Making Peace with Pain

Chronic pain is relentless; its presence wears one down, steals hope, and reduce's one's life to a constant struggle with pain. Chronic pain is one of the major reasons for suicide, and for diminishment of life's enjoyment. Pain makes our bodies seem like traitors, enemies who bring us unwelcome burdens. We want nothing more than relief from the pain; for it to just abate a little, if not go away entirely.

It is natural to want to run from pain, to pull away from it. Yet in running, we abandon our bodies to the pain, leave them basically unpopulated, ghost towns where pain alone rules. We draw away from ourselves, from our most intimate places - our bodies. Yet when we do this, we let pain rule us. Pain is in command, and we merely respond to it, however feebly or ineffectively we do. We become a slave to pain, encompassed in it, defined by it, consumed by it.

In order to break free of pain's grip, we must first begin to face it. We must do what seems counterintuitive; instead of running from the pain, we must turn to face it, head-on. We begin by observing the pain, defining it. Is it hot or cold, sharp or dull? Where exactly is it? We develop a sense of curiosity about it; how far can I move my arm with this pain? Can I move it this way? How about that way? Did the pain kill me, or did I survive?

Then we accept it for the temporary reality it is. We were not always in pain, and we will not always be in pain (although it may seem so at the time). Thus, it is temporary and can be seen as such. Pain can be a great teacher, teaching us about ourselves and how we deal with challenges and perceived limitations. By changing our attitudes about pain, we can change its nature. It is no longer an unwelcome guest or the dictator of our lives, but merely a group of sensations (intense and unpleasant perhaps, but still just sensations). The pain need not be our master; it is instead intended as our servant, to warn us of conditions in our bodies, to warn us to be careful in use of damaged body parts, to remind us to take time to heal or to get help in healing. Pain is a messenger - we may hate the message, but do not need to mistake it for the messenger.

We can put pain in perspective, in its proper place, simply by seeing it more clearly. The sensations we experience may be just as strong and the pain just as intense, but now we are in control, instead of allowing the pain to control us. We choose whether to move a limb (and experience the pain that may accompany that action), instead of letting the pain eliminate our choice, prevent us from moving as we wish in order to avoid more pain.

Of course, traumatic pain is intended to warn is of bodily damage, and we should pull away and avoid it if possible. Chronic pain however is a different story; it is always present and does not indicate any new damage is being done. It was liberating for me the first time my doctor told me I could return to the gym if I could tolerate the pain. The idea that the pain didn't really mean anything was key; it became simply a sensation that I could either tolerate or not. I tried to make a game of it, to see how much of it I could tolerate, how much I could ignore, and how much I simply had to accept (all of it).

The idea that the pain would be my constant companion was at first depressing and a source for more pain and anguish. Yet once I accepted the idea, I decided that if the pain was going to be my constant companion, I was going to make friends with it, get comfortable with it. Paradoxically, once I accepted the pain its grip on me loosened. It was still there, but not as an ominous beast waiting to devour me. It was just there, like my foot or the sky or taxes. I could bemoan the fact, fight against it and deny it with all my heart, but it would still be there. Instead, I chose to get to know it, extend a (perhaps grudging) welcome if it was going to be part of my life.

So now my pain is always there. I choose to pay as little attention and energy to it as I can. Sometimes it is insistent; undeniable. In those times I simply breathe and endure. Other times it is less insistent and I can engage in 'normal' activities. If I am lucky, I can forget it for a minute. But I never try to run from it or deny it. Accepting it is the only way to defuse it, to put it into proper persepctive. Sometimes that is enough.


AUM, Shanti, Shanti, Shantihi

All That's Required Is...

I have often read that all that is required for yoga is the ability to breathe. While breath is important to yoga and life (critical, in fact), it is not a pre-requisite to a yoga practice. The ability to breathe on one's own is a wonderful gift, but is not essential to yoga. What is essential is the desire to change and the ability to BE PRESENT. Many people cannot breathe on their own (requiring ventilators, oxygen masks, etc.), but none are excluded from yoga.

I had a student the other day who had an oxygen tank with a nostril inhaler to help him breathe. He did not feel able to breathe on his own, and was effectively tied to his oxygen. No matter - he was open to learning and growth (although over sixty), and was able to stay present for the sensations in his body, the thoughts in his mind, and the feelings in his heart. That is all that's required.

