Process of Illumination

Sankalpa: Setting an Intention

Working with sankalpa changed my life. Okay, this year has been filled to the brim with catalysts and triggers. But I am confident that the work I did for several months with a particular sankalpa affected a series of deep and permanent shifts in the nature of my existence. Sankalpa is not a resolution, but an inspired intention. There's a difference. Sounds heady, but it is really very simple. 

I came across this article today in Yoga International magazine written beautifully by Kelly McGonigal, she teaches yoga, meditation and psychology at Stanford. It's an easy read. I highly recommend both the article and the practice.

It’s natural to identify a desire as “I want” and an intention as “I will” or “I won’t.” But these phrases lack the truth of the commitment that comes from heartfelt desire and connection to one’s dharma. “A sankalpa isn’t a petition or a prayer,” Miller says, “It is a statement of deeply held fact, and a vow that is true in the present moment.”

For this reason, your sankalpa—both the heartfelt desire and the specific intention—should be stated in the present tense. For example, rather than saying, “I want to be more compassionate,” your sankalpa might be, “Compassion is my true nature” or “I am compassion itself.” Rather than setting the intention, “I will not eat meat,” your specific sankalpa might be, “With compassion for my body and for other beings, I eat a vegetarian diet.” Stating your sankalpa in present tense acknowledges the tremendous will, energy, and truth that arrive with the discovery of your heartfelt desire. It also reminds you that whatever is required of you is already within you.

Read the full article here:
Inspired Intention | The Nature of Sankalpa.

Holding the Exhalation

Inhale, and God approaches you. Hold the inhalation, and God remains with you. Exhale, and you approach God. Hold the exhalation, and surrender to God.  —Sri Tiramulai Krishnamacharya

It's the eve of the eve of another new year and I am at once empty and full. This past year has brought so many changes my head is spinning. Finally, I feel my life in motion, and it's distinctly in the forward direction. Typically, I embrace New Year's Eve as an opportunity to celebrate — and by celebrate, I mean do a few shots and dance till I drop. This year...same but different. I will be celebrating joyfully, but I have decided to stay home and be quiet. This has been a huge year for me, bringing a whole new community, career and home. As is inevitably necessary when stepping into newness, I've had to let go of many things. More to the point, I've had to abandon old ways of BEING. 

In reflecting on all that has come and gone this year, I turned to my journal. From August in Rockland County, where I grew up...I had just had a wonderful weekend reuniting with many of the friends with whom I grew up:

Yesterday was a full-on existential crisis. With my companion gone and the weekend with friends past, I was left in a stupor. Exhausted, hungover, caffeine-deprived, untethered in Rockland County. There is that moment at the end of the exhale when there is emptiness, a void, contracted to nothingness. The release feels good, the letting go, the purge. But the chaos on the way out is uncomfortable, the loss painful and the emptiness terrifying. I could see the structure of my life...my children, my community, my parents, my career my friends all standing by. Reduced to a pulpy substance the way New York seems so easily to do to me, I could see them all, but I couldn't reach them. Thoughts of my daughter's imminent arrival helped me coalesce back into a recognizable form. Motherhood will do that for you. I could hardly show up at JFK in my pulpy puddle form. 

And so today I begin the inhale once again. Expansion, regeneration. My old house is gone, and so must be my attachment to it. New selves are waiting for their mother to nurture and grow them.

So here I sit at the conclusion of a momentous year, holding the exhale and doing cartwheels in the space I've created before filling it back up with fresh air.

Inaugural Post

The only thing we have to fear is fear itself. Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country. There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America.

There have been many great words spoken to commemorate the start a new American presidency. Since I don't have a speech writer on staff, I'm on my own in writing this first post on my new blog. In the spirit of being real, which you will learn is of utmost importance to me, I am simply going to say, "Let's do this thing."

And just like that, I have a blog.