Freaky Friday

Bow down bitches  

made another mistake 

a keep sake 

for you 

and your lame ass memory bank

Smokin and slangin 

no one cares the phone rangin 

we getting paper- gold wafers 

mad beats keep on bangin 

its not friday 

but its my friday 

keep chokin broke bitches

here’s ya earthquake 

its all in good taste 

no one to replace 

come at me sideways 

put ya ass in ya place

cause I’ve been straight

like gold and white lace 

laughing back at you 

while you in last place 

I know this is my way-

my way or the highway 

O- you on my level? 

haha nigga come try meh 

I’m just sippin and sitting in sun rays

I know the hands of these bitches

cause it’s my payday

swerve them niggas

cause it’s the rhyme way 

Pink slur, pink heard- 

here’s your fuckin pink friday 

sit back- just watch- 

your game is child’s play 

I’m low - like real low 

everyday is my b-day

Sit down- just relax 

drunk in this mix tape 

can’t ever replace 

there’s no second place 

I’d be bossin you slaves 

like it’s my macy's parade 

tell me what you all in for 

slam the front car door 

grab your girl 

give that bitch what she fuckin came for 

my name is not Bronson

I make Minaj my stepson 

this is real life son

holdin niggas for ransom

like warren buffet’s grandson 

these boys too damn handsome 

bitches be whining

while they wining and dining 

like they name is Mariah

when they really pariahs 

i put em out like a fire

Make yo bitch scream Fire!

No stupid hoe 

your sittin on my lighta

I aint afraid to just buy ya

before my ass even try ya 

throw you out like cancer 

before i go and indict ya

Time for you to retire

you need a god damn reminder?

For real?

I’ll be your igniter 

like my name Michelle Pfiefer 

tutor all these dumb bitches 

til they follow the rules 

if they don’t listen to me

persecute them like Jews

you aint winnin dumb bitches 

here’s permission to lose.

Is your ass still confused?  

go watch some cartoons

this is my master bed room 

I will prove myself to you 

my mind will pollute you 

while my body moves through you

I aint through with you 

you’ll feel me- you’ll get this 

My party favor for you.

Bitter-Fear-Face

Yesterday I saw a creative challenge on IG to write something everyday for 30 days.  It reminded me that I’ve only had a few “writing sessions” since I made a new year's resolution to write more.  So, on a blank piece of computer paper, I hand wrote: “March 2^nd: 30 days of writing-> my goal->”let it flow”.”   That was it.  & yes, I really drew the arrows.  Today I continued: “March 3^rd (sure did let it flow yesterday, Not.)”.  I realized handwriting is not going to work.

About a year ago, I found Instagram.  Since then, IG has taken on a strange presence in my life.  I blame the fact that I am a visual person.  When I study for school, for instance, I make elaborate charts/graphs/visual-assistants to prepare for exams.  I guess that’s why it seems intuitive for me to use IG as a motivational tool in my overall personal development.   I really love it.  That might sound cheesy, and I don’t care, IG has improved my confidence and hence improved my life and I’m not ashamed to say it.  But, don’t be fooled, IG didn’t become a “friend” overnight. 

At first, IG seemed like a place for people to boast and brag; a place for my “friends” to show off their newest expensive accessories an/or six packs.  I didn’t automatically feel inspired or motivated by pictures of skinny tan girls on the beach, I felt annoyed.  No wonder girls are so fucking negative and hateful about their bodies- we are held to unattainable standards and unachievable norms.  When I think back to my own thoughts on IG, just a year ago, I can relate them to my overall disposition on life.  

I was brand new to my new role in a brand new yoga studio.  I was having to come to terms with the fact that I did in fact live with my boyfriend, which was something I didn’t necessarily want to admit, given my shotty past (in case you aren’t aware, I’m borderline Taylor Swift).  I was unconsciously attached to the proposition that my performance in law school would inevitably determine the rest of my life’s success.  In essence, I was living in fear. 

