Welcome to the Living Practice – January 2001

Letter from the editor

Quote from Charlotte Joko Beck

Helping others by the Click of Your Mouse

An Old Musican by Hafiz

Website Review by Dr. KEV

The Disease That Your Doctor Might Miss by Dr. Jeanne Lisella, D.C

What Does God Look Like by Denise Levinson Ross

Yoga Story by Ilise Benun

A Week in Angola by Ian Denchasy

January’s Meditation

Dear lovely viewers,

Happy New Year from Yogaeverywhere.com. Just a quick reminder how important you are to me. I am so grateful to be sharing teachings with students all over the world through YogaEverywhere.com. and The Living Practice. I once heard Pema Chodron state it so eloquently … "Teachings are like a drops of water, either you can leave them on a plate to dry or deliver them into the ocean to join the sea."

We have an exceptional eNewsletter this month. I sense we are going to continue to grow and thrive on the synergy created by us. Please continue to support us by telling your friends, forwarding the eNewsletter to other sentient beings, contributing articles, sharing your teachings and or becoming a sponsor. Thanks again.

With much love,

Megan

YogaEverywhere.com/

Ps. Stay tuned to Phase Two of YogaEverywhere.com entitled Yoga with Wings. It is awesome!

Quote by Charlotte Joko Beck

Wisdom is the ability to see life as it is, not the way I want it to be.

Helping Others By the Click of Your Mouse contributed by Constance Ahrons

Here's an easy way to donate food over the holidays without any cost to you. On the same site you can donate a mammogram as well as some other donations. Quite clever of the UN to do this. Go to the Hunger Site at the UN. All you do is click a button and somewhere in the world a hungry person gets a meal to eat, at no cost to you. Corporate sponsors (who gain advertising in the process because you see their logo) pay for the food. It is so easy, go now to the site and click on the "donate food" button. It takes one second. www.thehungersite.com/

An Old Musican by Hafiz

How

Should

Those who know of God

Meet and

Part?

The way

An old musician

Greets his beloved

Instrument

And will take special care,

As a great artist always does,

To enhance the final note

Of each

Performance.

The Disease That Your Doctor Might Miss by Dr. Jeanne Lisella, D.C
More than 20 million American women have a thyroid disorder that is overlooked or misdiagnosed as perimenopausal, anxiety, chronic fatigue or depression.

The signs and symptoms can resemble other disorders: fatigue, weight gain, moodiness, sleeping problems, dry skin, loss of hair, irregular periods, nervousness, forgetfulness and sometimes a feeling of "foggy" thinking.

There is also a postpartum condition that moms can get and many times this is diagnosed as postpartum depression - it tends to be a temporary state to the demands of motherhood.

As you can see there is a lot of overlap with different conditions. The first step to do is get a thyroid blood panel through your family doctor. If it comes out normal we can then check it chiropractically through the technique of Applied Kinesiology and a nutritional work-up.

Many times the clue that triggers me to think that it is a thyroid problem is that there is sudden joint pain around the time of premenopause or that the adjustments do not hold even the patient is doing proper biomechanics at home.

The best preventive support for the thyroid is a diet that has good quality protein; being either vegetarian or meat or fish, low in sugar, low in caffeine and high in vegetables. There are also supplements to check for: minerals, essential fatty acids and possible organic thyroid support. If the blood work comes out normal this is a good time to correct a possible borderline problem before going on to prescribe medication. Note that even if you’re on medication the above suggestions should be followed so that your thyroid can be strengthening again.

Dr. Jeanne Lisella, D.C. is a local Santa Monica chiropractor in family practice for
over 10 years. She specializes in women's health issues (PMS, menopause,
pre/post natal care, and osteoporosis) and children's health. (310) 396-5014

What Does God Look Like? by Denise Levinson Ross
Children ask wonderful questions. What does God look like can be easily answered with the following art project.

Materials:

8 1/2 x 11 white piece of paper
several magazines
scissors
glue stick
lots of imagination

Fold your paper in half to make a crease in the paper. Open your paper and lay it flat on your workspace. Label each side with the following titles "Living" and "Non-Living" Have your child cut out pictures representing living and non-living things. Explain to your child the difference – for example, a car moves but it is not a living thing.

Have your child separate the pictures into two categories: Living and Non-living. Glue the pictures on the paper.

When completed your child will be able to see that God created a large variety of things - flowers, animals, people, mountain, sunshine and God inspired people to create non-living things such as cars, computers, homes, clothing, furniture, books and artwork.