As our class did some easy breath awareness exercises, we talked about yoga, and what it could mean to us. We didn't force anything, just watched our breath go in an out with a sense of gratitude. After the class, this student came up to me with a smile on his face (and a look of mild amazement). He advised me that halfway through the class, his oxygen tank had run out ... and that he hadn't even noticed it (in an adverse way). The look of freedom on his face, of possibilities in the wing was uplifting. What had once been a anchor around his neck, a device he had depended on for his life had taken on a new perspective.

While he wasn't about to throw his oxygen away, he realized that he was not slave to it, but instead it (the oxygen) was a servant to him. He realized that he could indeed breathe, with mindfulness and gratitude (and for short periods) without his tank. The look in his eyes was that of a young eagle who was ready to fly from the nest. His not-young face was lit with the light of possibility, and it brought a tear to my eyes. He was grounded in reality, realizing that he now felt its absence and did indeed count on the oxygen to improve the quality of his life and health. But he was also simultaneously lifted up on wings of freedom, making contact with the young man in his past who didn't need extra oxygen, and with the person in his future to whom it would be a mere memory.

The light in his eyes as he practiced was inspirational to me, and the light afterwards lit my soul. This simple, nice man (a Vietnam veteran) had taught me a lot about yoga. His classmates also taught me a lot about it; coming to face a new possibility, a new challenge with nothing but their limitations, aches, and pains ... and courage. For it requires a huge amount of courage to even show up for yoga class. If you are older, out of shape, and challenged physically or mentally, the effort is elevated to one of heroic proportions.

In that beautiful afterglow that follows class, we all shared something wonderful; the brotherhood of those who have shared challenges and met them with nobility and bravery. Usually, this type of brotherhood is reserved for those in combat or other life-threatening situations, thrown closely together in a sea of chaos. This sense of brotherhood, of comradeship, of shared happiness and sorrow is what many veterans miss about the service (while simulataneously hating many other things). We had somehow tapped into that brotherhood without guns or bombs, blood, sweat, or tears.

We had done what many combat veterans are forced to do; approach the crucible of change with nothing but the shirts on our backs and hope in our hearts ... and the help and support of our brothers. We had gone to that special place for a moment, without guns or bullets, without anger or rage. It had been healing to all of us, and I had learned as much as I taught.

For this highlights one of the main lessons of life and yoga that I have learned and re-learned over time; that enlightenment cannot be obtained alone, and that we ascend together, rise with the helping hands of our brothers and sisters. Only in helping and in being helped do we complete the harmony of life, make its beautiful song manifest. Only in togetherness do we find heaven, here on Earth or elsewhere, for a heaven in which one is alone is Hell.

These brave men; young and old, soldiers and sailors, airmen and Marines. The true battles they fight are within, as they learn and grow and transcend their limitations (or their sense of limitation). While they may have formerly exhibited bravery in the service of their country, the bravery, courage and nobility they exhibit now in the service of a Higher Self and others is awe-inspiring. They prove that yoga is accessible to all, regardless of age or physical condition. They show the incredible transformative power of yoga in the simple things; the ability to be breathe for a moment without oxygen, to accept pain and limitations without accepting self-diminishment, to find honor in their simple actions of growth and change.

I am so blessed to be around students like this; I am not worthy but will nevertheless strive to be. For these are the type of students who I want the Divine to send to me; not those affluent ones in new Audis and nice bodies, but the broken, the hopeless, the forlorn. I want those in pain, in sorrow, and in suffering, for I am their brother in this. Together we will ascend beyond these illusory limitations and challenges. I want those who think they are too old or too fat, or too out of shape to practice yoga. I want those who think they are too 'bad' or angry or messed-up to have a yoga practice. I want to help guide them there, to help them see that if anything, yoga is for US; the broken and the hurt, the regular and the human. Yoga is for all. It is a gift. There is only one yoga - all apparent branches or types or divisions are merely surface phenomena, not changing the essential basis, the core from which yoga's power originates and operates.

Thank God for yoga. Thank God for students like Ed (we'll call him Ed for privacy's sake). Thank God for the chance for all of us to grow and change and learn, to help and laugh and love. Thank God ... or if you will, thank the Infinite Radiant IS.


AUM, Shanti, Shanti, Shantihi

Four Simple Truths of Nowism

Part of the Nowism Primer, from a Facebook post in 2010...