Fear has many different faces.  One face of fear is terror, the kind that incites an involuntary scream.  Another face of fear is bitterness, the kind that incites an involuntary negative reaction to any stimulus.  I was bitter. 

Someone, whom I love very much, has said to me multiple times, “Life just really isn’t that fun is it?” – this is bitter-fear face. 

I do not mean to say that this one person is always bitter.  He or she is not.  I’m just giving a concrete example of something WE ALL say to ourselves from time to time that is demonstrative of a character flaw that needs to be addressed- FEAR. 

My first few months, or possibly the first year, of teaching I carried a lot of fear with me.  I would subdue this fear by inadvertently “kicking my classes ass”.  My brash-energetic-impulsiveness took my classes through some intense vinyasas that were too hot, too hard, & too cardio focused.  Here’s something that makes it all worth it though- my classes were like a porch light for all the anxiety-filled yogi-moths.  I got them hooked.  

As I have progressed as a teacher, and moved away from fear, I have learned to give my classes a more well-rounded and individualized experience.  Now, don’t get me wrong- I teach lot of 6 am classes, and I won’t pretend they are all gems, BUT I also teach a lot more privates now.  I’ve learned with my classes (particularly the small ones- because huge classes are just harder to provide with unique/individual help) and my private clients that I can’t let my emotions – be they fear or happiness or sadness- objectively affect my classes.  Subjectively I can’t really help it.  I know there are going to be bias and inclinations that bleed over.  But I can’t walk into a class with the object of getting everyone to burn 1000 calories.  

That’s my ego- my shit to deal with.  I’m fortunate that I met some awesome people who needed that ass kicking to fall in love with yoga, but that’s not my goal anymore.  I now just want to make everyone in my class feel a little bit better; even if it is .001% and lasts for 10 minutes- I’m successful. 

I’m thankful for the experience I had with fear over the past year in my yoga-teaching-practice.  I have no doubt that it will not be the last.  Letting go of fear- fear of people not liking me or my music choices or my sequences, fear of other teachers not liking me or judging me, fear of other people in “real life” judging me for my job- is liberation.  I am not only more comfortable in my teaching-practice, but I am more comfortable in my own skin and with my life in general.  I don’t spend my time thinking up ways that shit can go wrong.  I just try to see what is right in front of me and do the best with it.  & it works. 

My relationship fears were, and continue to be, an even bigger hurdle.  I share this, not to air my dirty laundry, but because I feel inclined to help people feel more comfortable with themselves.  It makes me feel better to know there are people in the world that I relate to, and if I can be that person for someone else, that is wonderful. 

I joke about never having kids, and I know I don’t mean it.  But sometimes the thought really does cross my mind.  One reason is that the older I get the more I realize that divorce has an implicitly damaging effect on a person’s ability to have healthy relationships.  I’m not saying that I think I will get another divorce.  But rather, my whole life I thought it was a good thing my parents got divorced.  It happened when I was less than able to cognitively remember life (2 years old), so it wasn’t a traumatic experience by any means.  

Recently though, especially in my own quest to have a healthy relationship, I have realized that divorce did affect me in a lot of ways.  So divorce itself is not so much what makes me worry about children, but rather INFLUENCE itself scares the hell out of me.  Kids are so easily influenced to develop hidden problems connected to the behaviors of their families and even the societies they are thrown into.  I just can’t imagine ever wanting to take on that kind of viable responsibility. 

My poor boyfriend, I’m an analysis machine.  It is easier for me to connect with facts and case law and UCC statutes than it is for me to sit down and have a talk about children or Love & Marriage (I can’t even internally take the shit seriously- my brain started singing the theme song).   Humans just seem so unpredictable and impulsive.  But we have the ability to change if and when we want to, so I suppose there is hope.