Children learn when they play. This simple art project enlightens the adult and the child with the miracle of God. Happy New Year & Happy Reading!

Denise Levinson Ross (760) 517-2607 x1039

Yoga Stories by Ilise Benun 11/27/00

I am really impatient lately, much more than ever. When I’m online, I refuse to wait more than 2 seconds for a Web site, and if something doesn't catch my eye right away, I don’t have time to drill down. If I encounter a voice mail system, I hang up. If there’s a line at the bank, post office or supermarket, I go somewhere else.

I also notice certain impatience with friends who don’t get to the point fast enough. When I’m talking to someone in a crowd, I’m often distracted by others in the background and fail to listen to the person in front of me. And at a conference recently, I was literally in agony when one of the speakers dragged out his thoughts, like a huge .jpeg file downloading.

That’s one of the reasons I’m studying yoga; I’m trying to be more present, though I’m finding it close to impossible. I’m okay at the beginning of class, when we are just breathing into different parts of our lungs. In fact, as long as we’re doing a guided exercise, I’m relatively attentive. But the minute my teacher stops talking, I stop listening, to her and to myself. It’s almost like I need her voice to focus me (which is not to say I don’t zone out when she’s talking also, it’s just not quite as instantaneous.)

It amazes me how quickly I go off, without even knowing it, to someplace far away, usually to the past or the future – what I’m having for dinner, what I said to a client or what I shouldn’t have said to my boyfriend – topics of truly little import, even to myself.

So of course, the final relaxation pose is a colossal challenge for me. In fact, it’s the moment when my mind winds up to its highest pitch, which I realize is the antithesis of the exercise. Maybe I just refuse to do what I’m told or what everyone else is doing. Gotta be different.

But what I really wonder is this: what exactly is so compelling about my thoughts that I have to keep going back to them? Why are they so much more important than what I’m doing, especially when I’m trying to learn something new? And exactly whom am I talking to when the monologue starts?

Ilise Benun

www.artofselfpromotion.com/
PO Box 23 Hoboken NJ 07030
(201) 653-0783
(201) 222-2494 fax
Author of "Self Promotion Online"

A Week in Angola by Ian Denchasy

Hi Folks, here is a blow by blow account of my travels:

Dr. Bing and I left last Friday evening, traveling approximately 10.5 hours to reach our first destination – London’s Heathrow International Airport. The Virgin Airlines flight was very comfortable and I was able to sleep a couple of hours between viewings of "The Clumps, The Wonder Boys, Toy Story 2," and "Beautiful." We had a five-hour layover in London, so we took a train into Piccadilly Circus for dinner and a few moments of sightseeing.

After scurrying back to the airport, we flew an additional 11 hours to Johannesburg, South Africa, checking into a wonderful cluster of cottages located approximately 35 minutes from the airport. Johannesburg is very cosmopolitan, with malls and restaurants just like Los Angeles (as a matter of fact, Dr. Bing and I laughed about how we could be in any city in the US and find the exact same stores). The one major difference is that there is an obvious and stark divide between rich and poor, the poor being primarily black. The black population is still generations away from recovering from apartheid and gaining some economic equality; unemployed black South Africans were everywhere you turned and white neighborhoods stood like gated fortresses, complete with electric fences, razor wire, armed guards, and high fences. On our way to dinner, we passed a dead body on the highway, hit by a car only minutes before. Eerily, the man’s shoes still "stood" right where he was hit and he was thrown about 30 feet away, blood streaming from the back of his head in a large pool on the highway, while a person rushed over with a jacket with which to cover his head. With the amount of people walking along the highways, I’m sure this is a common occurrence.

We awoke the next morning and drove to Medunsa University, 45 minutes away from Pretoria, which in turn is 45 minutes North from Johannesburg. It’s very disconcerting driving, as everyone drives on the "wrong," or left side of the road (the steering wheel is located on the right side) but Dr. Bing drove like he had been living there his whole life. We met with individuals in charge of Medunsa’s telemedicine program for an hour, and then drove back to Pretoria to meet with Dr. Golube, who is the government’s telemedicine coordinator for the entire country. They are just ending a pilot phase of 28 ISDN connected sites and are going to begin exploring IP solutions at the end of the coming year. The government is very active in the area of electronic medicine and wants to keep standards controlled for consistency.

