, silly mistake, I will never know. But at least now I was going the right way.
Twenty steps later, I found I could no longer put one foot in front of the other. I dropped my pack to the ground and curled up beside it, using it as a pillow. I laid like that for about 5 minutes, until I had enough energy to stand again. Ten steps later, I collapsed again. By this point, the other three were so far ahead they were almost out of sight. I carried on like this the whole way.
An hour and forty five minutes later, I finally arrived at the tents. The sun was sliding below the mountains and the sunlight was quickly fading. The French couple and their guide were nowhere to be seen. I sat down in a small plastic chair, pulled my sweat pants and socks out of my pack and wriggled into them while I waited to for someone who owned the place to surface.
I must have fallen asleep in the chair, as the next thing I knew I was being gently prodded awake by a small Tibetan man. I reluctantly opened my eyes and he was looking at me with a big toothless grin on his face. I couldn't help but smile back.
"Can I stay?" I asked. He nodded and pointed behind him. One of the tents had been prepared for me while I dozed in the chair and was waiting with the door tied open and the blankets pulled back. I can safely say I have never seen a more inviting sight as long as I've lived. I thanked him profusely, grabbed my pack, and climbed in. I meant to lay down just for a minute before organizing my things and having some dinner, but the second I laid my head on the thin, cold pillow I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep and didn't awake until the next morning. 

The Lonely Mountain Chapter 1: Zinchen to Yuruche

The Markha Valley trek is a common choice among hikers in Ladakh. It's relatively mild difficulty and choice of two nights or five make it accessible to many. I chose this trek because I didn't have enough money to pay a guide, and figured since it is such a common trek, the path should be quite easy to follow. I seem to have temporarily forgot that I have absolutely no sense of direction and a knack for getting lost. But we'll get there.
    The first day started in a place called Zinchen and was to end, five hours later in a village called Yuruche. It just so happened that six others (two Israeli guys and four French girls) were starting the two night trek from the same place on the same day, so the seven of us shared a taxi to Zinchen. About 25 minutes into the ride, the car suddenly stopped. We looked out to see that the road had been blocked by a massive landslide. Rocks were piled up almost 3 meters high. There was no question, we were walking from here. As we donned our gear and said farewell to our driver, the words of my friend from earlier echoed in my ear. "This is a good year to do this trek as it is the last year you can do it without a guide," he had said, "many people died on the trek this year. In fact, just a couple of days ago, an Israeli girl died in a landslide."
As ominous as a beginning it seemed, my anxieties were soon forgotten as the landslide was left behind and the mountains enveloped me on all sides. The first day was glorious. I passed a couple of people along the way, but for the most part, it was just me and the Himalayas. I stopped for tea in a little tent about two hours in, and from there, the path took a sharp left turn. I continued on about ten minutes down the path when a passed a Shepard going in the other direction. He asked me where I was headed. When I told him, he laughed and pointed back the way I had come. "You are headed to Stok," he said. Stok is a town near Leh. Had I continued on that direction, it would have been a very short trek indeed. He told me to follow him, so turned around and walked straight back to the tea tent. From there, he pointed me in the right direction and again I was off. I stopped for a short break every half hour or so for water and to enjoy the beautiful scenery around me. Even with the breaks and the slight detour, I arrived in Yuruche an hour and a half ahead of schedule. I put my things in my room (which was just big enough to fit a mattress on the floor and my backpack beside it) took my tea and book, and sat down beside the path to wait for the others I had passed.
Over the next hour or so, they slowly trickled in group by group. First came an English couple I had passed near the beginning and their guide.
"What time did you arrive?" The guide asked.
"1:30," I replied, "What time is it now?"
A quick glance at his watch revealed the time to be 2:15.
"Good pace," he said.
"I have long legs," I replied.
"No, you are strong. Your pack is heavy. It's a good pace."
I smiled in spite of myself. I was starting to think maybe trekking was my thing after all.
As the rest of the groups arrived, we congregated on the roof in the quickly disappearing sunlight and talked about our travels, our countries, what brought us to India. Every once in a while we would find ourselves in the shade as the sun sunk ever lower below the mountains and we would move further over to take full advantage of the sun's rays. Eventually, it disappeared all together and we were driven inside by the plummeting temperatures.
There, we played cards, had dinner, and at 8:00, found ourselves overwhelmingly sleepy. Despite the early hour, we all retired to our respective rooms, preparing for the next day which the guides had told us consisted of a three hour climb up to a 4500m pass, and a four hour descent to our next town of Skyu. The first day of my trek had been perfect. Besides the short detour, the path had been easy to follow, my pace was good, my pack hadn't proved too heavy. I went to bed feeling confident and optimistic about the next day. Perhaps too optimistic as the next day would show...