My hope for love lies in notions of self-observation.  I have to babysit my brain.  Let’s give my brain a name for a moment, Ayn Rand, yea that’s suiting.  You see Ayn picked up on childhood experiences and decided to become a CIA agent.  Ayn likes to jump to conclusions and concoct scenarios of deceit, out of evidence that does little to suggest such.  Ayn loves to go through other people’s personal shit- cell phone, cabinets, wherever the good stuff might be found.  Ayn also has a problem with accepting that people do things for reasons unknown to Ayn.  She is a real narcissist. 

I’m fortunate that Ryan loves me enough to put up with Ayn from time to time.  And let’s be real honest, she has probably held him accountable appropriately a couple of times as well.  But if I were to allow that side of me to control my every waking move, much like I was doing about a year ago, I would drive us both crazy (Ryan and I, not Ayn- that bitch already is crazy). 

When I was a teenager I needed someone to be going through my stuff, I was out of control.   Unfortunately, my emotional/coping cabinets were left untouched.  So I was externally probed, while internally I never really had any nurturing.  And I’m not blaming anyone for this.  I think intimacy issues go hand-in-hand with divorced families.  And like I said, my parents needed to get a divorce.  I have learned, that in order to overcome my relationship hurdles I have to practice self-observation.  And I think I am learning how to, somewhat efficiently. 

Mostly, I am just grateful that I have someone who loves me for all of my inconsistencies, someone who will work with me to temper my less than desirable characteristics.  Bitterness and fear held me back from understanding this paradigm for quite some time, but hey I’m only 24 this month so I’d say I’m catching up. 

Ayn makes her appearance in one other aspect of my life relevantly frequently, school.  She is judgmental, she has high expectations and she loves to compare.  If she ran the show I would either hate everyone and be “that girl” who people thought could possibly do harm to others if left unsupervised, or I would be so “loved” for a multitude of shams and cloaks that even an actress could not better fit the part.  I finally had a yogi say to me one day after class last year- What is it that makes you care about your grades, narcissism? 

That stuck with me, for a couple of reasons.  The most important- I don’t really care to be a 7am-7pm law firm associate.   If the last year has given me any foresight into the “career” path of my future, I will be helping people- normal people- live better, happier, more fulfilling lives, not helping a couple of partners fill their pockets.  Would it be awesome to beat myself up and make the very best grades possible to stroke my own ego, all the while knowing I have no intention of accepting positions that others will very valiantly be striving for?  Not really. 

Realizing that my grades were a reflection of my need to be the best, just for the sake of saying I can be the best, was a pretty awesome shift in the tectonic plates of my priorities.   While I have someone how maintained my GPA, it is the value of the knowledge that I am attaining now, that I appreciate more than anything.  I came away from finals last semester feeling as if I had really gained some pretty cool knowledge.  

In general, my ability to synthesize and make connections and patterns more vivid and apparent is increasing exponentially.   I have a newfound interest in the history and development of law, which makes me even more excited about understanding the direction our current public policy needs to be taking.   Letting go of my need to be a “perfect law student” allowed me to revert back to the student I was and have been for the past (almost) 6 years, a big political science nerd.

In the process of facing my career-fears, I’m pretty positive I sealed a fate that I wont end up working for anyone in our state’s top firms any time soon.  I’m also pretty positive that the moment I get accepted to the bar I am doing something yoga-intensive to cleanse my pallet from all the hogwash that comes along with becoming an attorney.  And while the crystal is not clear, it seems likely that my future will inevitably lead me to being politically involved.  Which some may think is a really scary thought, and maybe they are right.  

But hey, this life is what you make of it.  And I think it’s a fun, damn good ride J.  Follow me on IG, if you don’t already, for a daily dose of my insanity @whittyhaney…

Peace. Love. & Yoga my Ninjas,

Forever & Always,

Whitney Haney

I NEED THERAPY.

I don't look down on people who want to help themselves.  In fact, I try not to look down on anybody for any reason.