After finishing our meetings, we drove back to Pretoria, as Dr. Bing had neglected to get any sort of vaccinations prior to our trip. Traveling to Angola requires malaria pills and shots for yellow fever, cholera, and hepatitis A. Typhoid and tetanus is also recommended. If you do not have proof of these vaccinations, you cannot get out of Angola – pure and simple. Luckily, we found a local travel office and were able to get all of the necessary paperwork and shots taken care of in short order.

Sunday, the big day had arrived and we were off to the airport very early to fly to Angola. We almost didn’t make our flight, as we had to deal with the large boxes of computer equipment traveling with us to Angola, which required substantial time and money to get from Johannesburg customs to Angola. We did make the flight, however, and arrived in Angola on time at 12:25pm. The most interesting thing about our very full flight was the very diverse group of passengers; about 30% were Caucasian (most on business, though a couple of "dudes" were on the plane with their fishing poles and backpacks!), 60% were black, with the remaining 10% comprised of Asians, Middle Easterners, and others.

The first thing one notices flying into Luanda is a vast (and I do mean VAST) area of shacks stretching as far the horizon allows from the airplane window. As you disembark the plane, there are armed soldiers stationed outside and it is very hot and muggy. The airport is very rundown and it takes a long time to get passports checked and pick up luggage. There is no air conditioning and there is a strong odor of sweat that permeates the entire place. It is very hectic as well, with everyone scrambling for his or her bags and boxes and having to check through security before being allowed out. We waited for what seemed like an eternity for our bags and computer boxes and, as the last item wound its way around the luggage conveyor belt, it became clear that one of our boxes never made it. I filled out a bunch of paperwork to try to track it down and we left the airport with our escorts from USAID and Loreto Neto University.

The city of Luanda, Angola was designed to handle approximately 300,000 people. There are over 4 million living here and more arriving from war-torn areas daily. The city can lose power for months at a time. The streets are barely paved and there are few traffic lights or signs anywhere. Buildings are old and decaying, with no electricity, running water, or working plumbing in most of them. Thousands of destitute people are everywhere, some begging for handouts, some selling trinkets and foodstuffs at the side of the road, some simply sitting around or walking along to who-knows-where. Amputees injured from land mines out in the countryside have also found their way to the city to escape the fighting and dangerous conditions in their former lands and approach cars to beg for small handouts. I kept thinking (more like hoping) that we must have been traveling to an oasis away from all of this – that there must be an area of relative prosperity somewhere. Surely the ENTIRE city couldn’t be like this?

Alas, I was wrong – so wrong. The hotel is located right in the middle of the city, surrounded by shacks and tall buildings which are literally only shells of buildings, filled with refugees and poor people. Again, the poverty is everywhere you turn. The hotel itself IS the oasis. Brand new, running water, television; it’s a shock to walk into a polished marble lobby with a cocktail lounge and restaurant located in such a place. It actually is reminiscent of a nice hotel in the US. I didn’t want to leave and go back outside. I wanted to escape all of what I had seen so far. I wanted to shut my door, click my heels, and wake up next to my wife and son; to look at my garden; to pick up the phone and call my friends. I wondered what Dr. Bing thought of all this, but he just sat silent, lost in his own emotions and thoughts.

Suddenly, I hated Dr. Bing. I hated Angola. I hated the very idea of being here. I wanted to go home. Immediately. Anxiety was overtaking me and I snapped at Dr. Bing in the elevator on the way to the room. I had no one else upon whom I could unleash my anger. A meeting with USAID representative failed to calm my nerves and I felt trapped and alone. Even a phone call from my wife didn’t help. It only made me hate my situation worse. What the hell was I doing here? What possible difference could I make in this universe of despair and hopelessness?

I spent Tuesday night tossing and turning, dreading Wednesday. I had not eaten since breakfast and could barely choke down a Balance Bar and some water. I didn’t trust the food and had only one bottle of water to get me through to the next day. It was my most precious possession. I didn’t even want to shower in this putrid Angola water. My mission became incredibly clear – get to Saturday and get home without going completely insane and having some sort of nervous breakdown or severe anxiety attack.

When I saw Dr. Bing on Wednesday, a huge wave of relief washed over me and I suddenly felt how foolish I was to have snapped at him the previous evening. I apologized and he calmed me enough to give me the courage to walk out the door and face what was to be the worst experience of my life.

Things started out well. We visited Loreto University (a ramshackle set of buildings with a guarded entrance) and toured the lecture hall and auditorium, ending our tour in the computer center that, remarkably, had very recent hardware and decent Internet access. I was able to logon to my e-mail back at Drew and get to CNN with relative ease. Given this, the prospects for telemedicine are actually quite favorable. Several companies offer Internet access, so we should be able to purchase the necessary pathways to make our distance learning piecework. The students at the computer lab were a wonderful group as well, eager to learn and filled with questions. I left feeling much better about our chances for success.

