April 7, 2025
Somah
How are you holding yourself through it all—through the beauty, the heartbreak, the urgency of these times?
I’ve just stepped into a new chapter—settling into my Bali home alongside my partner (now officially hubby!), Troy, of over 20 years. It’s a homecoming in many ways. In 2008, we launched the School of Sacred Arts (SOSA) in the most unconventional way— a crazy story perhaps to be told another time if you’re curious. My yoga teaching journey also began in Bali, during a time marked by inner upheaval and the external shock of the Bali bombings. Returning now feels like a spiral—closing one loop while opening another. (And yes, these times seem no less charged, though in different ways.)
The past eight months have been a whirlwind—leaving behind a beloved, quiet home base in Thailand that carried me through the pandemic years, then traveling across continents, reconnecting with family, friends, and teaching communities. From Thailand to Ireland, Halifax to New York, Vienna to London, and Switzerland to an unforgettable time in South Africa—where I met both big and “little(r)” cats (lions and tigers and cheetahs, oh my!), was graced by their majestic presence, and witnessed countless more wild beings (elephants and rhinos and giraffes, oh my!) in their natural habitat. It was a rare and profound thrill—one that cracked my heart wide open.
“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.”
Anatole France
I stayed at a beautifully run animal sanctuary dedicated to the care of both big and little(ish) cats, some who would never survive in the wild. I had the honor of meeting cheetahs, leopards, lions, servals, caracals, hyenas, wild cats, and genets—alongside a puma, a tiger, as well as foxes, wolves and more. Did you know cheetahs purr???
“The greatness of animals is that they are just themselves.”
Alice Walker
Alongside this awe, I was held by the immense generosity and hospitality of the South African people—people living across vast socio-economic landscapes, from great comfort to profound struggle. The racial divides remain stark, woven into the fabric of everyday life. It’s impossible to ignore the enduring impact of colonial history and apartheid, which “ended” when I was in my teens—a moment that rippled across the world stage. The consequences of that violent and divisive past are still deeply felt in policies, (lack of) opportunities, and lived realities today. And while South Africa’s history is unique, its themes are not. The legacy of colonization continues to shape nations across the globe—whether in the US, Canada, Central and South America, or Australia—where indigenous communities and marginalized groups still bear the weight of systemic injustice.
Understanding this history gives context and helps us recognize how these forces of domination and superiority continue to operate—often in plain sight. We need only look to the political landscapes shaping our world today, in ways that are both deeply troubling and alarming.
So what was my takeaway from this time? Beyond the breathtaking landscapes where our earliest ancestors once walked, the incredible wildlife, and the warmth of the people, I leave with a deeper awareness of my own privileges. And with that awareness comes responsibility—because even small actions, rooted in consciousness, can help shift these tides.
This journey was one of awe and reckoning—a confrontation with history, with privilege, and with the ever-present question of how to make a meaningful difference.
I came into this life with a soul-deep longing to tend to the wounds of the world—not through force, but through presence. To help restore harmony in a world that’s often forgotten its wholeness. To embody a way of leading that nurtures rather than dominates. To be a quiet force for equity, care, and healing in a world longing to remember its soul.
Over time, I’ve come to see that my way of doing this is by guiding others back to their own hearts and souls—helping them remember their place within the whole. Because it is here, in this deep recognition—like a hologram, where the whole is contained within each part—that we rediscover our shared humanity and reconnect to the sacred force that lives and breathes through us all.
“It is in your hands, to make a better world for all who live in it.”
Nelson Mandela
And yet, in a world caught in the grip of relentless pace and deep unrest, how do we make room to truly listen—to the whispers of the heart, the quiet truths of the soul?
Everywhere we turn, there is greed and grief. The political decisions of a few continue to cause suffering for billions. Climate change is no longer a distant concern—it is here, reshaping landscapes, disrupting lives, reminding us of our deep interconnection with the Earth. The weight of it all can feel like too much to bear. It’s easy to spiral into despair or to numb it all out.
But there is another way.
In times of turmoil, slowing down is not disengagement—it is an act of radical presence. It is a way of staying awake to what is happening without being consumed by it. It is a way of holding both the sorrow and the beauty, the devastation and the resilience.
🌿 What if your body isn’t asking for another strategy, but for deep listening—to yourself, to the world, to what is asking to be known?
🍂 What if not every emotion is something to fix, but a messenger inviting you to sit with what is, like a breeze moving through?
🌾 What if transformation isn’t something to force or meaning something to chase, but both reveal themselves when we slow down and create space?
This is exactly what Yoga Nidra teaches us—how to slow down, not as a form of retreat, but as a way to meet life more fully. In a world that often feels overwhelming, where suffering and uncertainty can leave us feeling powerless, these practices help us stay present without being consumed. They offer a way to hold both the turmoil and the beauty, to soften into stillness without disengaging, and to listen deeply for the unique way we are being called to show up in the world.
These practices help us attune to something larger than ourselves—to the cycles of nature, to the wisdom of the body, to the mystery of existence beyond human turmoil. They remind us that even in times of upheaval, we are part of something vast and sacred.
This is a space to restore, remember, and reawaken...together.