People are doing the best they can, with what they have, where they are, and that is all anybody can ever expect.  Sometimes we can do our best on our own, other times we need a little help & guidance.  Please don't judge yourself, or be hard on yourself for falling into the latter category.

I like to say, at least people who have been through therapy know how to some-what handle their problems, which has got to be better than running around throwing out negative vibes because you personally lack consciousness of how to cope with your emotions.  (Big Al calls this a personality problem)

Life is ups & downs, ebbs & flows.  There will be times of independence and times of dependence, times of joy and times of sorrow.  Roll with it, ask for help when you need it (especially in times of joy- we forget that sometimes, to ask for help in having a damn good time.  Anyone who needs help with that- I am in ha).

Keep in mind, asking for help doesn't make you weak.  Asking for helps means your strong enough to admit your own shortcomings, which in turn allows for greater improvement and growth.

Weakness is avoiding sensation out of comfort and habit.

Weakness is avoiding your true self to be less-stressed & numb in consciousness.

Weakness is stagnation, atrophy, and narrow-mindedness.

Weakness is feeding the beast of fear instead of feeding the power of your own divinity.

 I know this "own divinity" concept may not sit well with every Christian (God-fearing women are the bees knees right?) but that's because you immediately reject the idea I'm proposing without considering the implications.

God made man in his own image & yet gave us the power to have free will & be different.  Your heart beating is a gift-from-God-miracle and your free will is affirmation that God admired the unique and individual aspects of each soul.  We see this similarity/contradiction paradox throughout our human experience. For example, we all have thumbs (ideally- i know this is a blanket-overconclusive statement) but every person's finger print is slightly different.

We are similar for what makes us God-like (a body that is capable of life) & we are also similar for being unique (having our own characteristics and free will).  By embracing the things that make us different we become more unified.  Rather than striving to be a "perfect-person", our consciousness elevates to empathize with the notion that we are all perfect for precisely those things that make us feel imperfect.  If you're thinking "why should I want to improve myself/get healthier if we are all 'perfect'?" 1) I hope you get to a yoga class ASAP and 2) suffice it to say there is a reason enlightenment is not achieved by all and that reason usually happens to fill the space between a person's ears.

That's what makes this human experience so hard for some of us.  Contradiction feeds fear when we deny our own divinity.  (when we deny ourselves the honorable quest of good for goodness sake)

Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions I am unqualified to make, and if so, I apologize.  But Jesus Christ washed the feet of a prostitute and said he who has not sinned may cast the first stone.  I may not "glorify" every statement made in the bible, but I hold that one to be pretty damn true.  Jesus wasn't a hurt, angry, bitter man walking around spreading hurt and negative bullshit.  He was a healer, he was personally healed by the love of his father God (so internally/emotionally healed that he physically was able to give up the greatest sacrifice imaginable).  Jesus healed those who needed help and guidance, not through fire and force, but through love and empathy.

If you want to be sick, you will be.  If you want to be healthy, you will be.  Sure, it takes a little more time and consistency to "get healthy" but that's only because this world is so sick.

Rise above the ills of our life time.  

Observe the power your words- the language you use in your head and out of your mouth is shaping the life you create for yourself.  Be intentional with your words.  (Instead of "I'll never be able to do [x]" say "I acknowledge my inability to get there at this moment, but with patience and consistency I know I have what it takes to do [x]".--Even if you're wrong, at least you'll be less of a pessimistic shit head right? ;)---)

God did not give you a heart beat and a voice so that you could wall yourself up in isolation and tell yourself how bad you suck.  You were given the gift of life to share life, not die faster.  

