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  • Dancing on the Edge of the Unknown

    Dancing on the Edge of the Unknown

    I’ve been in a time of not doing for a while now, and I’ve struggled against it, wanting to do rather than be. During this time I was a presenter at a business retreat that was planned way before I entered this space, and it came together seamlessly. This was confirmation that,

    when I’m working from my strength and my gifts, flow happens and my to do list gets done.

    After the end of my yearlong quest, when I stated that I was done efforting, my body took this proclamation seriously. I’ve felt most like myself these past few weeks sitting in my heart and waiting for inspiration to arise rather than pushing it to arise. That has led to major triggering on all sides, from everywhere. What came out of that was the awareness of a very young part of myself that needed attention. Until now she hasn’t felt safe enough to let me know her needs. It was in the back and forth of surrendering to what I know I needed, slowing down, and being willing to figure it out so I could move past this (whatever this is or was), that she found the space to emerge. I’ve known about her for a long time and every time I’ve noticed her in the past, she retreated. She’s ready for my undivided attention and I’m ready to give it to her. I’m asking her to help me play. I’m letting her know that as a child she’s not responsible for some of the things she’s been trying to take on, like keeping me safe. There was a time when I needed, and she needed, to be kept safe. Now I know how to keep myself safe so she can play.

    I’ve been searching for play in my life for a really long time.

    The kind of play when you lose track of all time, blissful play that was never really a part of my life, maybe on a few occasions, but not on a regular basis. Sometimes I think its ironic that I came to where I am today through my grief journey, that the death of my daughter provided the initiation I needed to fully take a stand for myself. To say yes to stepping fully into who I am in each moment, knowing that I dance on the edge of comfort and discomfort each time I take another step into my self, into my truth, into my aligned heart.

    Sometimes I am dismayed that it took so long to get here. I am 65, how can I still have fun? (I’m sure part of this feeling is from the birthday card my dad gave me when I turned 30. The message said, “You are 30. You will never again have fun.”) I know that was my father’s sense of humor and it wasn’t true. I did, however, think of that message whenever I questioned some of my life’s lessons.

    Yes, my physical age can give me a start sometimes, but I’m not going to let limiting thoughts and beliefs shape my life.

    It’s not always easy to be in a place of being instead of doing, until I surrender to the present moment and listen deeply to my heart. I’m reminded why my business is Being with Grief, not doing grief.

    One of the questions I am asked most often is, do I think I will ever stop grieving. My answer is no. My grief may shift and change; no doubt it will continue to change me; it will never end though because Leah is not here. That also doesn’t mean I won’t feel joy.

    I am joyful, I am grateful, and I am sad, I feel sorrow, I feel pain. I’ve discovered I can feel all of it. One of my biggest discoveries is that when I allow myself to feel the sorrow exactly as it show up,

    It leads me to the sacred ground where joy is also possible.

    I don’t know how it works. I’ve tried to figure it out. My head has analyzed it, sliced and diced it a thousand ways, and I still don’t know how it works. I do know that it does, when I come into my heart with all of my feelings I have a greater capacity for joy, for gratitude, for love.

    Do you feel the same way? I’d love to hear from you.

  • My Grief Journey is Like a Compost Pile

    My Grief Journey is Like a Compost Pile

    My yearlong quest is over.

    I spent my birthday in Minneapolis, reflecting, in gratitude, and connecting with beloved family. We talked a lot about grief, and where our journeys have taken each of us.

    We were all grieving the same person, Leah, and we all had profoundly different experiences. Each of our lives were frozen in the moment she left us physically, and each of us chose to look deeply at our lives and decide if we wanted to figure out how to thaw out that moment and see how it had changed us.

    Grief does that; it changes us.

    For me, some of those changes were evident early on. I knew I couldn’t stay stuck in the never ending days of distraction and diversion, even though I wanted to do just that. Something inside me knew, even then, that I was being called to something greater. I knew that staying stuck would not honor Leah, would not be an example for Peter, and would not give me any chance of staying in relationship with Dan.

    In our conversation last week, I said that

    my grief journey has been like a compost pile,

    and everyone laughed, and then we went on to talk about how it has been just that, for all of us. We each took all of our pain, devastation, suffering, and feelings that we didn’t even know existed and mixed them together with prayers, faith, willingness to not know where we were going, and time.

    Along the way we found grace, blessing, and love.