The Gift of Being Present

     One of the most amazing things I have found since I began travelling, is how important it is to be present. So often, my mind completely takes over and I get so lost in my thoughts that I completely miss the present moment. I think "wow, this is beautiful." And immediately my mind starts creating the Facebook status I'm going to write about it later, or imagining how I'm going to describe this beauty to a friend or family member at home. Meanwhile, the beauty is still all around me, but my busy mind has made me blind to it.  
But lately, I've been making a conscious effort to stay present. To truly take in the vast beauty of what I'm seeing.
In the first case, the mind knows what it's seeing is beautiful. It's an automatic response to say "this is pretty." But then it gets immediately distracted.
When I'm making an effort to be present, to still the mind and take in the beauty with the eyes of the soul, it feels completely different. The trees and the mountains are alive. My mind is still, but I can feel to the core of my being the beauty that is all around me. The beauty is reflected inside me and I know that all beings everywhere are one.
It's almost comparable to someone telling you you look nice, but the good feeling is multiplied by millions. Trillions even. Because it's not my outer appearance (which isn't truly me and will one day disappear) that is being complimented. The entire earth is complimenting everything good within me. And I KNOW it to be true! What a better feeling than looking out at this amazing, gorgeous, living, breathing planet of ours, and knowing that all of that beauty and more exists within each and every one of us, whether we realize it or not.
Often times, when my mind switches back on by force of habit, my first thought is an overwhelming urge to hug everything and everyone on this earth. I feel so connected to my fellow beings and the only way my mind can attempt to grasp this feeling is by wanting to be physically close to everything. Which of course is impossible. But imagine if everyone made a conscious effort to be present? Human destruction would cease. Killing of other sentient beings, the destruction of this amazing planet we live on. It would all stop. Because people would realize that everything out there is an extension of themselves.
I believe we have all had glimpses of this feeling, when the sheer beauty of something stops our thoughts, if only for a few seconds. Next time, try to make it last. Or create it for yourself. Any time, any place. You don't have to be overlooking snow capped mountains in northern India. You can look up at the deep blue sky on a summer day. Or allow the sheer vastness of the universe to overwhelm you on a clear night. You can find beauty in the untouched white after a fresh snowfall or in the sincere smile of a perfect stranger. But notice it. Really notice it. Feel it. Become present. Feel the earth beneath your feet and trust it to hold you. Feel the tickle of the breath on your nostrils and focus all of your attention on this moment right now. Allow yourself to receive the greatest compliment you can ever receive and relish in it, if only for a few seconds. Ain't nothing going to make your day like that. 

Expectation is the root of disappointment

About a week ago I went to a place called Dalhousie to climb the infamous Adam's Peak. The climb consists of 5800 stairs. We woke up at about 2AM and started the trek, hoping to arrive at the peak by sunrise. It is a treacherous climb. The pathway is pitch black, foggy, and infested with leaches. The stairs get extremely steep, especially near the top, and the wind is very cold and very strong. About halfway up, my friend decided to turn back. But I was under the impression that once I reached the top, all of my hard work would be rewarded with a gorgeous view of the sun rising over the hills and nearby lake. So I kept on. A few minutes after Kate turned back, I caught up with a couple of guys from Slovenia. The three of us huffed and puffed our way up the last half and arrived at the top an hour and a half before sunrise. It was only slightly above freezing at the top and the wind felt like it would tear my skin right off my bones. We found a little alcove where the force of the wind was slightly lessened and we waited.
As time progressed, more and more people arrived at the top. Eventually, the two Slovenians, three Brits and I decided to move to a little hallway we figured might give us slightly more of a reprieve from the wind pelting us with icy rain drops. The six of us hung out in that hallway for the next hour keeping each other warm with liquor and huddles. We shared stories of our travels and joked about our dire circumstances.
     Eventually, the time came for sunrise. We zipped and hooded up, and left our little hallway braving the cold for the spectacular sunrise we were sure to see. Well... We saw nothing. It was too foggy to even tell where the sun was supposed to be. Our spectacular sunrise ended up being the sky gradually, uniformly lightening while the wind tore at our clothes and faces.
     When I realized we weren't going to see anything, I had two choices. I could allow the dread that I could feel at the peripheries of my mind to take over. I could let my heart sink. I could allow disappointment to take over and leave a sour stain on everything I had so far experienced that day.
Or, I could be thankful for the experience that I had and enjoy it for exactly what it was.
     My first instinct was to be disappointed. We had come all this way, climbed all these stairs just for the view! I wanted the view! But as I felt my previous good mood melting away, I decided to take a step back and try the second option.
     The past two hours had been amazing! I had managed to keep climbing even when my muscles were screaming at me to stop. I had conquered 5800 stairs before the sun was even up. I had laughed and shared stories with people I otherwise would never have met and bonded with these same people as we huddled together to keep each other warm in the cocoon of blue fog that was stealing our sunrise.  I may not have seen the view I came for, but I had a great morning. It wasn't what I expected, but should that make it any less positive?
    Expectation is the root of disappointment. Expecting things to work out a certain way can often blind us from seeing the good in the way they do work out in reality. I'm learning to let go of expectation and be present. Suddenly, life seems so much sweeter.

My Dream Life

Everybody has a different definition of living. Everybody imagines a different thing when they think of their dream life. For some, it's having a job they love, a caring, loyal spouse, a comfortable home, and beautiful children. For some, it's having a mansion so big they don't even know what to do with all the space, 5 different gleaming sports cars in the garage, and vacations homes on white sand beaches all over the world.
But for me, it's exactly this. Travel. My dream life consists of no more possessions than I can carry on my back. It consists of sand in my sheets and showers that are never consistently cold or hot. Never being sure where I'm going to be sleeping two nights from now. Or maybe even two hours from now. It consists of meeting hilarious, inspiring, selfless, people from every corner of the earth to share all of my experiences with.
     I know this is my dream life because sometimes I am so overwhelmed with love for everything that I almost choke. I just want to run around and hug every living thing and squeeze them until our hearts explode. I want to climb to the tallest peak and scream to the entire world that I am so incredibly, hopelessly in love with every single cell of it.
     Everybody has a different idea of living. And thank God for that. How boring the world would be if we were all the same. Ask yourself what your dream life is, and go get it. Live it. For all any of us know, this is all we get. So love the shit out of your life!