I LOVE you all :)  even you little pessimistic shit heads, we're all in this together.  I hope no one takes this way out of context.  I am not trying to make people marginalize around differences, but rather Embrace the Yin & the Yang. We are all doing the best we can.  :)

Embrace your divinity, don't deny it.     #namaste



For anyone who is interested in reading further into the brain's ability to cope, I recommend the following article-

It's not all superstition and sanskrit, there is science out there to support the Yoking of Mind/Body/Spirit which we call Yoga & Meditation.  (Yoga moves us out of body consciousness into awareness necessary for a healthy meditation practice.)


http://news.harvard.edu/gazette/story/2012/11/meditations-positive-residual-effects/

The Present, A Gift

(found this in a hidden place in my email :) from 7/30/2012)

I used to walk outside in a trance,
Mindlessly raising my hand above my eyes.
I'd ask the sun with a burn of resent,
Why it had to shine so bright?

I never took the time to see,
The life that was actually developing around me,
With cuffed wrists and a blindfold of Guilt,
I allowed my self to be imprisoned by Me. 

Strangled  by chains of Expectation,
Allowing others to orchestrate My motivations,
It's a miracle I broke the Iron Grip of Fear,
That So desperately attached me to hesitation. . .

My mind's jail break is just a reminder,
An incentive  for self-reflecting,
A Moment to come back down to earth,
And forget what is worth Forgetting.

With my eyes finally wide to what matters,
And a newly designed path all my own.
Leaping off the plank of everyone else's idea of Right,
Sinking head first into the ocean alone...

To my greatest surprise,
And unexpected jubilation.
I was carried to shore by waves of clarity,
My heart's tide shifted in motivation.

There is no necessity in regret,
Even the times I wish I could, but Can Never forget.
I wouldn't trade a single mistake,
For the compassion & empathy my mishaps led me to get.

The escape from my own anxious darkness,
Has afforded me the ability to welcome the light;
Releasing the Fist of unnecessary judgment,
Facilitating a recapture of My Own Right.

I would give every possession I own and more,
To spread this peace within.
Awaken another soul to what we too often miss out on,
Spread this gift of enlightenment to a friend.

The freedom of living in The Moment,
Is worth a trillion at the Very least.
As is the Acceptance of The Present,
which gives judgement and pressure the chance to Cease. 

Letting go of all plans,
And Understanding that right now is really all we've got,
Being present is the most precious Gift in this world,
one that could never be wrapped in a box.

Give yourself what you deserve,
and begin to try and see,
Right here and Right now,
is ALL you will ever REALLY need.

Lovingly detach from yesterday, 
Let go of fear of what tomorrow may bring.
Live to experience all This Moment has to offer,
Be generous with love and when necessary, let it be. 

A Repressor's Prayer

One day this past fall, I was riding in the car with my friend from school.  We were taking a break from studying, driving to get a coffee or maybe just driving to get away, conversing about random pieces of the law we were learning and life.  Blame it on an attention disorder, but sometimes I start saying something and the next thing I know I’ve gone so far off of the initial track that I have no clue how to get back.  This was one of those conversations. 

I’m not sure where it started, but I know the cluster of sentences that came out of my mouth ended with real tears streaming down my face at an alarming rate, my voice shaking and cracking, and my dear friend having no idea what the fu*k had just happened.  The last thing I remember saying before drying it up and pulling myself together, “I just wish I knew which memories really belonged to me, I just want to remember”.  I didn’t have a clue that day what was going on, which is funny now looking back, because I have been through this many times before. 

I didn’t know this until today, but apparently there is some controversy surrounding rather or not “repressed” memories are scientifically provable.  I can see where this paradox has derived from.  Psychoanalysts going in with a notepad full of loaded questions, essentially leading patients to conclusions about their “repressed memory”.  I’m a skeptic.  I get it. 

I’ve only been to one therapist that I enjoyed enough to stick with for more than one visit, and it was immediately following my divorce.  Needless to say, we had plenty of shit to deal with, WITHOUT ever needing to dive into my ability to repress.  That was also three years ago, so unfortunately for skeptics of repression, I’m pretty sure I haven’t been led by someone else’s bias to reach my conclusion. 