    We found what we needed to dig deep and do the work that grief illuminated in each of us. From that pile of messy feelings newness began to arise. I began to process my grief with Samyama, present moment awareness, I was called to walk with others on their journey, I wrote my book and companion journal, I was able to heal my childhood wounds on a much deeper level. Healing my wounds allows me to show up in my own life in a fuller way, to embrace my own radiance,

    without needing to diminish my true essence.

    Much like table scraps mixed with water, sunlight, mixing, and time turn into fertile soil to grow next year’s garden, my new life today was nourished by the scraps of my old life combined with blessings and grace. This also dispels the myth that time alone can heal; it’s very much the work that is done during that time. My shoulder is a great example of that. If I had ignored my PT exercises, I would have nowhere near the range of motion I now have 4+ months after surgery.

    This is my piece of the compost pile, Dan and Peter have their own, and those are their stories to tell. Our trajectory as a family is changing too.

    We are planning to build a tiny home in Peter’s backyard

    so we can spend more time with him. As we were discussing all of this I felt a deconstruction of old templates falling away as we made plans for a more connected future together. I’m not sure it would have been possible if we all didn’t say yes to our doing the work necessary to claw our way through the brambles of our journeys. I am grateful beyond measure that we did say yes.

    What I know now is that the unfolding of my heart could not have happened in the way it has without the journey I’ve been through, and continue to go through without Leah’s physical presence.

    The exquisite divine arrangement of what that means is so heartbreaking.

    It is the true essence of the cost of losing Leah.

  • Lessons From My Shoulder Surgery

    Lessons From My Shoulder Surgery

    What did I learn from my down time, while I was recovering from
    shoulder surgery?

    As I reflect on this time, it is clear to me that my surgery and the time
    after was not down time at all. Let me explain.

    Since the beginning of this year I’ve been aware of clarity of language, more precisely, how I use language and how my words influence me.

    The time spent preparing, during, and recovering from my surgery were anything but down time. Yes, I was not participating in the activities that were a part of my daily life before surgery, however, there was plenty going on. Some of this was doing and some of this was not doing.

    In the days and weeks immediately following surgery, I was not doing
    much. I was resting, sleeping, resting, and sleeping. It was my body that was doing the healing, even though I couldn’t see what was going on.
    There were anesthesia drugs to be flushed, bones and skin to be knitted, and muscle to be healed. There were times when I was certain that I
    could hear them all knitting and purling in there.

    There wasn’t much that I could do for myself. I needed help with just about everything. I had an opportunity to re-examine my relationship with giving and receiving and asking for what I needed. I learned more about gratitude, humility, and about my own natural rhythm.
    As I emerged more and more each week, it felt like I wasn’t put together the same way as I was before, that I was cellularly changed. Yes, I now have a bionic shoulder, and
    there are parts of me that are no longer with me, but this felt deeper, like I was more in alignment with my Truth.

    My recovery time was a time of slowing down; I had an opportunity to be with the feelings that surfaced during this time. I’m grateful for the gift of extra time to explore my internal life more deeply. This prescribed time of slowing down was timed nicely during the yearlong quest that I began on my 64th birthday. I wrote these words last year as I made the intention to enter this quest;

    I acknowledge that when I am fully aware and awake in my life that everything that I encounter is in service to my yearlong intention; every experience, every encounter, every insight, everything. Enough time and space will be required to integrate these experiences. I commit fully to this quest. June 13, 2018.

    When I wrote those words, I had no idea that a shoulder replacement would be one of the necessary experiences of this year. Here is some of what I know now, 3+ months after my surgery and 3+ weeks before the end of my yearlong quest on my 65th birthday.

    I long for the luxury of unstructured time, not to wile away the hours with distraction, rather to allow curiosity to lead me to my next adventure or initiation.

    I desire to listen deeply to my innermost heart. It is here that I connect
    with my soul, my intuition, and my inner rhythm.

    I am done with efforting; trying to do something. I now know that efforting isn’t necessary when I’m dancing to my soul’s rhythm and purpose.

    When I listen to my soul’s purpose, it always leads to right action,
    whether in my work, creating sacred space in my home or body, learning, reflecting, or playing.

    These are some of the questions that began arising as I became curious;

    What deeply nourishes me, body, mind, and soul? What brings me
    pleasure and fun? How do I play?

    How can I bring a sense of ease and flow to my work? What do I need
    each day to nurture all parts of me?