Loneliness vs Solitude

Alone. The word can be positive or it can be negative. It can stir within you a feeling of fear or excitement. Having been travelling on my own for four months now, I have had my fair share of alone time. For the most part, I find it empowering, exciting, easy. But there are times when I feel so alone I have to fight the urge to jump on the next plane home where I can be surrounded by people who know me and love me.
 
   Alone. On one side we have solitude. On the other; loneliness. On one side we have the positive and on the other, the negative.

    Solitude is having a meal alone and being completely content in your own company. Solitude is wandering through the streets of an unknown city and getting completely and utterly lost, but feeling nothing but exhilaration because you are responsible to no one and have absolutely nowhere to be. Solitude is staying in on a rainy day and watching 10 episodes of Orange is the New Black because you feel like it. Solitude is amazing. It's necessary. It's getting to know yourself the way another might get to know you, by simply spending time with you.

    Loneliness, on the other hand, is having your heart broken and having no one to wipe your tears. Loneliness is being sick and having no one nearby who even knows you, let alone will hold your hair back while you are violently ill. Loneliness is being in a group of people who are all having fun and feeling like an outsider. Loneliness is dark. Loneliness is empty. But loneliness, too, is necessary.

     See, solitude and loneliness are two sides to the same coin. You can't have one without the other.  The amazing, empowering feeling you get when you are alone is only there because you realize that you have surpassed loneliness. You are content in your own company. There is no one else on earth you would rather be sharing this moment with than you. Of course we need others in our lives. When times are difficult, especially. But to know that you can always count on yourself and to be comfortable with that, that's the kind of alone I am becoming unable to live without.

Every Minute of It

I recently came across a saying on facebook or pinterest or somewhere that said "Be in love with your life, every minute of it." And at the time I thought that sounded nice so I liked it or repinned it or maybe both. Today, as I was sitting on the ground after teaching some new and old friends a yoga class in the park in the beautiful sunshine, that saying suddenly popped into my head. I thought, "This is what it feels like to be so utterly in love with your life. This right here."
   
  Then the second half of the saying came up. "Every minute of it." That's where it gets difficult. Of course I'm in love with my life right now. I'm in a beautiful place surrounded by beautiful people without a care in the world except where I'm going to sleep Monday night (I should maybe care, but I don't). The hard part is being in love with your life when you're almost done a 13 hour shift and about to lock the doors when a table walks in and orders coffee. Or that dreaded minute when you're in the middle of an argument and you realize you're wrong. You have to love these minutes too.
 
   I think the trick lies in soaking up the moments when it comes easily. When you feel truly content and happy, bask in it. Stop for a moment and really notice it. Remember it. Then when you are struggling to remember why life is so great, just try to remember that feeling. Remember that it exists, then go one step further and try to recreate it in your body and spirit. Regardless of circumstance. Because sometimes we forget that this entire life is a gift. The best gift we will ever receive. Every minute of it.

There's nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be

These past few weeks, I have found myself contemplating everything that has lead to me meeting all the people I have met, and continue to meet. Every moment, every decision in every one of our lives has led us here, to the same hostel or train or bar in Spain. Each of us with our own past. Our own reasons for being where we are. It's a rather exhausting thing to think about. I find myself contemplating the "what ifs". What if I had never chosen to go to Primavera Sound in Barcelona? I would have already walked the Camino. Would I have met someone who completely changed my life? Did I miss an opportunity?

    Last night, I walked into the common area of my hostel and there was a man sitting on the couch. He looked up at me, and before even saying hello, he said "You are a light bearer." So I thought "Cool, here's a weirdo. This should be interesting." But we started talking. He told me about how he used to be a workaholic. He used to care only about making money. And he was good at it. He had 70 million dollars in the bank. He had planes, boats, cars, properties. Then the market crashed and he had nothing. He was living in a parking lot. Cold, wet, and hungry. So he started a non profit organization, and before he knew it, he was speaking in front of thousands of people, several times a day. He told me the market crash was the best thing that has ever happened to him and he couldn't be more grateful.

     His plan now, is to spend a month in every single country. It will take him 15.7 years he says. But he's doing it. He's already been to countries that Americans "can't" go. He's already been threatened with death numerous times. He's been robbed. He's nearly been arrested. But he told me "When you radiate love and peace, you are protected. Nobody wants to hurt someone on their side. So give. Give everything you can. Love everyone with everything you have. Be a source of divine light. You will be amazed what life gives back to you."

    As I was thinking about this, he asked me, "What have you learned on your trip?"
When people would ask me this question before, I would say something along the lines of the world being too big and beautiful to ever comprehend. But this time, without thinking, words were just falling out of my mouth. I said, "I have learned that every person I meet on this trip needs something from me, and I from them. Every moment, in every one of our lives brought us here, together, not out of coincidence, but because our paths were meant to cross. And sometimes the lessons and impacts we have on each other are greater than others. But I have never made a wrong decision in my life and I never will. It's not possible."
"Do you understand now how you are a light bearer?," he asked, "I saw it in your eyes the moment you walked in."
And I understood.
 
   For the rest of the night, I walked slower, I noticed more, I felt peaceful. Very similar to the feeling you get after a really amazing yoga practice. I felt so incredibly present.