A repressed memory is simply a memory that has been “blocked” in order to avoid stress or trauma.  I think I first became aware of the term “repressed” during counseling as a teen, but it didn’t sink in much what it actually meant or how the concept would play a role in my life.  All I knew, at that time, was that I couldn’t really remember much of my childhood.  To this day, I look back at yearbooks from elementary school and it’s like I’m reading about someone else’s life.  I can only remember one person, specifically, from elementary school, Ms. Duke.  She spent a lot of one-on-one time with me in first or second grade, making sure I made it all the way to 100 AR points (.5 at a time with Berenstain Bears books).  She was small, friendly, and had hair that looked like gold.  By the time I moved in with my father I was a master-represser.  I didn’t know it at the time, I was 8 years old, but I had successfully blocked out a good majority of the years prior to then.

Fast forward to my conversation with my friend in the car last fall.  That day, in my emotional state, I figured my stress must have been coming from something from the earliest years of my childhood.  I was frustrated.  I’ve dealt with that shit, plenty of times.  Why would it be coming back up?   I tried to let it go, move on, but something kept tugging at the back of my mind. 

One of the most beautiful things about a yoga practice is meditation.  Not the goofy-humming-fingers in weird shapes above your head meditation- just stillness.  For me personally, meditation occurs all the time; Sometimes when I’m walking, sometimes when I am listening to a song that makes me feel emotionally drawn in, and sometimes while I’m doing mundane things, like showering or fixing my hair.  When I ‘meditate’ I focus on being quiet in my brain.  Listening to what is happening around me, or feeling the temperature of the air that I’m enveloped by.  I try to clear my mind and create almost a dull humming behind my eyelids.  From this humming, calming place of breathing I then simply try to relax.  Sometimes meditating is just relaxing, no epiphanies, no signs from God, no break-throughs. But occasionally something incredible happens. 

After my melt down last fall I began focusing my meditative energy towards letting go of my fear and allowing forgiveness to come into my heart.  To my surprise, it wasn’t my “childhood” that was bringing me so much anxiety.  Sure, the fact that I was able to repress, with such an astounding accuracy, is most certainly symptomatic of being a kid who had to do so all the time, in order to be okay with the world.  But the real “thing” that was haunting me happened to be something that happened when I was a teen.  Something that has taken me almost 9 years to face and accept. 

Fortunately, my life and my yoga practice have led me to a place where I truly do love myself enough, to NOT take shit too personally.  Bad things happen to people all the time, and I may be a unique snowflake but I’m still just a piece of the snowstorm.  I know that people do mean and hurtful things to one another for a plethora of reasons, but mostly they all boil down to fear and pleasure, not an evil spirit. 

I know I can forgive.  But can I forget how to repress? 

I’ve come to terms with the fact that I don’t remember a lot of being a tiny person, and that’s fine.  And now I’m coming to terms with the fact that there is a chunk of adolescence that I have blocked out, and that’s fine too.  But, how do I come to terms with the fact that there is an invisible hand that shields my eyes and mind anytime something bad happens?  How do I teach myself to face and forgive rather than repress and forget? 

Does it all come back to forgiveness?  They (the experts) say repressors carry around a lot of guilt, not for who they are but for what has (or has not) happened to them.  This guilt, stemming from past trauma, affects present situations without the repressors knowledge of association (the invisible hand).  Disassociation of feelings from their origin leads to interferences in present relationships, both with the self and the surrounding world. 

So how do you prevent the repression & the disassociation?  How do I keep the past in the past if I can’t even remember it?  How am I supposed to associate guilt with its origin if it takes 9 years to face the origin? 

I guess forgiveness.  That’s all I can think to do, is forgive.  And when I run out of energy, I guess I’ll rest and then start forgiving some more.  I’ll forgive those from the past; I’ll forgive myself for repressing the past and allowing it to play such a hidden, destructive role in my life; and in the face of future stress and trauma I pray to God that my heart can immediately forgive so that my mind wont forget.  

Please, please, please, God just let me remember.  I can handle it.  Please.  