Four Simple Truths of Nowism

by Mark Mullen on Sunday, February 7, 2010 at 10:27am

Four Simple Truths of Nowism

…as told by the Multiverse

1) We exist (and act) only in the Eternal Now
     a) No one truly knows what the future (and thus what ‘the afterlife’) holds
     b) Thus, all belief systems based on a projected afterlife (or lives) are equally valid (or invalid)
     c) Therefore, all deserve the same respect, consideration…and skepticism
     d) If God or the Divine is to be manifest, it can only be in the Now

2) The universe is what it IS; not how we want it to be or think it is
     a) If we expect the world to be other than what it is, we set ourselves up for disappointment & suffering
     b) We cannot control the thoughts and actions of others: only of ourselves
     c) Our true freedom consists not in the ability to perform unfettered actions, but in how we respond to the   

         world via our conscious choice of attitude (and if possible, action)
     d) If our intentions and actions are in harmony with what IS (and thus with what is possible), we exist fully 

         in the Now 

3) Only by concrete actions in the Now can we manifest love & goodwill towards ourselves and others
     a) Words and attitudes do not feed the hungry or cure the sick, they are only soil from which the seeds of 

          action spring 

     b) We cannot act without also choosing a concrete reaction (its attendant results)
     c) Love is a verb, consisting of concrete, loving actions
     d) The highest values, morals, and thoughts are useless unless they result in positive actions

4) None can know the reality of another
     a) Thus, none can truly know another, or save another, or act for another, or do another’s work
     b) Thus, none can justly judge or evaluate another: people cannot be compared like objects
     c) There are as many paths to God/the Divine/Enlightenment as there are people
     d) While all subjective realities differ (and the world thus appears illusory), only the IS exists: here & Now

Considerations in Phantom Limb Pain Care

Typically, pain experienced by an amputee in the amputated limb(s) is called 'phantom limb' pain. It is most commonly viewed as an epiphenomenon or by-product of the brain's operations, or as an 'incorrect' operation of the brain. The amputee is told by caregivers that the pain he or she experiences is not 'real,' that it is merely a 'trick' of the brain, a psychosomatic disorder or sorts. Psychological (and medical) caregivers stress the need to accept that the limb is 'gone,' and that the pain and sensation the patient experiences is somehow false.

Yet the patient feels a limb, experiences something quite real, in spite of what an endless series of doctors and therapists, psychiatrists and bodyworkers might say. Who is to be believed? Obviously, a physical limb is not present; it cannot be counted on to perform work in the physical world. Yet just as obviously, the limb is present in the energetic and experiential worlds, the worlds where we primarily live.

Up to now, most care has ignored the patient's experiences, sensations, pain, and calls for help. They have tried to convince him (or her) that what they feel is wrong, and that with time (and plenty of expensive therapy) it will eventually (hopefully) go away. No direct care is given to the missing appendage (or phantom limb- a term that reduces it to an ephemeral mist of the imagination), instead it is focused on getting the brain to think and feel what it does not, and focusing attention and care on the 'remaining' limbs, while pointedly ignoring signals and sensations from the 'missing' one.

This is a natural result of a paradigm of pseudo-empiricism; pseudo because it is not based on true empirical knowledge throughout the range of possibly verifiable perception, but limited only to what can be seen or directly measured. Thus, since the limb cannot be seen, it is not there. This matches well with the western medical view of the body, which sees the body as merely a physical machine (of incredible complexity, but still a mere physical entity performing merely physical functions). This view does not explain the well-known phenomenon of sensation in missing limbs, except perhaps with vague guesses at possibly malfunctioning nervous system or brain.

The Ayurvedic concept of the body (much older than that of western medicine, which is relatively new) easily explains these phenomena; the body is more than merely a physical envelope. It (the physical body that western medicine insists is the only one) coexists simultaneously with an energetic body. When the physical limb is amputated, the energetic body is unharmed, and remains complete. At the interface between the physical and energetic bodies (the consciousness), the presence of the energetic limb is still experienced, even though the physical limb may appear to be 'missing.'

The incongruence between the physical and energetic bodies can be felt as sensations ranging from mild tingling to severe pain. The pain originates from the energetic body, which while undamaged, has disrupted flows of energy, which the brain (and consciousness; two separate things) interpret as pain. The solution is not to ignore the pain, or try to convince the patient that the pain does not really exist, or that it is merely a trick of the brain; it is to treat the symptoms the patient brings to us, not only on the superficial level, but at the root cause of the symptoms. This cannot be accomplished with a limited understanding of the human body, one which ignores obvious realities, or tries to explain them away as epiphenomena or not yet understood functions (or malfunctions) of the brain and nervous system.