     The man left this morning, and I likely will never see him again. But he came into my life and accomplished what he came to do. He reminded me that there is no "what if." There is only what is. And what is is exactly perfect.

Finding Yourself

    Often times, you hear people say that they are going travelling to find themselves. When I left home, I would say this, but not really fully grasping what it meant. This morning, as I sat on the beach and watched the sunrise with a new friend and fellow solo traveller, our discussion turned to why we were here. Why we were travelling alone. He said "When you're in the same place,who you are is constantly influenced by the people around you. Everyone is guilty of it. Acting differently around different people. But when you're travelling, you only have you. You have to be who you are."

    I've been reflecting on this all day. Solo travel strips you down to your rawest, most vulnerable core. Everyone you meet is seeing you for the first time. They don't know you through someone else. They haven't heard stories about your past or what kind of person you are. You are just you.

   I started to compare this to the search for enlightenment. Yoga, meditation, Buddhism, really all religions if you want to look at it this way, they all centre around uncovering your true self. Stripping down the layers of personality and hobbies and all the artificial things that make up "you" and getting to the centre. To the purest form of you.
 
   And I finally understood exactly how travel helps you find yourself. When you're out in the world, alone, meeting new people, you don't have a preconception of how to act around these people. You just have to be yourself. Your raw, pure, true self. It's a journey of discovery. Pealing back all the layers of who you thought you were and coming home to the truth.

It's a small world after all

     I find when I'm at home, the world seems so big. Far away places seem as though they aren't even part of the same world. But travelling shows you how small the world really is. I can be surfing in Portugal one day, and if I wanted to (though I don't, sorry mom) I could be back in Canada tomorrow.

     When I look up at the sky, no matter where on earth I am, I'm always looking at the same sun. The same moon. Grass smells the same, wind feels the same. We all share these things. Every one of us.
 
   People are the same everywhere too. They may speak a different language, have a different colour of skin and a different way of dressing, but they are the same. Elderly couples, young families, teenage boys with their pants around their knees. Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, lovers. Humans.

     With this realization comes the knowledge that I belong everywhere. I may speak a different language, have a different colour skin, or dress differently. I may sometimes feel as though I am out of place. But I'm not. I belong everywhere. There are people like me everywhere. In every country in the world is someone that would like to be my friend and me theirs.

     We are all citizens of this earth. Suddenly, these places don't seem so foreign. Suddenly, it seems impossible to feel homesick. How could I? I am home.

Backpacking Community

I love the backpackers community. Living in a hostel these past few weeks, I have met so many backpackers. People just like me. Last minute planners, free spirited people who just want to see the world. All of it.
     The backpacker community looks out for each other. We all know what it's like to get lonely on the road. We help each other through it. It's amazing the bonds you form with people after only spending a couple days with them.
     The backpacker community shares. Conversations revolve around "Where are you headed next?" "You have to see this!" "This hostel is amazing and you have to eat at this restaurant." We want everyone to have the great experiences we had. But we also understand that we're all on our own journey. No one tries to force anything on you. Opinions, recommendations, all simply there for you if you wish to engage.
     I have had so many interesting conversations with so many interesting people. All of us coming from a different place, but all with this insatiable wanderlust that ties us together. Late night discussions about spirituality, yoga, beer, our pasts, our futures.
     But when we part ways, the thing I love most, is that backpackers never say goodbye. It's only ever "See you again." We exchange information, or maybe we don't, but we are part of a community. We might meet up again in a hostel elsewhere. It might be next week, next month, who knows, maybe even in a few years. Maybe I will stay with you when I travel another time. Or maybe, as is probably most often the case, we never will see each other again. But we got exactly what we needed from each other in the time we were together.
     I feel so incredibly privileged to be a part of such an amazing community. I feel somehow tied to every backpacker around the world. We may never meet, but we know each other exists. Every hostel you ever stay in, you can be sure there will be someone there that you can learn from, share with, and who will forever hold a little place in your heart.

Love and Lungs

Mourning a relationship is a strange feeling. It's hard to mourn an intangible thing. You can't reach out and touch a relationship, yet when it's gone, it feels like a physical thing has left your life.

    It feeds on love. When the love is abundant and pure, the relationship is like full, healthy, pink lungs. Inhaling and exhaling. Providing the rest of the body with the energy it needs to survive. It receives the love circulates it, basks in it, and radiates it outwards.

     But sometimes, even with all the love, other, negative things can start to build up. Like the beginnings of cancer on healthy lungs. Jealousy, envy, insecurity. Slowly but surely, diminishing the efficiency. Suddenly, the love doesn't flow so freely any more. It is obstructed.

     And other times, there simply isn't enough love to keep the relationship healthy. It begins to suffocate and wither. Whether the love is diminishing from one side or both. Eventually, the lungs will stop There's nothing left to breathe.

    But even healthy lungs can suddenly stop. For no apparent reason. It can't be explained. They just collapse.
   
     Whether there have been signs, a time to prepare, or the relationship just ends abruptly, leaving you wondering what on earth went wrong, it hurts either way. It may have been a defective relationship, but it was a part of you. A living, breathing, part of your life. And when it's gone. There is a hole in your chest. Where you used to feel light and love, you now feel empty.

     Eventually, the space will grow smaller and smaller. The pain will lessen with everyday that passes. But it seems as though there will always be a little hole there. A little reminder of what once lived there.

     One day, a new relationship will take it's place. New lungs will develop. With every inhale, growing stronger. You will remember what it's like to be filled with love and light. Hopefully the new even greater than the old. But you will always have the scar. The reminder of what was wrong. Helping you to truely appreciate the healthy, full, pink lungs.

Here and Now

     Every once and a while, I get this feeling of utter calmness. I feel in that particular moment, I am exactly where I'm meant to be. It feels so peaceful, I'm almost afraid to move, lest I break the spell.
     I have been getting that feeling more and more lately. As I lay on a rooftop in Spain, listening to music, in the company of an American guy and a Dutch girl. No one talking. All of us just sharing the space. Each of us doing our own thing, but together. Each of us with our own past. Each of us with our own story that lead us here, to this place. Together.
     I spent a good deal of energy in the last three weeks trying to focus on the present. We would meditate for half an hour every morning, and it never came easily to me. I had so much trouble trying not to think about the past, or imagine the future. But then all of a sudden, when I'm not even trying, I find these moments of such calm. I don't have to try to focus on the present, it just happens. I don't care about the past. It doesn't matter what happens in the future. The present just envelopes me. Like the warmth of the sun on your skin, or a cozy blanket on a cold day.
     I think that is what is so addictive about travel. At times, you feel the most intense loneliness. It can be a weird feeling, being so far from anyone who knows your past, or who has known you for longer than a few days. But then, all of a sudden, without even realizing it was happening, you are laying on a rooftop in Spain, with two people who don't know your past, who have only known you for a few days, and you feel so incredibly at home. There is no where on earth you would rather be, and no one on earth you would rather be sharing space with. And in that present moment, nothing else matters.

Travelling and Falling in Love

     Travelling is conducive to love. Quite often, people fall in love with each other while abroad. They are experiencing amazing things together, and often living together as well. It makes perfect sense. Isn't that the whole idea behind honeymoons? Travelling is romantic.
     But me? I fall in love with places. I fall in love with the smell of a place. The aroma of food, of fresh ocean air, I have even been known to fall in love with the smell of burning garbage. I fall in love with the way the ground feels under my feet, be it concrete, cobblestone, gravel, or mud. I find myself imagining what it would be like to spend my life in this city or town. I imagine what it would feel like to walk to and from work. To go on a vacation, and dream of calling this place home. I fall in love with the feeling of a place. Some places are laid back, some busy, some quiet. I love them all. I want to experience them all. And not in the travellers sense, spending a few days here, a few days there. I want to live there. I want to find the little local coffee shops that sell the best coffee, but tourists don't know about. I want to learn the local language and converse with the same people every day.
     This is why, when offered a week long trial run, teaching yoga at a hostel in Seville, Spain, I jumped at the opportunity. If all goes well, I will be spending the next six weeks here. Living here. Teaching yoga to travellers. Of course it won't be enough time to learn the local language. And the walk to work consists of a flight of stairs. But for a period longer than a few days, I get to call Seville home. Sometimes, a period longer than a few days is all you need to fall head over heels.
 

The Eye Contact Phobia

     Today was my favourite day of training so far, and quite possibly one of my favourite days of my life.
     We finished up with our last anatomy session, and with that came a strange realization. This is almost over. Soon, we'll all be parting ways. Some of us back home, back to work. Some of us on to the next adventure. But none of us together. In a few days, this amazing family we have built will be saying goodbye.
     After the anatomy session was over, our instructor invited us to stand in two lines, facing each other. We were then instructed to look into the eyes of the person opposite us for 5 breaths, and read what their eyes were saying. Then, one line would shift, and you would find yourself reading a new set of eyes. At first, it was a little awkward. We would giggle and shift our gaze. But it seemed odd to me. It was only 5 breaths. Why was it so difficult to hold eye contact for 5 breaths with these people I have become so intimate with in the last two weeks? So, as I have done so many times in this training so far, I welcomed the discomfort. I opened my eyes, held my gaze steady, and breathed. By the time we got to the end of the line, I was overcome with emotion. Suddenly, I felt that I knew these women (and man), on such a deeper level than I had before that exercise. And no words were exchanged. But our souls had spoken to each other. And that was such a deeper connection than any words can make.
     Eye contact is so under rated in society today. It's so strange how people avoid it. They look anywhere but your eyes. Strangers will stare at the floor for an entire hour long bus ride if it means they don't have to look into another person's eyes. But when we get past this strange phobia and really take a minute to look into another person's eyes, it is truly amazing the things you see. Things that words alone can not express. It's a language of its own. The language that all living things can "speak".
     I challenge you to try it. Next time you're talking to someone, resist the urge to look away. Look into their eyes. What is their soul telling you?