Dear Cosmopolitan, Seventeen, Vogue, People, and all the like

   


I grew up believing what the trash magazines told me about my body, that it would fit into a category: pear, hour glass, straight, voluptuous, stringy etc.  I assumed that my "category" or label would be fixed and stagnant.  While I suppose I have always had the good fortune of being slender, I never thought I could have a pear-shape or hour glass figure, not at least without purchasing plastic parts. 

As a pre-teen I found myself the perpetrator of jealousy and envy when the girls around me started blossoming into their curves, while I on the other hand managed to stay slim, get even taller, and somehow have stretch marks despite my lack of "lady lumps".  I can honestly say that my relationship with my body was not healthy as a teenager and young adult.  I assumed that "skinny" was all I really had and even more dangerously assumed that the only way I could possibly love myself more was if I was a smaller version, which led to bad eating habits and even worse issues of self worth (something about "loving yourself" goes out the window when you start thinking the only way you can be "good" is if there is less of you). 

Fortunately, teaching yoga has taught me two spectacular things.  First and foremost, every shape is perfect and 40 years from now if you're still alive and kicking you'll look back to however you are today and wonder where the "perfect" body you once had went (don’t believe me, ask your Grandma).  When people are new to my classes they probably don't realize that I choose to be in a sports bra most of the time, not because I really care about how I look, but because one of my first teachers in a hot vinyasa class came in every day with her bountiful curves in nothing but a sports bra and yoga pants. 

The first time I saw her body my young, very well trained, judgmental mind started to do what I did daily to my own body- analyze it, pick it apart, judge, critique... but then something happened.  Maybe it was all the "hippy talk" of yoga that made me stop looking at Her as a "body" and start recognizing that she was completely stunning, imperfections and all because she was a perfectly-imperfect human being.  Her stretch marks made mine a trait, not deserving of shame, but deserving of recognition.  Her slight skin bulging from the top of her pants made it okay that I had a little bit of love handles left over from never actually giving my self a chance to be muscular. 

So now when I'm teaching, aside form the visual pros of being able to demo bandha locks, I choose to teach my 100 degree class in a sports bra.  EVEN if I am feeling like total tubby, and trust me there are plenty of days I do, I will throw on a crop top and get out the door because I'm not confident to show off my temporary human condition of having a body, I'm confident with myself to help the other young (and maybe old) women around me feel comfortable with who they are.  To teach them it’s Okay to be comfortable and happy in your own skin.

the second thing I learned that was just as exciting as the first thing: WOMEN ARE NOT FRUIT THAT NEED TO BE CATEGORIZED.  We are effing goddesses who control our own divine destiny and if you really want to be pear shaped there ARE enough squats and clean foods out there to help that booty "blossom".  If you're like me, a skinny girl (once even referred to as a "skinny-fat girl" because I wasn't curvy but I was still soft lol) YOU CAN GET CURVES!

So here's my tip for you ANYONE who wants more of a “hour glass shape”-HEART OPENERS, HEART OPENERS, HEART OPENERS.  This version of a backbend is great for heart opening and also allows you to grow through your solar plexus chakra (the place where we keep our self confidence) improving your overall posture.  Side effects: smaller waist, longer-lengthier side bodies which can sometimes eliminate that bulging over we experience in yoga pants, especially Canadian yoga pants made by a man who needs to stop subliminally mind-humping us with Rand Indoctrination, and OVERALL a more open, confident approach to your yoga practice and your life.

as for EVERYONE, I pray you allow yourself to be confident.  If not for YOU to begin with, for others, for the people who look up to you, the brighter you allow your light to shine the more of an invitation you give to the people around you to shine as well.  So own your own skin, freaking revel in it, because you are PERFECT whether you are skin-and-bones or a little-round-dumpling.  This “human condition” of having a body is temporary, the side effects of recognizing our SOUL has eternal worth, and the worth of the souls around us, that shit is divine.  Move towards the light  xo Namaste