    I’m sure there will be more insights in the next three weeks, or maybe
    not. Maybe the next three weeks will be for integrating what has already happened, even those things I know nothing about yet. I do know that
    I feel so much gratitude for this path I am on; for the capacity to live my life unapologetically as me.

    Where is life calling you in this moment?
  • Tales from My Journey

    Tales from My Journey

    When I first started my year-long quest on my 64th birthday I thought I went into it with no expectations. I certainly didn’t expect to discover I needed shoulder replacement surgery. And yet, as I prepared for it, I found out that I held emotional baggage in my shoulder.

    I first thought that releasing the emotions would magically release my shoulder. What I’ve come to realize is that by releasing old emotions that were stuck in my shoulder, I’m giving my new shoulder joint a better chance of working properly.

    As I approach my 65th birthday, sometimes I’m perplexed about being that age.

    It took me some time to get used to having a 6 at the beginning of my age. Leading up to the year-long quest I began a journey to get healthier, not because I was dreading the 6-5 birthday, but because it was time for me to take care of my health in a big way.

    I began working with a functional medicine doctor. There were some major issues going on. Nothing that was critical at the time, but things that could become critical if I didn’t change. One of the things that showed up was adrenal fatigue, and I know now that the adrenal fatigue began in the early days of my grief journey. I tended to a lot of things on my grief journey, but not my health, not in the way I needed to, and my body was feeling the effects. Grief manifests physically, how can it not?

    It took me a year of diligent work, and investigation to begin to finally heal from the physical effects of grief.

    I’m still working on it, but we’ve found the right formula for my body.

    One of the biggest struggles has been consistent sleep, a common symptom of adrenal fatigue. It has taken scrupulous attention to my evening routine, eliminating foods that do not support my body, taking supplements that do, along with meditation, movement, and more. As my sleep improved, my energy returned, and my adrenals began to get stronger. I know that this is a way of life for me, because it is life giving for me. In all of this I’m finding my natural rhythm, and it’s not what I thought it would be, or what I wanted it to be. Again, it is what is right for me, and I’m embracing what is right for me, however it shows up these days.

    I keep receiving reminders about my upcoming birthday, mostly from folks wanting to help me make the best decision about Medicare packages. When I think about turning 65, sometimes it feels surreal; sometimes I wonder how it arrived so soon. What I don’t feel is old. I still feel like the same me I always did; in fact, in a lot of ways, I feel more like me than ever. I still have a way to go on my year-long quest, and I know that I will shed more things that no longer serve me as well as receive insights along the way. So how do I really feel about turning 65? I don’t really like it, I want things to be different, and they aren’t.

    Can I complain about it, and rail about fleeting youth?

    Sure I can, and I’ll still celebrate my 65th birthday in a few months. That’s why being with what is, is sooooo much better than trying to go back to the way things were. From this place I can be the best me I am now, and truth be told, I have more energy now, and feel better that I did 5, 10, or more years ago. I choose to live my life fully now because lamenting about what would have or could have been keeps me from my full potential. I don’t want to wake up at 75 or 85 and feel like I didn’t live my life all along the way.

  • Getting Ready for Surgery

    Here is a picture of my new chair.

    There was a time when I would have told you that I would never own a recliner. I don’t like them and I never have. So why do I now have one in my bedroom? Next week I am going to have shoulder replacement surgery. When I first found out about the need for surgery I was in denial, mostly because I had no idea that it was even possible to replace a shoulder joint.

    I left that appointment in a daze.

    At that point, I had been working on regaining full mobility in my shoulder for over two years. In addition to physical therapy I’ve tried massage, acupuncture, chiropractic, an anti-inflammatory diet, supplements, strength training, exercise, yoga, emotional release, and probably a few more. Sometime during the summer I reached a plateau, I was no longer making progress.

    My PT wanted to get an x-ray to determine if I had a bone spur that was inhibiting movement. The x-ray showed that I did have a bone spur, and I made an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon. In anticipation of this appointment I was preparing for the removal of a bone spur. All of the research I had done told me that it was fairly easy as far as surgery is concerned with a relatively short recovery period. Instead, the surgeon walked into the room and told me I needed a shoulder replacement.

    The day before that appointment my arm was in a lot of pain, and I asked to be shown what would be the right answer for me to restore my range of motion and alleviate the pain. Shoulder replacement was NOT the answer I wanted.