However, things quickly degraded from that point onward. Our next stop was a visit to their medical clinic, a collection of dirty cots and individuals in deplorable health. We focused on malaria and HIV patients, took some photos, and left. Our next stop was Josina Michel Hospital. Josina Michel is a hundred and fifty-year-old building, crumbling, with no electricity, no running water, and no sanitary facilities. The toilets don’t flush. They have few beds and hundreds of patients. They charge no money for their services. They don’t even bother asking for payment. Patients fill out one form when they check in, nothing when they leave. We met with the Medical and Clinical Directors, who gave us a tour of the facility. The smell was horrifying. Human beings laying again on dirty cots waiting to get minimal treatment or die. I started to feel queasy. We were led to another building where they housed and treated AIDS patients. A patient with AIDS is ostracized from society here. Completely. Family will disavow even knowing them; they will be pointed out on the street and shut out. Completely. Most AIDS patients aren’t even told the have the disease when they check in! Better they don’t know. They’re going to die anyway, why tell their families? When they finally die, no one comes for their bodies. Dr. Bing spoke with an AIDS patient while I stood back and watched another die before my very eyes. He lifted his head, looked at me, closed his eyes, and DIED. I couldn’t believe it; a man endures a life of misery and dies painfully; and what’s the last thing he sees? His family? His children? Friends? No, he sees a healthy, cowering white man in a tie.

No one in our party even noticed. Some nurses stood outside the room, waiting for us to finish, to come and collect the body. To take it where? To whom? The flies started gathering on the dead body. The smell was overwhelming. I suddenly began to feel faint. I broke into a cold sweat. I was soaked. I had to get out of there – out of this whole country – fast. I sat down by a window, hoping a cool breeze would make me feel better. All I felt was a hot wind making me more nauseous. Suddenly, the world started closing in. I felt like I was locked in a prison, denied my freedom, and forced to deal with conditions not fit for human existence. Anxiety was overwhelming me. In my paranoia I started to think I was coming down with malaria.

But, what could I do? Pass out? Where would I get medical attention if I did have a problem? Josina Michel? A dirty cot? Filthy water? I had to pull myself together FAST. Had to keep my composure, if not for me for my hosts. They’re counting on us to help them. What kind of selfish person would I be if I failed those who sacrifice so much? Here are folks truly doing God’s works. They work in abysmal conditions, for little to no pay (I was informed that doctors make about $150.00 a month – yes, that’s one hundred and fifty), taking care of their fellow countrymen with little hope of curing or sustaining their lives. They have to live here everyday; they have to drive these horrible roads everyday; they have to endure death and no running water and no electricity for months at a time and streets and pollution and amputees and… everyday.

"If I could just get back to the hotel," I thought. But our host had other ideas. Before returning to the hotel, we visited an NGO (non-government organization) trying to deal with HIV. An old, one story building in an alley adjacent to a dump. People everywhere. Urine smell. They had a tattered collection of literature and were supported by an Italian funding source. Literature that nobody reads. The visit lasted far too long and was entirely conducted in Portuguese. I told Dr. Bing it was time for me to leave. NOW. We returned to the hotel at 2pm and I didn’t leave again until the next day. At least I had CNN and some basic Internet to bring me back. Again, no sleep.

Angola Part 2

My wife telephoned me that night. The conversation consisted of one, overriding subject – get me out the hell out of Africa as soon as possible. I had decided I would tough it out until Saturday, but after that I wanted the fastest way home, rather than spending an additional two days in South Africa. I was never coming back. She did as I requested and changed my itinerary to bypass Durban and fly directly from Angola to Johannesburg to London. I would have to spend the night in London before flying to Los Angeles, but that was a small price to pay to get out of this hellhole. I slept only two or three hours that night, watching CNN and the resolution of the Gore/Bush nonsense.

Angola Part 3

Our guide, Albano, promptly picked us up at 8:30am on Thursday and took us to Augustino Neto University for meetings with NGO’s and to set up the equipment. USAID representatives took me on a tour of a Catholic University in another part of the city, where I saw a very state-of-the-art computer learning center, lab, and repair dept. It was just like back home. Of course, only the very elite could afford to attend classes here. I had an argument with the USAID person on the unfairness of this, but was told, basically, that this is the reality of Luanda. I guess my public school mentality was starting to assert itself.