Family Everywhere

It's not very often that you know while something is happening that it is one of the most important experiences of your life. But when it happens, you want to milk every second.
I've been at my yoga teacher training now for 10 days. I can not believe it has only been 10 days. It feels like it's been at least a month. I feel like a completely different person than I was 10 days ago when I first arrived in this unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar people. This place is my home now, and these people my family.
We start off every morning with a half hour of meditation from 7-7:30, followed by two and a half hours of yoga practice. For the first few days, I would wake up and think, "I just have to make it to 10:00. After that, I just have to sit and listen to lecture. I just have to make it through meditation and practice."
But slowly, without me even noticing, practice and meditation became my favourite part of the day. I look forward to finding out what the theme of the practice will be every day. Although it can be really difficult sometimes when my muscles are screaming at me to get out of a pose and my determination is screaming at me to stay in it, I absolutely love it. I love the mind over matter battle.
I also can not believe how much I have learned in 10 short days. Three days ago, we had to teach for the first time. Ten minutes of some variation of sun salutations. I didn't even plan anything because I thought ten minutes was trivial. Of course I could teach ten minutes. I got through five and I drew a blank. Suddenly I couldn't for the life of me think of a yoga pose. Of all the hundreds of classes and thousands of times I have been cued into a pose in my life, I couldn't think of one. Today, I taught a half hour. And it was easy! How did that happen in three days!?
I remember the judgements I had when I first got here. Someone would say something and I would immediately think "Well I don't like that person. I'll be avoiding them." And for the first few days, I did. Every time a person I decided I didn't like would speak, I would get annoyed. And somehow, in the last few days, that has changed too. All of a sudden I realized that getting annoyed with someone for the person they were was hurting them and me. You can feel it when someone doesn't like you. You can feel the negative energy. And for what purpose? So I decided to seek out these people and talk to them. And much to my surprise, it turns out I do like them! Every single person here is kind hearted and has something to offer me.
I know that when I leave here and return to regular life, it's going to be much harder to live like this. I know that it won't take long for my old habits to creep back. But at least I have the awareness now that I can do it. I can get past these immediate judgements I make and be much happier on the other side. Although it may take time and a lot of effort to break these habits I've had for my whole life, awareness that I can is the first step.
I'm one third of the way through my training and I've learned so much. I've learned so much about being a yoga teacher, but more than that, I've learned so much about myself. I truly can not wait to see what the next two weeks will teach me. I love this thing we call life.

Happiness Now

Wanting wanting wanting. We always want what we don't have. That new fancy car, that hot guy always flirts with you at yoga class, a fitter body, longer hair, nicer skin, the list goes on and on.
The funny thing is, once we get these things, they never seem so important anymore. You save up for years. You say, "I'll be happy when I get that car." And when you finally do get it, maybe you're excited for a while. You feel great driving around in it. But eventually the excitement wears off. And soon, it's just your car and you're wanting something else. You tell yourself "I'll be happy when I have that."
The problem is that we are always projecting our happiness into the future. We are never satisfied with the present moment. The truth is, nothing in the external world can make us happy. If we continue to seek happiness from the external world, we will continue to be disappointed. True happiness is within you, and it exists all the time.
Of course, you can't change the habit of wanting over night. We've spent our entire lives seeking happiness in possessions. But next time you think, "I'll be happy when...," just pause for a minute. Will you really? Or will it give you a temporary thrill, soon to be followed by a want of something else? Stop and think of all the amazing things you have in life. Think of how truly lucky you are just to wake up every morning. Begin to practice gratitude. Seek the happiness that is in every moment of every day. It exists. It's there. You just have to feel it.

If you want something bad enough, you have to work for it.
When I left for my training, my teacher's manual hadn't arrived yet. I figured it wasn't such a big deal, according to the website, I could buy it at the shop when I arrived. Upon arrival, I learned that they had run out of them, and wouldn't be getting any more in until I was gone. So I opted for the second best option, the ebook copy. I paid $26, and low and behold, it wouldn't download onto my iPad.
Meanwhile, we're learning at least 5 poses a day, the sanskrit names, the proper alignment, the cues, and one or two assists per pose. By day three, I was in full panic mode. I felt like I was falling further and further behind, and couldn't see a way out. Since deciding I wanted to do teacher training a year ago, my desire to teach yoga has just grown, and with it, my desire to do a good job. I felt like this was my opportunity to learn everything I need and it was slipping away and there was nothing I could do about it.
But as it always does, the universe prevailed. I have a book of daily meditations. Sometimes they resonate with me, and sometimes they don't. On this particular day, I got exactly the message I needed.
"Sometimes, the road ahead is blocked, but clearing the way becomes part of our journey. Learn to tell when it's time to let go, to surrender, to search for another road, a different path, another dream. But also learn to tell when it's time to move forward, through obstacles if need be, because the dream is electric, charged by Divine energy and love."
I read and reread that passage over and over. This is my absolute dream. There are parts of this training that aren't exactly what I was expecting. If I could, there are certainly things I would change, and if I let them, they get under my skin. But I just have to remember to take a deep breath and go with the journey. Take it as it comes because it is all important. If I want this bad enough, and I know I do, it will all work out. With or without the manual, I will become a teacher, and I know I will do a good job because I won't settle for anything less. If I have to work extra hard to keep up, I will do it. And I will be better for it in the end.
Everything that happens, happens for a reason. All the obstacles I encounter are there to teach me something. And though it may be hard to see the purpose at first, eventually I will know why, and I will be eternally thankful for each and every one of them.

My journey to become a yoga teacher officially begins tomorrow. But really, it started seven years ago.
I practiced yoga for the first time when I was 15 years old. A couple of friends and I decided we wanted to try something new, so we signed up for a once a week beginner yoga class. I can remember looking at the poster outside the studio of all the most advanced poses and thinking how amazing it was. It was like seeing something from the circus. It was amazing to see, but I couldn't even touch my toes. There was no way I would ever be able to bend that way.
Each class I would spend so much of my time staring at the clock wishing time would go faster. I would leave feeling pretty good, but when the three month session ended, I had no desire to sign up again. I had tried yoga, it wasn't for me.
A few years later, a studio opened up near where I live. I decided to give it another chance. I had been hearing all about the amazing benefits of yoga, and I figured it was about time I started caring about my health. So I bought a groupon for three months of unlimited yoga. I went three times.
I just could not find the motivation to go. I said I couldn't quiet my mind enough, I wasn't flexible enough, I didn't like the feeling of burning muscles as I had heard some people did. Again, I had given it a try, and it wasn't my thing.
Over the next few years, I finally did find the motivation I needed to have a regular exercise routine. It took me gaining twenty pounds to find it, but I finally had the desire to live a healthier life. I went to the gym a few times a week, and slowly but surely started eating better.
However, when was 19, I all of a sudden fell into a rut. Suddenly I couldn't find the motivation to go to the gym. When I did get myself there, I would do a couple little circuits, get bored, and go home. I couldn't figure out what had happened. I started to gain weight again, and I was miserable.
One day, on my way home from school, I saw a sign advertising free hot yoga. It turns out a new studio had opened up, and was offering free classes for the first week. I had never tried hot yoga before, and decided it was worth a try. At the very least, maybe it would give me the motivation I needed to get back to the gym. I remember the feeling I had the first time I walked into the change room at Hot Yoga Wellness. I looked around, and I just knew I would be spending a lot of time here. I couldn't explain it. I hadn't even tried a class yet, but something about it just felt right. It felt like home.
Sure enough, I loved the classes. I went almost everyday for that first free week. And as luck would have it, they were looking for energy exchangers. This meant that in exchange for free yoga, I would work at the studio four hours a week, mopping floors, folding towels, anything that needed to be done around the studio.
After only a few weeks of dedicated practice, I found myself craving yoga. Not only that, but I was back at the gym! I was eating healthy again, and I cared about my wellbeing.
After only a few months, I started to notice a difference in my behaviour, and how I felt in general. The "yoga high" I felt immediately after leaving a class started to last longer and longer. I found myself having more control over my emotions, and seeing life more clearly. It was like a fog had been lifted and I was now truly living life.
Inevitably, I wanted to spread it. I wanted to tell the whole world about how yoga had changed my life. And that's when I started researching teacher trainings.
Today, I can not imagine where I would be without yoga. It absolutely changed my life. I feel so grateful for the many opportunities I got to try yoga, and I am so incredibly thankful that one finally stuck.

One of the most enticing things about international travel, is the people you meet along your journey, and the lifelong bonds you form with them.
When I was 18, I lived in Kenya for four months. In the past six days, I have had the privilege of reuniting with two of the people who made that trip what it was for me. My roommates, Ben and Jack.
I decided when I was booking my flights for this trip, that there was no better way to start out a new journey, than by visiting the people I met on my last travel journey. I booked Chicago for 5 days, and London for 1, with the plan to return there after Spain.
From the minute I got into Ben's car in Chicago, it was like no time had passed at all. I felt completely and utterly at ease with him, just as I had when we were living together in Kenya three years ago. It was easy to see that both of us had changed considerably in our time apart. We had matured and grown. We are at very different places in our lives today, but we still have the same core values and beliefs that brought us together in the first place.
The same was true with Jack. We always had such a great time together. Me making fun of his accent, and him mine. We share so many similar interests and absolutely never run out of things to talk about.
It's funny to think that if I had never gone to Kenya, neither Ben, or Jack would be a part of my life. And not just them, but everyone I met on that trip. One of my very best friends, Katie, is living in Calgary, has a home, a husband, and a baby on the way. But every time I visit her, I see that dirty ass blonde girl I shared a twin sized bed with in a shack made of sheet metal.
Travel creates the strongest of bonds. You go through things with them that you can never truly explain to another living soul. You go through times when you want to kill each other, but when it's time to say good bye, it truly feels like you are saying good bye to a family member. Someone who, in a few short months, has managed to become so important that they actually become a part of you, and you a part of them.
 I am so incredibly thankful for the opportunity ahead of me to meet so many more people who will steal a piece of my heart. But I know I will never ever lose the friends I have already made. I love you, losers. But don't you dare tell anyone I said that.

A year. 52 weeks. 365 days. 8766 hours. These were the thoughts going through my head as I stood in the security line at the Edmonton airport watching my best friend and my boyfriend disappear into the crowd. I was suddenly acutely aware of just how utterly alone I was.
For months leading up to my trip, I had variations of the same reaction when I told people I would be making this journey alone. "You're crazy!" or "Wow... alone? I would never do that." I always brushed it off. Alone was the only way to do it, as far as I was concerned. But all of a sudden, the word "alone" felt different to me. Where it had once stirred an excitement within me, I now felt fear and loneliness.
The flight to Phoenix was restless. I managed to sleep on and off. When I was awake, all I could think about was what I was leaving behind. My life at home was good. It was great! What was I doing? I tried to read. I couldn't focus. I listened to music. It all reminded me of home.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, the plane landed in Phoenix. While we sat on the tarmac, waiting for our gate to clear, the woman next to me asked me if I was staying in Phoenix. I started to explain to her that I would be in Phoenix for 5 days, but I wouldn't be returning to Edmonton for a year or so. All of a sudden I was crying. As I told her about my amazing adventure ahead of me, tears rolled down my cheeks. I was embarrassed. I figured she would judge me. What kind of spoiled kid gets to go on the trip of a lifetime and cries about it? But much to my surprise. she didn't bat an eye.
"I did a trip very similar to that when I was your age," she said. "I lived and worked in Australia for a year, and afterwords, I travelled Asia for two months. Are you going alone?"
I told her I was, fully expecting the same reaction I had had most other times I had received this question. But much to my surprise, she smiled.
"It's the only way to do it," she told me. "You may be embarking alone, but once you begin your trip, you are never alone."
I thanked her, she went on her way, and I went on mine. But over the next 5 days, her words stuck with me. I slowly realized what she meant. I am going to meet so many people on this trip. I'm leaving behind so many great people, but they will be there when I get back. They will be there for me while I'm gone when I need them. But along my way, I am going to meet so many more people. A year from now, my life will be so much richer with relationships I could never imagine my life without.
And suddenly, the word "alone" didn't feel so scary. Alone felt like an opportunity. A challenge.
Come at me world. I'm ready for anything and everything you have to offer.