    I’ve learned though that the answer to our prayers is not always the answer we want.

    After that initial appointment I did a lot more research. I had an MRI. I had a second consult. I got a second opinion. This time I asked more questions.

    How about stem cell or cortisone?

    Can you just take off the bone spur?

    Is there ANYTHING else I can do to avoid surgery?

    The answers were again not what I wanted to hear. I have no more cartilage in my shoulder joint. Any of those fixes might alleviate pain for a time, but my cartilage would still be gone. I know that shoulder replacement surgery is the right thing for me. I know this mostly because of the timing of the answer to my prayer. There was a part of me that knew this even then, in spite of the denial.

    So what does the chair have to do with any of this? In my research I found a lot of advice, lots of it conflicting. The only consistent piece of advice was the need for a recliner to sleep in for the first few months; again; not what I wanted to hear, so I tried to debunk that one too. But that didn’t work, so I have my chair on the advice of many trusted friends and sources. I still don’t like it, just like I don’t like the fact that I’m having surgery. I can know that something is the right thing for me and not like it at the same

    time. Think about that. How does that change the way you show up for what you know is the right choice for you?

     

  • My Yearlong Quest Took A Detour

    I returned home from four days in Vegas last week, or maybe it was last year, or yesterday. It was one of those experiences that was timeless and that cellularly changed me once again. The event was called The Stage, and I took the stage to tell my story. What I came to realize is that there are many parts of my story that I have not yet told; some because they are too painful, some because they are too new. What I discovered, yet again, is the power in speaking my story, all of it. It is time for me to begin to share one of the new parts of my story.

    On June 13, 2018, I began a yearlong quest.

    The day was my 64th birthday. My intention for the quest was to release all that no longer served me in preparation to receive what is mine to carry into the world. Now, as then, as I write those words, I gets shivers in my whole body, the kind that tell me that I am on the right path. In addition, I want to emerge on my 65th birthday in vibrant health, and standing fully in my Queen energy.


    These are some of my insights and messages from the first days of my quest. I acknowledged that when I am fully aware and awake in my life that everything that I encounter is in service to my yearlong intention; every experience, every encounter, every insight, everything. Enough time and space will be required to integrate these experiences. I have committed fully to this quest.


    As I sat alone with the Divine on my birthday, in a vision a door opened for me; when I went through, everything looked the same as my world now, but there was more clarity. It was as if I was looking through a sharper lens. The message I received was that everything is clearer when experienced in the present moment. I also got the feeling, more than ever, that everything is connected; that the lessons I learn on this quest were seeded in the past, in my childhood, and in all of the experiences I’ve had up until now.


    It’s now been almost six months since I began this quest. I am approaching the mid-point. My health is continuing to improve, and I‘ll be embarking on another quest inside this one. One of the health issues I’ve been working on, for longer than this year, is shoulder mobility. What started out as a frozen shoulder, is now full-fledged osteoarthritis. I need shoulder replacement surgery.

    This is not a part of the story that I wanted to claim.

    I didn’t want to have surgery. I wanted to deny that I needed it and I wanted a miracle. One day a couple of months ago I said this prayer, “I’m ready for my shoulder to be healed and to be pain free, what is the next step?” The very next day I found out I needed surgery. Even remembering that I was told that everything I encounter along this path is a part of this yearlong quest, I wanted to deny it; I wanted to find another answer. This is a big one for me. I don’t like doctors. I look to holistic measures for my health care. And I especially don’t like surgery. The last surgery I had was an emergency C–section almost 38 years ago. Even my subsequent pregnancy was not a C-section. I sat with this situation for a long time. I did research, got an MRI, went back for another consult, and even got a second opinion. I found out that doing all that was not going to grow more cartilage back between the bones of my shoulder joint, no, not even stem cell treatment. I had to go back and remember how quickly my answer came when I said my prayer. And that’s when I got my full body yes. Believe me I wanted it to be a no, but it definitely was a yes. I called and began the scheduling process. Immediately I felt like I was moving forward in my quest. I still don’t like the idea, and when I think too long about my humerus being cut, I start to go down a rabbit hole.

    There is a part of me that is being fully awakened, the part of me who knows my Truth, and she is not going away.


    During this time my business has been evolving in a big way. It is taking on the texture of my own grief journey. I am learning new ways to tell my story and bring my work into the world. Dan and I are being inspired in new exciting ways to bring our own journey into our work. One of the things I’ve discovered it that the life I am meant to live is not stagnant. I will not reach a certain point and stay there for the rest of my days. The life I am meant to live continues to evolve as I say yes to where life is calling me.