Thus, I would suggest that healing of phantom limb pain starts first with an acknowledgement of its reality, both to the patient and medically, in the energetic body. This validation of what the patient experiences as reality can be immensely healing in itself, when the patient is simply being understood and not doubted or seen as someone suffering from a 'condition.'

The next step in care does not come from outside, but from within the patient, as they come to terms with the reality of the missing physical limb and the presence of the energetic limb. As they learn gentle acceptance, they can begin to send good thoughts, energy, and intentions to the limb. This healing intent and response needs to be sent there just like we send it elsewhere in our bodies when we are sick or hurt.

Eventually (once the patient has resolved the apparent incongruity and it has been determined by their psychiatric care professionals that the imagery will not be counterproductive), the patient can begin to cradle the missing limb, stroking it and holding it close just like they would for a wounded physical limb. This helps resolve the incongruity within the brain and also within the perception, and focuses healing intent on the limb.

Once the patient has mourned and accepted the loss of the physical limb, and once they have accepted with gratitude the presence of the energetic limb, they can begin to exercise it, to regain control over it. By moving the limb with mindful intention and clear visualization, they can begin to move energy through the energetic limb, eventually restoring the disrupted energy flow channels.

The combination of awareness of the energetic limb, focusing of healing intent and mindful control of the limb add synergistically to effect a restoral of energetic function and relief of 'phantom' pain. For like all phantoms, with observation in the clear light of perception, they melt away. As the patient's caregiver team becomes more aware of the existence of the energetic body and its implications in healing, they can begin to address the issue head-on, as a synchronized team.

Bodyworkers can perform work on the 'missing' limb, doctors can educate the patient about it and treat it (as nearly as possible) as they would a 'real' limb. Yoga instructors can cue the patient to use the missing limb energetically and intentionally, and physical therapists can use the visualization of a concerted action by existing physical and energetic bodies to improve performance (and healing) on the physical level. Most importantly, the patients can become part of a therapeutic alliance, between the caregivers and themselves, and aimed at the healing, recovery and integration of the entire body, not just the one that can be seen in the examination room.


AUM, Shanti, Shanti, Shantihi

In the Presence of the Lord

I experience dualism in my psoas, my piriformis, and of course, in my heart and soul. I try to be on guard for its insidious entry into my thoughts, for it is ubiquitous, unavoidable it seems. I'll be cruising along in perfect harmony with the universe, seeing everyone as a person I could be if not for a few slight details and then...ba-zinga! I'm having a thought about how that person is somehow separate from me, as my mind and ego struggle to fit them into the round hole of a pre-conceived notion, to categorize them or analyze them, or compare...to distill them down into a tidy little image I can have of them, a simple word I can evoke to describe them.

In doing this (or allowing myself to respond to my ego's attempts to influence me to do it), I unwittingly (and unwillingly) objectify the person, try to make them small enough to fit into my mind. That is a terrible disservice, since a person (any person) is an incredibly unique, special, and powerful being whose total essence and glory cannot be fully perceived without spiritual sunglasses. To gaze directly at a shining soul (or even a flickering aura) is like gazing at the sun.

So while we must to some degree simplify our perceptions of each other (lest we become overwhelmed, like two young lovers first discovering each other), we must be aware the person beheld is much more than our conceptual models of them. If we are to place them in convenient categories, let's be sure we place them in categories that honor them, not limit them. If we are to dilute their essence in order to behold them, lets' be sure we concentrate on the good, not the bad in the process.

Regardless of my theoretical knowledge of those facts, there I eventually am, in literal and physical pain that resulted almost directly from dualistic thoughts, perceptions, or paradigms. I feel the error of this not only in theoretical or philosophical terms, but in my kidneys as well. Since I have begun to deepen my yoga practice over these past few years, my body and mind have become much more sensitive to disharmony, and respond to anger and aggression like they do to toxins; they cause an ache in both my heart and body.

So I guard my thoughts, tune my spirit, seek to see one in all and all in one... until next time that I find myself out behind the barn, a big clump of dualism in hand. Then I just remember that dualism is what brought us wars and pogroms, pillage and rapine, hatred and anger throughout history. The insane idea that the problem is somehow outside ourselves, blamable on another...that there even is an Other.

