5 Year Anniversary

Dear BFY Students,

This week quietly marked the 5 year anniversary of my yoga studio. 9 years of teaching, almost 30 years of practicing, and my overwhelming thought is that none of what I do is about me. It is about you, what you give and the community you create. That is an odd conclusion for someone who savors the privacy of her home practice. But I realize how much I need you all; to see your faces and remind me who I am and that I am serving my highest purpose. Your vulnerabilities and willingness to share your stories are the mirrors that reflect the space I hold for you. You also do this for yourselves. With each posture, and each encounter with your bodies, you bravely sew the thread between thought, sensation and emotion. Holding space requires raw reality and radical acceptance. There is no room for “what do others expect of me”, egos or hiding behind our protective shields of perfection. When we connect with our own reality, we connect with the Universal Source. Our wounds heal faster when we expose them to each other’s Light.

I recently read a twisted definition of the word alchemist – an imperfect, beautiful being who instinctively uses his or her pain to create something exquisite. I would add that pain can be a part of what creates community. It is in touching vulnerabilities and hardships, yours and mine, that our commonalities exist. In a good way, I see myself as pandora’s box, filled with the grief and troubled secrets of all my students. The box always stays shut wrapped in prayer and hope, but sometimes I wish it could open so you could see each other through my lens. Then you would know how magnificently strong and courageous you all are. Scars and all.

Thank you for being alchemists with me and beaming your own unique beauty. Keep supporting one another, shifting and raising the vibration.

Love and Light,

Megan


Everything Is Waiting for You

Your greatest mistake is to act the drama as if you were alone. As if life were a progressive and cunning crime with no witness to the tiny hidden transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny the intimacy of your surrounding. Surely, even you, at times, have felt the grand array; the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding out your solo voice. You must note the way the soap dish enables you, or the window latch grants you freedom. Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity. The stairs are you mentor of things to come, the doors have always been there to frighten you and invite you, and the tiny speaker in the phone is your dream-ladder to divinity.

Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into the conversation. The kettle is singing even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots have left their arrogant aloofness and seen the good in you at last. All the birds and creatures of the world are unutterably themselves. Everything is waiting for you. – David Whyte

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