    So stay tuned, I’ll be sharing the story of my shoulder surgery, as well as my yearlong quest as I continue to move through it.

  • Another Milestone

    As I write these words, I am marking the 18th anniversary of Leah’s death.

    The week that starts with her accident and ends with her death is always different each year. There is always a surreal quality to them. I decided to take this day to be with my thoughts, to write, to contemplate, to meditate. My tears have been close to the surface all day. It feels right to be quiet today; to honor her with quiet contemplation.

    I am also reminded today that it is in walking my grief journey that I find purpose in my life and my work.

    I never would have found the courage to share my story with others in the way that I’m being called to do so without the lesson I learned, and continue to learn, from my daughter and from our journey together. My life is integrated for the first time ever. There is no separation from who I am in my personal life and who I am in my business life. There is only the fullness of who I am in each moment.

    My grief journey shows me how to live fully every day.

    Even when my feelings are difficult, even when my tears are close to the surface; through it all I have found a buoyancy of my heart that let’s me know that I am following the right path.

    On my 64th birthday in June of 2017 I was called to begin a yearlong quest. A quest to examine what no longer serves me, and to call in what is needed next. I want to emerge from my quest on my 65th birthday with all I need as I welcome this next phase of my life. There have already been several challenges and discoveries. I still do not have all the answers to the questions I posed at the beginning of the quest, but I do have some. I also have glimpses of other answers. I’m careful not to put too much stock in the glimpses because I know I’m not seeing the whole picture right now. This particular anniversary, in the middle of my yearlong quest, is piercing my heart in a new way. I will begin to share more about my discoveries as well as where I am being called in my life in the next few months.

    I am grateful for my journey, for all of the circumstances that aligned to make me who I am; for the courage to continue to dig to find myself; for the breaking open of my heart to hold all that is here in each moment.

    For a good part of my life I have searched to define myself; to describe who I am and what I stand for. That has eluded me for a long time. Here is the first jewel of my quest. My name is Anju, she who lives in heart. I have been inviting this name into my heart since I received it. I will not be changing my name on legal documents, but I will be taking on Anju and the spirit of my name in my daily life.

    Who we are in one aspect of our lives is who we are in all aspects.

    As I take that on, I enter the world as a fully integrated self, reclaiming all the parts of me and of my soul that were scattered in order for me to survive in an earlier part of my life. As I enter my next stage, I need every part of me to stand in my wholehearted self.

    I invite you to come along with me on my journey and to make your own if you are called.

    I am doing a series of classes in my Grief and Samyama Facebook group called “Living Life Fully Now”. I’ve been sharing what that means to me in various stages of my grief journey and my life. The classes will run every Wednesday night until the end of 2018. We will also reflect on 2018, and see what no longer serves us as we move to 2019. The class is in Zoom, and I share the recording in the group. If you would like to be added to the group so that you can attend the classes, please let me know, or send me a friend request on Facebook. We need to be friends there in order for me to add you. The group is a secret group to ensure that our conversations occur in a safe space. Only those invited into the group can see it, and only members can comment. I hope to see you there.

  • Profound Insights and Feeling What We’re Feeling

    It’s back to school time.

    I live in an area with year round schools but I’ve been seeing back-to-school pictures and posts since July. It’s this time of year, however, when traditional schools return to class that remind me that I will soon be entering the months leading up to Leah’s accident.

    The new school year always brought excitement in our house.

    Seeing friends again, new clothes, schools supplies, and the expectation of what the next school year would bring. Nothing marked the progression of time for me like school starting. I could see how much Peter and Leah had grown over the summer, not just physically, but in every other way. Very often a loss happens around the same time of some kind of milestone and the meaning of that milestone is forever changed. That’s what happened for me when Leah died. This time of the year always holds unexpected feelings, and I’m still discovering places that happens; almost 18 years later.

    A few nights ago we were at a concert.

    In the row in front of us there was a young woman who was pregnant. She was there with her family. A family friend came over, sat down in front of her, gently placed her hands on the woman’s pregnant belly, looking lovingly into her eyes, and said, “Look at you!” In that instant, I realized yet another experience I would not have, another secondary loss, I would never look into my pregnant daughter’s eyes placing my hands on her belly, the one holding my grandchild.