Slowly, my paranoia began to fade. Working and staying on the move in my own field of expertise made me comfortable. I started noticing the poverty less and the few glimmers of hope more. We continued our tour and saw a very nice computer lab in the Economic Development Dept. of the University, located at the waterfront. Maybe good things CAN happen in Angola, I thought. Sure, the building was dilapidated and we had to walk up 5 flights of stairs in oppressive heat, but so what? Everyone else managed to do it. People were learning despite the absence of elevators, air conditioning, and modern texts. It was amazing. I actually thought the view of the ocean from the lab was quite lovely.

On the drive back, I noticed stores, a couple of decent looking restaurants, and even a bank. There was some construction going on – buildings being built or rebuilt. Even in these conditions, life went on, people were moving and trying to get by, and the smiles on most of the children’s faces brought a smile to my face as well. Was my perception changing or was I simply becoming desensitized to the reality around me? I couldn’t tell.

We got back to the medical campus at Augustino Neto at approximately 11:30am and set up the computers for the next days’ demonstration and preceding presentations to be given by Dr. Bing and myself. They worked fine, though it looked like the speakers, microphones, and power adapters in our missing box were never going to arrive.

Apparently, this is common in Angola. A person from their Internet service company showed up and put them on the net and I successfully connected to my home computer and saw my home office live on NetMeeting. I was now actually starting to smile again. Students from the university were coming into the room with that wonderful exuberance we seem to have forgotten back in the states. They wanted to KNOW. How did it work? Where could they get more information? Who invented this? The questions were endless (and in Portuguese, I might add) and I struggled to answer as many questions as I could. They didn’t need to be told to learn – they wanted knowledge for its own sake. There’s no corporate job waiting for them after they graduate, no guarantees. Not even the basic necessities we take for granted. Running water. Telephones. Television. Light. School is a refuge from reality. I finally felt sleepy.

Dr. Bing and I had a strange dinner that night in the hotel. I was excited. I felt good about our presentations the next day. I felt good about our chances for success. I felt good about all the people I had met on this trip. I felt good about helping. I felt good about returning. I felt good about Angola’s difficult journey ahead. That night, for the first time since leaving Los Angeles eight days ago, I slept deeply.

Angola Part 4

Today is Friday at 2:30pm. In less than 24 hours I will leave Angola.

Dr. Bing gave a presentation this morning. We had most of the university staff and several students in attendance – approximately 70 people by my count. The first presentation focused on who we are, what we’ve done in LA, and why we were here. Everything Dr. Bing said was spoken through a translator, while I operated the laptop and spoke at selected times. I told the audience I was committed. They had won my heart and I would not let them down. Dr. Bing made an impassioned appeal to them to join us in making this a success. Only Angolans can make this successful – we’re only here to help Angolans. During a brief intermission, a surgeon/professor approached me and told me not to get their hopes up, that I didn’t understand the difficulties, that maybe we shouldn’t be here trying. Was it just a coincidence that he happened to be white? I don’t know.

I was enraged. I tried my hardest to contain my anger and contempt. I didn’t fly all this way and get through Josina Michel to hear this. This was the same attitude I remembered from back home when Dr. Flowers tried to start telemedicine in South Central Los Angeles. The same type of person who cannot leap beyond his prejudices and fears to embrace something of even tiny benefit. The same type of person who would try to make us fail. I quickly informed Dr. Bing of this conversation and he decided to address this immediately.

The first black American slaves exported from Africa were Angolan. You can see the resemblance immediately. For a black person in America to see an Angolan is to see themselves and their true histories. There is a museum here that chronicles this.

Dr. Bing addressed this fact and spoke of how, like the slaves in America struggling to break the chains of bondage – both physically and mentally, so too must Angolans break the chains of poverty. He was now in Preacher-mode. The faces before us must carry forth the knowledge and hopes they gain from the university and spread it to everyone they can, he said. We are just two individuals who want to help. Only the Angolans themselves can make things better. His talk was perfect. I could barely contain my desire to cry. Almost the entire audience stayed to visit with us and take pictures. I joked how I only wanted pictures with women so I could show everyone back home where to find the most beautiful girls in the world. Smiles everywhere. I was finally at peace. I was me again. We had a very formal meeting with the University Director following our talk. A lot is riding on this project. We must be successful.

We are now done with our official duties here. We are completely exhausted. We will attend a party and a dinner this afternoon and evening before heading back home. Luckily, Angola is coming home with us.

This trip has changed my life in ways I could not have ever imagined and given me memories I will never forget, and friendships I will cherish forever. These are remarkable people. They could leave. They stay. Angola has challenges. We must solve them. Angola has despair. We must help them with hope. Angola has the resources to make Angola better. We must help them realize a better Angola.

Dr. Bing and I have finished our last evening here (Friday). We attended a party at the US Ambassador’s house, then another party at the home of a fellow USAID grantee. The evening was finished over dinner at Tamariz, a seafood restaurant located on the coast. The meal was wonderful, attended by USAID Director Keith Simmons and his wife, his assistant Alfreda, Albano and his wife (gorgeous), and faculty of UAN. We had grilled shrimp and carne asada and drank wine and laughed all night long. It was the perfect ending to our first visit. We go home tomorrow. Home to our loved ones and comfortable lives. The real work now begins.

My final act of the evening was to walk out to the edge of the ocean. The restaurant was only a few feet from the water’s edge. There were no people around – the first time I had observed this the whole trip. The ocean was warm, the stars were out, and I could see the lights of fishing boats off in the distance. I was told there is a beautiful island a few miles out of view, a paradise. There was even a hint of good surfing down the coast a bit. How weird would it be to surf Angola. I’ll bet not many people have done that! I let the water wash over my feet, soaking my shoes. It felt fantastic. A few thousand miles away, the United States was waiting.

Angola End

The last day of our stay in Angola was spent going over details of our project with Albano and Felipe, our two main contacts here. It is apparent that this is not going to be easy, but we’ll carry on. USAID came and picked us up at the conclusion of the meeting and took us back to the airport for our flight to Johannesburg. One more time through the gauntlet of poverty. Nzuze, the USAID worker, ushered us through the difficult process of checking in and getting past the guards to the gate. We had two hours to kill before our flight, which stretched into three, as our flight was late. No air conditioning and no ventilation and hundreds of sweating people. Dr. Bing and I were dying.

Finally, the plane arrived and we boarded after what seemed like an eternity. Air conditioning. Heaven. Three hours later we touched down in Johannesburg and, because we were late getting in, had to literally run to catch our flight to London. 10 hours later we touched down in London, at 6am. Civilization at last. Hot showers, good food, and a good night’s sleep. One more long flight home. Alicia, Keleii, Mom, work, and friends at last!

This will be the hardest grant I have worked on to date. It is going to take a huge commitment for very little to no money. We have only 8 months left to make it happen and to work on funding opportunities to sustain it. USAID may be able to come up with a little money, but it’s up to us to find a way, ultimately.

January’s Meditation by Megan Lurie McCarver

I love this meditation; it’s easy to use and very natural to practice. I learned it many years back in an advanced teacher training with Erich Schiffmann, www.movingintostillness.com. He calls it Counting Backward. The dynamics of focusing your intellectual mind on the task of counting numbers (like counting sheep when we were children) entwined with your long deep breathing spirals your great awareness directly into your core. Please explore at least once a week, allotting yourself ten to fifteen minutes for peace of mind. The more you practice this technique, the more interesting the experience becomes. Be curious, courageous and have fun!

Here are the instructions. … Try to count backward beginning at fifty all the way to zero. You silently exhale the even numbers, silently inhale the odd numbers.

When you reach twenty, begin to inhale the word or feeling of silence, exhale the number nineteen; inhale the word or feeling of silence, exhaling eighteen…. Continue this pattern of counting until you reach zero. When you reach zero you will practice sitting in silence observing the natural flow of your breath like the natural flow of the moment.

Let’s begin the practice … sit in a "comfy" chair or on the floor. Settle into your seat by relaxing the souls of your feet, legs and buttocks a lot. Let the weight feel heavy in your elbows and your shoulders soften. Feel your face muscles (all your personality muscles) soften even more. Staying awake, gently close your eyes for a few long deep breaths intuitively knowing when to return to these instructions.

At your own pace begin on your exhale silently saying to yourself "fifty". Inhale silently saying "forty-nine", exhale silently saying "forty-eight". Inhale silently saying "forty-seven", exhale silently saying "forty-six". Continue counting backwards and breathing long and deep until you reach twenty. At twenty, inhale the feeling of silence, exhale "nineteen". Proceed here, inhaling silence, exhale "eighteen". Inhaling silence, exhaling "seventeen" … and continue until you reach the count of zero. At zero, sit quietly and observe the space you have created. Notice how you feel and move into the sacred space that you have created.

Hey if you have time, let me know how it worked for you. I am curious.

With much love,

Megan