Dear Self,

You are enough. You do enough. You are constantly bombarded with people telling you what you should be doing. Know that these are suggestions. They are things people have found that work for them in their lives. You can’t do it all, nor should you feel as though you have to. Try new things, but remember that what you do is what works for you and it is enough.

You are plenty. Every single thought you have, decision you make, and action you perform are what makes up you. Don’t forget that you are an individual soul. Other people influence you, things influence you, but you will never be exactly like anyone else and no one else will be exactly like you. There are infinitely many little things that make up you, and each one is as important as the next. Don’t under value yourself. You are so much.

You are everything. The entire universe is within you. Everything beautiful in the world is beautiful because it acts as a mirror, reflecting your own beauty back to you. You just have to realize it.

 You are enough, you are plenty, you are everything.

For so much of my life, I have spent so much energy always trying to be happy. When something sad in my life happened, I would just choose not to think about it, so I wouldn't be wasting minutes of my life unhappy, when I could be happy. These thoughts would continually knock at my brain, trying desperately to be let in, to be acknowledged. And I would continue to keep them locked out. Eventually, time would lessen the pain associated with what ever event or thought it was that I was trying to avoid, and I could find myself thinking about it without feeling sad or anxious. I thought I had it all figured out.
Today, I began packing up all of my belongings from my room in the basement to make room for my brother to take it over when I leave. At first, it was a chore. It was something I had to get out of the way before I left. But as I emptied out my closet, and put all of my little ornaments and picture frames into boxes, an uncomfortable sadness started to bubble up deep in my belly. Instinctively, I turned my thoughts away from everything I was leaving behind. I turned on a happy song, turned it up, and continued with my chore.
Eventually, the song ended, and I was once again alone with this feeling. The back of my throat was aching, and I knew if I let myself, tears would start to form in my eyes. And at that moment, I thought "This is sad. I'm not just packing up a room, I am closing a chapter of my life. A chapter that held so much growth, and change. These last four years have been some of the best years of my life, and now, I have to let them go." And I decided to allow myself to feel the sadness. I sat down on the floor of my bedroom, and I cried. I cried for all the great times I had sitting on the floor of that bedroom with friends. I cried for the mornings (and afternoons) I spent in that room too hungover to move. I cried for all the times I came home late at night after an exhausting day, and my bed in that room was all I wanted in that moment. For the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to feel sad.
And soon enough, just as quickly as they started, my tears dried up. I expected to feel spent. To still feel sad and want, even less than before, to continue with this terrible job. But to my surprise, I felt amazing. It was like all the sadness I was holding in was released in the form of tears. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my of heart. I no longer had to try to force the thoughts out of my head, because they didn't cause me pain anymore. I had let go.
So today I learned a lesson. Sadness is an emotion for  a reason. I am allowed to feel sad. In fact, I am supposed to feel sad! We all are! How else will we know when we're losing or letting go of something that really mattered? As long as I can eventually let go, and know that this feeling can't last forever, It's healthy to be sad. It's more that just healthy, it's human.

As yogis, most of us have times when we eat, sleep and breathe yoga. We crave it when we're not doing it. We fill our time off the mat reading articles about yoga and looking at photos taken of amazing poses we hope we can one day master. We practice everyday, perhaps several times a day, and if we have to miss a day for what ever reason, we feel like we missed something gravely important that day.
But then there are times when you fall into a rut. You just don't seem to be getting the same benefits out of your practice as you were last month. You spend class frustrated with one thing or another. "This class is too hot." "I don't like this playlist." "Why in God's name is she holding warrior III for so long!" We leave class feeling less than blissful, and therefore find it increasingly harder to return to our mats day after day.
We may be frustrated with one thing in our lives or another, and projecting those frustrations onto the mat. Just like in a relationship, we often take out our frustrations on our partner. What is truly bothering us may have nothing to do with them at all, but you are comfortable with them, and you can take out your anger on them and know that they will put up with it and be there for you after it all has passed.
I have discovered a similar relationship with my practice. When something in my life isn't going my way, I often find that these are the times that I struggle to find peace in my practice. I find it hard to push my thoughts out of my head, and find it even harder to be alone with them. And I blame this restlessness on yoga itself. I blame the teacher, the temperature, the music, the farting man next to me. I do it because I know that once what ever is bothering me in my life has passed, my practice will always be there for me. Patiently waiting for me to come back to it.
Slowly, I am learning how to deal with what ever is bothering me directly, but for now, at the stage I am at in my life, it is so reassuring to know that my mat always has my back. No matter how long I go without, or how many negative thoughts I project onto my practice, it will always be there for me. People will come and go in my life, but my practice will always be there. That's a pretty awesome feeling.