    Tears came and I let them.

    Long gone are the days when I suppress my feelings because they are too painful or because they come at an inconvenient time. I allowed the feelings to be there as I listened to the band playing, and in a few minutes the tears passed, leaving in their wake, a tender place in my heart. My heart was opened a little more in that moment and it allowed me to feel the music and the energy of the band in a deeper way.

    It astounds me that my grief journey continues to bring me profound insights each time I fully engage with my feelings. Last night it would have been easy to suppress that particular moment, to look away and only listen to the music. If I had I would have missed an opportunity to understand a little more about my feelings and how they allow me to say yes to the full spectrum of who I am.

  • Many Facets of Grief

    Grief travels a diverse and twisted road.

    It’s often a road that we could never have imagined. I remember thinking that I was grieving for my daughter, Leah, differently than I ever thought I would. You will encounter many facets or aspects of grief as you travel this road. The facets may also be seen as stages of grief; however, I’ve come to see them as facets because for me stages of grief suggest something that will be completed, where as a facet is a smaller part of a whole. My experience has been that a facet can be revisited again and again. As we gain clarity on our journey, a facet can illuminate a deeper truth each time it is revisited.
    Here are just a few of the facets I have experienced.

    Early Grief

    Early grief is not defined by a specific time frame. Early grief usually has many facets of its own. Being overwhelmed, shocked, and needing distractions and diversions can serve a purpose as we discern our new normal. We learn how to take care of ourselves in a new way during the early days of our grief journey. In the early days of my own grief, I was unable to do much of anything. This served as a time of deep listening, of finding what I needed, of rest, and of being with my feelings. When all of that was too overwhelming, I used diversion or distraction to avoid my feelings. Eventually, I learned how much diversion or distraction was helpful and when I needed to begin engaging with my feelings. Everyone has his or her own timetable for moving through this first part of grief. Learning what yours is can help you gain clarity while in this facet.


    Searching for Meaning

    At some point you may wonder if there is more to your grief journey than what appears on the surface. I would often wonder why I was still here and why Leah wasn’t. It became important for me to know what that reason was, and how I could live up to where my grief journey was calling me to be. As I began to learn how to be present to all of my feelings, I began to realize that it was during these times—when I truly was able to experience presence—that I would receive what I needed to continue to say yes to my journey, to my life, and to where I was being called to go. In the present moment I found everything I needed.

    Settling for a Good Life

    This is a facet I only recently recognized. After I left my job and began seeing clients, I felt like I had found the meaning I was searching for. I was helping others navigate their grief journeys. I felt like my life had purpose again; and that I was honoring Leah’s memory. I could have stayed at that place without any fear that I was not living the life I was meant to live. Except that I would not have written my book. I would not be sharing my story the way I am now. I would have stayed in that somewhat comfortable place to avoid doing deeper work, inner work that was not at all easy, and I would have not continued to evolve. I’ve come to realize that living the life I am meant to live means that I continue to say yes to the fullness of who I am in each moment. My growth will never stop.

    The facets that make up each of our journeys are unique to each of us. I’ve experienced many other facets of my grief journey along the way, and I revisit them from time to time. I’ve also seen how the lessons I’ve learned in my grief journey have given insight to healing wounds from my childhood. That’s something I didn’t expect. I continue to be surprised by all of the threads of my journey; how they are weaving a life unlike anything I could have ever imagined. Maybe it’s not the life I would have asked for, but the life I say yes to in each moment.
  • Saturday, August 4, 2018: Intro to Self-Samyama Workshop

    Saturday, August 4, 2018: Intro to Self-Samyama Workshop

    Saturday, August 4, 2018
    10:00 am – 12:00 pm

    Are you ready to stop agonizing about your life and why you aren’t accomplishing what you tell yourself you will accomplish when wake up every Monday morning?

    Are you ready to heal your old emotional wounds, the past, and everything that is keeping you stuck where you are? Are you ready to live from love rather than fear?

    Do you want to be in touch with your deepest wisdom and your intuition without the endless mind trip?

    If you answered yes to even one of these questions, then Self-Samyama is for you!

    In this Introduction to Self-Samyama you will:

    • Learn the 3 levels of awareness of Samyama.
    • Learn how to bring awareness to your heart.
    • Be led in several guided Samyama meditations so that you can begin to practice Self-Samyama on your own.

     

    Space is limited:

    Click here to register.