I deviate less and less this way, and feel our commonality more and more. The other day while pedaling through the spring sunshine (yay!), I grokked us all as being individual blades of grass in a field, or leaves on a tree; ostensibly distinct and separate, but undeniably connected and part of a whole. I've been getting this strong feeling of connection, hearing the minds turn and the lives churn, all waving and undulating together in the winds of change, like leaves in the breeze since I was a child. It is now becoming exponentially more frequent.

I love that.

Thou art God
All that groks is God

Sat Nam

AUM, Shanti, Shanti, Shantihi


"iamheasyouareheasyouaremeandwearealltogether"
            -John Lennon (and the rest of the Beatles) 

Our Sacred Trust

As caregivers (and I include yoga instructors in this group), we are bestowed with a sacred trust; the well-being and care of our students. Nothing could be more important, especially for yoga instructors, for we are entrusted with the physical, mental, and spiritual well-being of our students. When we hear of instructors (or other caregivers in positions of trust) abusing their trust, we are perhaps shocked, and certainly saddened. Yet as much as we may be tempted to, we know from our own experiences and our yogic learning that we cannot and should not judge others, especially when we are ignorant of the complete facts.

We know as well that we should honor and respect all people. To engage in sexual or romantic relationships with our active students not only disrespects, dishonors, and objectifies our students, but it does the same to our own selves. Even as understandably human as some of the actions may be, they also do harm to the practice of yoga itself (insofar as that is at all possible), which the ignorant may perceive to be reduced by the actions (or mis-actions, to be more accurate) of its adherents.

A good precedent has been set with medical professionals that may be applicable and pertinent to all caregivers: one does not give care (of any type) to those in their immediate family. The closeness and bias have proven to reduce the effectiveness of care. It is understandable that we may be attracted by some of our students, and may even judge it acceptable to enter into an intimate relationship with them. Yet that is the point that we must recognize that our relationship has evolved beyond that of student-teacher, and it is no longer appropriate to attempt to hold onto such a relationship. To do otherwise is to risk dishonoring ourselves, others, and our practices. We then refer our new loved ones to other caregivers that can provide more objective care.

If love, honor, and respect guide our actions, they will not result in disrespect. If we act in a fashion that we would be proud of no matter who was watching us, then we will most likely avoid troubles. Yet when others cannot avoid troubles, or act in ways that seem to us less than honorable, we must remember that we have not been in their position and thus cannot judge, nor is it our position to judge others. We can and should set high standards of personal performance and excellence for ourselves, and hope that others might adopt them through the consistent actions of their lives, but we must refrain from forcing them on others. They can only be adopted freely, and those who fail to live up to their self-imposed standards should answer not to individuals, but to duly entrusted standards bodies or ethical review boards, just as ‘professional’ and traditional caregivers do.

While being judged by the (usually uninformed) court of public opinion may be unavoidable, we as individuals can avoid contributing to it, extending instead the benefit of the doubt, or at least the compassion for a fellow human who has proven to be as fallible as we are. As to guidance for teachers who find themselves in questionable circumstances, the solution is easy:

             -Ask ourselves who we are, or remember who we are

             -Remind ourselves that yoga is about union and integration

              -Remind ourselves that we teach what we live, not what we say

-Ask ourselves if our actions will contribute to increased harmony, togetherness, and integration, as befitting a caregiver and yoga instructor

-If we discover that our contemplated actions might contribute to separation, alienation, require lies and deceit (or cannot stand the light of public view), then we should understand that these actions do not reflect our true selves, and act accordingly.

This is a personal process, one that cannot be evaluated after the fact by others. Only the person involved can decide and choose, exercising an act of will that will result in actions that (in part, at least) defines them (as the old sayings go: ‘by their actions ye shall know them’ and ‘handsome is as handsome does’). If we feel the urge to judge another, perhaps we could follow some simple steps as well:

             -Ask ourselves who we are, or remember who we are

             -Remind ourselves that yoga is about union and integration

              -Remind ourselves that we teach what we live, not what we say

-Ask ourselves if our actions will contribute to increased harmony, togetherness, and integration, as befitting a caregiver and yoga instructor

-If we discover that our contemplated actions might contribute to separation, alienation, require lies and deceit (or cannot stand the light of public view), then we should understand that these actions do not reflect our true selves, and act accordingly.

