Roots in the East

So I had the most magical visit to Massachusetts a girl ever could.

I stayed with fellow yogi Pat Banker, and put it this way: when I first arrived, we went straight to sun salutations in a park in Jamaica Plain. It was beautifully sunny, and I had just gotten off a red eye. Coffee in hand, we started jogging just to make sure we caught the sun rise. I don't know why, but my recently tamastic practice turned into 10 rounds of Surya A, then B, then I watched my California identity unravel as I entered pure being.

I got grounded. Grounded in the sense of understanding that certain attractions and connections are a fundamental part of my existence.

In many ways, the love of certain people (such as our most trusting family members and our most loyal friends).

A place that is familiar can be grounding.

But so is anything that brings us back to our truth, reminds us of our position in space and time
(feet gravitated towards the earth, now) is grounding.

The reiki that I received filled me with some earth and fire. 

Gyon mudra strung me to stability, as well as taking Jared Hirsch's last workshop of the year.

But most importantly, seeing my family brought me a better understanding of my life than ever before. Thank you for that.