We might also remind ourselves that our capacity as people and caregivers is not to judge, but to forgive; not to sentence, but to set free.  We might remind ourselves that we are off duty, maybe were never on duty in the first place. Let someone else do the judging and instead spend the energy on improving ourselves.

Just a thought…

I dunno, who am I to say? I’m just another fallible human being.  I’ll let you (or others) decide.

AUM, Shanti, Shanti, Shantihiii

“You can’t talk to a man with a shotgun in his hand…”

             -Carole King/Smackwater Jack

Kundalini and I

Kundalini yoga is not a practice that resonates with everyone; it is not the traditional yoga practice one would expect. Its rituals and observances are much different than traditional (Samkhya-based) yoga, and the physical practice is almost non-existent. Alone, it may seem to be a branch of yoga one would not care to explore. Yet when seen as a petal on the flower of yoga, it can augment existing and more traditional practices.

Kundalini is more mystical than it is practical. Based on Sikh tradition, it differs in concept and implementation from Ashtanga yoga. Kundalini seeks to raise the prakriti, the essence of Life from the base of our spines. Some say we raise the Kundalini to rise and meet the Pranic life energy outside us, while some envision us as drawing the Divine energy down to meet the Kundalini energy. Either way, the Shakti energy internal to us meets with the Shiva energy external to us, the Divine meets the human, the animal nature synchronizes with the higher nature.

Like yoga, people come only when they are ready. Unlike yoga, raising the Kundalini before you are ready can be dangerous. Gopi Krishna describes this in some of his fascinating but scary books. The closest parallel in traditional yoga is the admonition in the Hatha Yoga Pradipika (and Yoga Sutras) about misuse of Pranayama (loosely translated as breath control)..."and the practitioner will be destroyed."

Kundalini shakti (energy) is likened to hot lava. Our untrained bodies are like paper cups. Until they are hardened and readied by gradual, regular, and devoted yoga practice, they will be unable to tolerate the rise of Kundalini energy. Thankfully, Kundalini is not easily invoked, commanded, or encouraged to rise. This is the protective nature of life, which will not unleash its power until the recipient is ready. Also, most practitioners sense intuitively if the practice is helpful and the time is right, or not.

The specifics of Kundalini practice seem a bit vague to me; not as intuitive as Hatha regarding what is being worked, or how or why (in both physical and energetic bodies). Yet the comradeship is heartening, as is the tendency to keep our eyes closed and stay in our own spaces, within the boundaries of our mats. I like that many people use furs or soft pillows on their mats. Yet the most moving part of the practice to me is at the end, when instead of the traditional AUM, the practitioners sing the following verse, three times. The first time is an intention for one's self, the second for those closest to you, and the last for all beings in the world. It goes like this:

         May the long-time sun shine upon you and all love surround you
         And the pure light within you guide your way on

One other song from the practice moved me deeply, resonating deep within my soul, as it does every time I hear it. It is an old Sikh song (or kirtan or mantra) originally sung by women to make their men holy or to get a good man (as it was told to me, a story I love). It is called So Purkh and I loved it even before I knew what the words meant. It was written by Ram Das in the 1500s (not the modern day Ram Das, the former professor Alpert and author of the excellent book Be Here Now). You can find both English and Punjabi lyrics on You Tube for free. Sometimes I play it in a track and get in a blissful trance state, feeling as holy and pure as my future companion would want me to be.

So while Kundalini may not be the shortcut to nirvana that some claim, neither is it the demon others claim. Instead, it is yet another petal on the flower of yoga, another branch on the tree of Life. It is neither good nor bad, it simply exists. If it resonates truly within you, join the group and give your all. If it doesn't, keep an open mind and let it be until later. Until then, keep in mind my third favorite thing about Kundalini, the thing that shows it to be part of the One Yoga I hold dear: the saying of greeting or goodbye, the statement of fact that is so similar to the Hindu blessing and truism: Sat Nam (Thine name is Truth). This resonates in me as much as the more traditional yogic greeting of namaste (No Mind Between or, more loosely translated, the Divine within me recognizes, respects, and salutes the Divine within you).

So until then, Sat Nam and may the long-time sun shine upon you and all love surround you and the pure light within you guide your way on.



AUM, Shanti, Shanti, Shantihiii


Post Scriptum:

Some good books on Kundalini (for the curious or those who approach through theory) are: