I’m excited to share that after 800+ hours, twenty four years of teaching, + two and a half years of school, I am now officially a Certified Integrative Yoga Therapist aka C-IAYT! It has been an incredible journey of learning, practice and true commitment. Not unlike the discipline I needed to be a ballerina!

I am hanging out a new shingle, Willow Oak Wellness! I’ve been teaching Pilates for twenty six years! Adding to that now is somatic movement, trauma informed yoga, meditation, and breath work, and BBTRS a body based trauma release. My practice is built around helping people manage stress, burnout, and pain through personalized nervous system care and therapeutic movement. I help you discover your own strengths and together we create a program suited for your lifestyle.

As I work to build Willow Oak Wellness’s presence locally, I wanted to start by giving something back — specifically to the mental health professionals and healthcare workers who carry so much of our community’s wellbeing on their own shoulders. I’m offering free classes designed for exactly that: stress and compassion fatigue relief for the people who spend their careers caring for others.

Each session includes breath work, movement, and relaxation — the foundational elements of yoga therapy — and I’ve built it for every level, whether you’re a longtime yogi or have never rolled out a mat. I’ve attached a flyer with the full details, which you’re welcome to pass along to any colleagues who might want to join.

Classes will be held at Christi Stewart’s beautiful space at 712 Lincoln St. Space is limited, so if you’d like in, just reply to this email and I’ll get you on the list.

BUT ALSO:

Starting September 1st, I am offering free health coaching. I am finishing up my studies with Stanford Medicine’s Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences. Yep! Stanford is leading the charge to integrate yoga therapy, health coaching, and traditional medicine. I need practice hours in order to sit for the National Board exam.

I’m looking for 10-15 people who can commit to a series of 5 sessions. Free of course! All can be done over Zoom. If you’re interested message me and we’ll get started because September is around the corner folks! Health and Wellness coaching is strengths based. As your companion on the road to change, it’s my job to support you in finding your way to a healthier lifestyle. We do this one baby step at a time making adjustments to suit your lifestyle.

Questions? Ask me! I’m here to help. In the meantime, check out the flyer about my class August 29th at 9:30AM and please share it with anyone in the healthcare or mental health fiend you think might benefit from a bit of stress relief!

Keep the Faith cuz it’s all yoga!

Kyra

When your child takes that first step towards realizing their ultimate dream and you have no control over the circumstances, that is the most exciting and frightening for me. It’s paralyzing. The fledgling launches and there’s nothing left for Mama bear to do for them on this side of the world. It melts the very soul of who you have been in order to transform them into who they will become. I have dogs and perhaps an inordinate amount of house plants (thanks Chastain!) to keep me occupied; however, it’s just not the same. Alas, here again is where the real yoga comes in. Dancing with the waves of change, trying to keep some form of balance through it all.

This part of life is not a waltz into the sunset, but rather a two step with constant shifting emotions: fear, deep love, worry, hope, and that ever present desire to control. That is where the yoga shows up. In my younger days as a teacher, I would ask people to leave their shoes and their worries at the door. We even had a sign saying something like that on the studio door at Yoga Masala. Now it’s different. The invitation is to bring all the things with you onto the mat. It could be your yoga mat, meditation cushion, church pew (or kneeler). It could even be a deer stand or a boat with an outboard motor. Maybe a beach chair, or any kind of car seat. The invitation is this: When we find ourselves in those moments with a flurry of emotions rolling through the soul, keeping us topsy-turvy invite them all in. As Rumi suggests in the poem, The Guest House, offer them a seat at the table. Perhaps we should suggest this to our government. Invite everyone to sit at the table and share and feel and listen and cry and laugh and bring all the pieces together for a time. Just see what happens. As my friend Jeremy says, no cherished outcomes. There will be a result and if we let go of the need to know what that is, it could be something more spectacular than we’ve ever dreamed. So my invitation this week is to bring all the pieces of your mind and your life together and sit with them. Just sit and watch. No need to push anyone away. No need to hold tightly to one more than the other because they will replace one another faster than we can believe. Some will get pushed overboard. Some will be saved, but in the end, it will always keep changing so best to make friends with them all.

The Guest House

Jalaluddin Rumi

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

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I’ve been struggling for the last few weeks with writing. Moving too quickly through the every day has kept me from seeing the magic all around. I was reminded of that this morning as I walked the beach before the sun rose. I was awed by the number of people standing, sitting, or lying down, holding hands, holding dogs, and hugging quietly as they waited patiently for the sun to rise. When I’m on this sacred ground in the fall, winter, or spring, I’m often the only soul from end to end. This morning was different. My heart was full of hope seeing so many people of all ages watching the miracle of the birth of a new day.

Lately I have been trying to slow down. Yodi says “Do or do not. There is no try,” but where’s the room for the old college try? Or the baby steps that falter until a new habit has been formed? Life moves too fast, stress builds, and I wonder what am I doing with this one existence. The persistent feeling of time slipping away nags at my mind. My mother turned one hundred a few weeks ago. Yes, 100 years old! It brought to mind a question: what would I do if I knew I had another 40 years? So I’d like to pose that question to you: If you were at the midpoint of life, I guess that’s relative. Some would say 40 others 50 in East Indian culture it’s 60. So pick your place in time. What would you do if you had another forty, fifty or sixty years to live? Would you keep up the limitations that our sociocultural norm imposes on us? Or perhaps be a maverick and break barriers? How about picking up painting, writing or traveling? Even a new sport! Start a whole new career? Go back for that masters or PhD? The questions are endless but they are still merely questions until we act.

The last four years in particular have been full of musings. How can someone my age do X, Y, or Z? The youthfulness of my spirit gets upset with the rationale of my age and creates a logjam in my mind. No zesty energy moving forward. Nothing happens in either direction. The one thing that remains is time wasted on worry. One of the hallmarks of the eight limbs of Yoga is the Niyamas. They are your personal values or perhaps it’s better said the things that you can practice to keep yourself in check. The one that comes to mind is svadyaya, pronounced just like it’s spelled! It’s the practice of self reflection. Not self criticism, self judgment, or navel gazing, rather it’s self study. The ability to observe one’s actions and thoughts from a distance. What I’m saying here is if you are practicing self reflection in any area of your life, you’re doing Yoga. Not the hot, sweaty kind, not the sitting cross legged levitating kind, but the real kind. The yoga that helps you walk through your days with a little more ease. The kind that allows you space to be human without being penalized or judged. The kind that helps make the waves of life a little easier to surf. So on this beautiful sunny day as the sun gently rises from the ocean I leave you with this question: if you had more time and less fear what would you do if you lived to be one hundred?

Keep the Faith,

Kyra

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I’d like to tell you a little bit about this picture. This is a blanket full of squares, but it’s no ordinary blanket and it’s so much more than squares. See, my soon-to-be 100 year old Mother made this and it’s only one of many. A few years after my Father died, Mom moved into a retirement community. In her own apartment. As she would say I don’t want to go there because there's only one way out.…. 

She had been in her apartment making friends and dinner dates for about fourteen months when Covid hit. When you think about what it took out of us and our children, we have no idea how it impacted the older generation. The isolation. Trapped in their own thoughts. It stunted her social skills and made life very lonely. I will share one fun thing. Mom was part of a rogue group of folks who defied the administration and met, social distancing of course, for a drink every night at 5pm! B.Y.O.B. naturally. Once they got caught, they would find a different location. Can you imagine the octa and nonagenarians peeking around corners, silently stealthily meeting at various rendezvous points? Arriving quietly, sitting with smirks behind their masks? But of course the volume of the conversation would never give them away 🙂

Mom has been a needle gal her entire life. Cross stitch samplers, needlepoint kneelers for the church, monogrammed beach towels for graduation gifts, smocked dresses for me, blazers with the help of Mrs. Rhodes, the rug in her den which my brothers helped with, and of course the sweaters! Her knitting has always been incredible. It’s been a few years since Covid and many of the rowdy crowd have moved on to the next life, but Mom is still there with the Pub as her only highlight; however, there is one thing she does that will surely land her a kneeling cushion in Heaven (if there’s not one already there). She still knits. Every day. She often postulates between stitches. Why am I still here? I tell her we need her wisdom and insight. She says what do I know, then takes another stitch. I tell her we all love her and need her. She says for what as she winds the yarn around her arthritic and beautifully gnarled fingers. I say it’s just nice to hear her voice. She says I’m sorry I’m such a burden, I assure her that her voice is music to our ears and that she is not a burden. She is truly the most independent little old lady, L.O.L, in her retirement community. 

Here’s the thing about the knitting and the blanket. She made that. The one in the picture is only the latest. She has been knitting squares for the last seven plus years. Every day she gets up, sits on her couch and knits. Some days she'll make two squares. Other days a part of one. Were we to add them all up no doubt she has knit over three thousand. Each square is stitched together and given to cancer patients. Each square becomes a lifeline for someone. It struck me yesterday when that picture arrived on my phone. Think of all the love and determination that gets wrapped around someone sitting in a cold sterile clinic. That someone is mainlining poison to save their lives. I have heard the bone chill of chemo is frightening. Imagine being offered a blanket. Having a nurse wrap you up in the warmth of that love and determination? You wait for the IV to drip its last drops of venom into your veins. The venom like a snake coiling around your entire body suffocating the cancer. Killing it enough so you can make it your child's next birthday. Your child who is five or fifteen or fifty. Enduring the onslaught of nausea, sores and discomfort in hopes that your own cells will fight their way back and life can be yours again. When it’s time to leave the clinic, you start to hand the blanket back to the nurse. She says for you to keep it. It’s a gift. With the blanket around your shoulders, you sit your weary bones in the car and lean heavily against the window as you drive away from this place you hate. This place you love. This place that will decide your future. Little do you know that as you drive away you are encircled with someone else's passion. 

Each time you visit the cold and cavernous clinic, you take your blanket. You remember the feeling of love that held you through the suffering. It becomes a part of you. It’s either on your shoulders, your lap, or in your go bag. If you are fortunate enough to beat the disease, you put the blanket on a shelf and each time it catches your eye it reminds you of the warmth that was handed to you that day. When you have moved on from this life, your loved ones will see that blanket and remember how it gave you such comfort. How you would ask for it. They will take it off the shelf, hold it, smell it, kiss it. They will feel you in it. At home they will wrap it around themselves and feel your presence.

So when my Mother says I don’t know why I am here. This is where my mind goes. This is one of the reasons she keeps on keeping on. This is sustaining her. She is infusing each square with her entire being. Her love and determination will live long past her own imagination. The very thing that is her purpose has a butterfly effect. My teeny tiny Momma, 4’ 8” and all 86lbs, with her passion for knitting and her obsession with perfection has become the very thing that she seeks. Warmth. Comfort. Love.

Happy Birthday Mom,

I love you 💕

In those moments the magic is palpable. A sublime intimacy. The entire company lines the room. The Artistic Director, rehearsal director, conductor, pianist, and sometimes donors and friends of the big boss all sit in the front. If there was a guest choreographer they might be there as well. Twyla Tharp. Mark Morris. For the big classical ballets, we’d have Russian counterparts to our artistic staff. We all feel the hope of a good run. The weight of that responsibility fills the air. All of the team minus the sets, costumes and audience. It is raw. Pure dance. Flinging sweat from bodies and occasionally from the nose. Not glamour as some might think. Rather something better, passion so deep it feels like blood.

The day begins with class. Hopefully with everyone’s favorite teacher. A hot sweaty room full of artists warming their bodies and honing even the simplest of steps. There’s joviality and camaraderie. In my case, I was often caught trying to out jump the men, or to find just the right pointe shoe for the moment. At the end of class, the tricks. Always the tricks. Those en pointe with thirty-two fouettes; the step that all ballerinas must perfect. The men in their double tours and manèges around the room. The air, oozing with the freedom that comes from having finely tuned your instrument for the day. After class, about five minutes to quickly run and change out of the wringing wet class attire into something appropriate for the role you are about to perform. Something to make you feel beautiful. To help you become the part. Then everyone takes their places.

The Maestro’s baton descends and we begin. They conduct alongside the rehearsal pianist while turning pages of the score, and muttering to each other as the music swells. The energy of the dancers fills the room in a way that can make even a teetotaler drunk with enthusiasm for the dance. It’s the amalgamation of hours of rehearsal and continuous improv combined with the fiercest passion. Dance is not just the pretty pictures that you see. It’s deep love. It’s yearning to become the music.

I share all this because it feels apropos at this moment. How many times do you, we, think about the end game and not the path? Do you worry about the final result or do you practice living every day with that kind of intensity? The show is the show, but all the hours that we put into it are just as important if not more so. Each step on the road to the goal carries weight. In the world we currently inhabit, many of us are looking to an end, but what if each step we took between now and then had just as much value? Can we stay in this moment and continue to put one foot in front of the other with the kind of faith and passion we hope will be waiting for us down the line?

I’m reminded of the movie, The Way. Four strangers meet walking El Camino de Santiago. They all come for very different reasons, but have the same goal, to get to the end. The beauty of the film is how they interact with one another and what they come to understand about themselves along the way. The question, or challenge if you prefer, is how can we use the tools we have to keep us in the flow of life? When the goal is too much, have you found yourself on the periphery watching as others stay the course and wondering how they do it? It’s practice. It’s using the means we have at our fingertips. Yoga and Life offer all that we need. It’s up to us to find the right tools and use them with consistency. To practice how we want to be, so when the time comes we take wise action. Take out your toolbox and use it in even the smallest of ways. Know your tools. And just like in the ballet, become them.

A few simple practices to help:

1. Breathe. No special way. No grand lecture on how it’s done. Just slow down, put the phone down, and actually feel your breath go in and out.

2. Stop. Stop worrying about the to-do list, the phone calls, and returning texts instantly. Tomorrow is not on the calendar. When you feel overwhelmed, can you stop long enough to really see what’s in front of you?

3. Do the loving thing. Practice that. Instead of being right or having the last word, can you just do the loving thing?

That’s it for now. Keep the Faith,

Kyra

Sidenote: In a performance of Mark Morris’s Mort Subit, I jumped fiercely into the air and became a soutè. When I landed, I crumpled to the floor and rolled off teh stage. The Artistic Director, Bruce Marks, came back afterwards and asked me what happened. I said “I became a soutè. He looked deep into my eyes and said, “Yes, yes you did.” I’ll never forget that moment. The earnestness. I bared my soul and he understood.

To celebrate the mother of all creativity, I thought I’d share about one of my favorite creative coaches, the writer, editor, memoirist, and co-creator of the Imaginative Storm writing method, Allegra Huston, and her recent TEDx talk. The theme: Imaginative Intelligence.

I can’t even remember how I came upon it, but somehow I stumbled into her online writing class. It happened on a Saturday. An incredibly beautiful and multifaceted group of writers coalesced to dig out the antiquated dreck that dams up our creativity. Allegra and her co-creator, James Navé break down all the fabricated barriers of sentence structure and propriety so we can run wild and free with our thoughts.

Our Saturday posse of people are dedicated to unlocking all that is locked up in our minds, using their Imaginative Storm method. It goes something like this: See a picture, write what comes to mind, share one thing, write 10 minutes, share again. The final act is conjoining whatever line each individual chooses into a poem. Voila an exquisite storm is born.

The method is brilliant. Allegra and Navé graciously pull it out of us. Navé worked with Julia Cameron, creator of The Artist Way for many years. He’s famous for his slam poetry. Also, his unbelievable way of teasing out a line of words and drawing them into a circle, maybe even a thicket, then into a cloud, amble with them along an old road, drop down into a rabbit hole and poof, you’ve entered a whole other universe! His on the spot artistry will ignite even the leftist of us two left footed artists. Allegra and her imagination full of emotion, depth, and soul will carry you into a different realm in a way that can unsettle and still soothe at the same time. You might want to check out her memoir “Love Child.”

When I heard Allegra would be in Asheville giving a TED talk, I had to go. I have a passion for being live in the room as people reveal their goods. An event where people are unabashedly themselves sharing their life’s work on the stage? That’s my jam. Any form of creativity feeds me. So here was my New Mexico residing inspiration on this side of the world. I was all in!

As any neophyte, I was nervous. I was going in person to meet the writing world equivalent of Meryl Streep. Well spoken, brilliant, kind, and with that undeniable air of mystery. I was anxious, friends! We had planned to meet at my favorite Indian Restaurant, Chai Pani. I was staying with a dear friend and included her, which made me even more nervous. Would these worlds of mine collide or coalesce? All those unhelpful thoughts swam through my head. “Don’t mix groups.” “Some friends don’t belong together.” Who did I think I was, anyway? The undercutting negativity that swam alongside my optimism (barely treading water) was waiting to take me down. The first moments were tense. There was trouble parking. Should we go somewhere else? I felt the jitters jostle their way through my ever sensitive nervous system.

But what happened could only be described as surreal. Introductions were made, the edge was removed by the warm chai and the fabulous food. The two worlds didn’t collide. Instead they created bridges opening up possibilities and pipelines not just for those at the table. The collateral connection was sublime. This meeting of the minds was nothing short of magical. It was a Renaissance for my long lost artistic soul. The conversations wound from Asheville to Africa and back to Lake Eden. The day took us on a journey of introductions and innovative thinking. All the while the yogi in me was chanting the mantra “just this moment.”

It was heavenly – a faithful reminder to myself that I was an artist and I still am. Truth is, we all are. So many types of artists. Something for everyone! Some with brushstrokes, others with numbers, or spices and seasonings, maybe sounds. How about the gardener, the barista. And of course the genesis, the mother of all arts, the written word.

I kept reminding myself to breathe. We all know that staying with the flow of life can be hard. Oftentimes I find myself sitting down in the past or swimming ahead to the future. My practice that day was simply the act of staying still. Being in the moment. Listening. Learning. Leaning in. Witnessing life and connection. Experiencing moments unfold that will never happen again, and might never have happened without a bit if courage on my part.

Driving home from that weekend I let my thoughts return to the magic as I recalled moments and feelings, and still the yogi in me kept remembering that all of life can be just that poetic and rich if we let ourselves see it that way. The hectic day-to-day sidelines the exquisite storm of life. Imagine if we all let our imaginations run wild and fashioned that creativity into all aspects our lives? Think of just how rich each interaction might be? So without further ado, I strongly recommend you watch Allegra’s TED talk.

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Here’s Allegra’s website. Here’s Navé.

You have an intelligence you may not be using—one that guides you in living a life true to your deepest self… begins her Ted Talk

And of course The Imaginative Storm Method

Keep the Faith and remember it’s all yoga!,

Kyra

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Saturday May 9th at 9AM

Resilience & Regulation for Healthcare Professionals

For those of you that don’t really know me my name is Kyra Strasberg, and I am a Mind-Body Interventionist. A former ballerina turned yoga therapist, with training in Pilates, somatic yoga, meditation, mindfulness, and breath work. I help people experiencing stress, burnout, and chronic pain feel more at ease in their bodies through personalized, nervous system–focused care and therapeutic movement. Basically, I help people get out of their heads so they can feel good in their own skin.

I’m offering a free class for local mental health professionals and healthcare workers who may be experiencing stress or compassion fatigue on May 9th at 9am

This class will include the core elements of yoga therapy: centering, breath work, gentle movement, and relaxation. The movement is accessible to all levels of fitness so there’s no prior yoga experience needed.

Location:
712 Lincoln St, Suite C

→Here is the link to sign up←

Once you register, I’ll send you a waiver in advance so you can simply arrive and settle in! Space is limited to 10 participants, so be sure to reserve your spot.

If you know anyone that might be interested, please feel free to share!

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I’m honored to offer support to those who give so much to others. 💚

Sunday May 10th Mother’s Day Class 3:30pm at Jamie Scott Fitness

I’m super excited to be teaching a special class for all you Mom’s out there!

Whether 2 legged or four, infant or adult, you are always taking care of someone other than you, correct? Come treat yourself to a little yoga class designed for women by a woman!

Come breathe, move, and give yourself the space you so rarely claim. Let the weight of it all melt away as I guide you through a nourishing and empowering experience for both your body and your mind. You’ll leave feeling refreshed, reconnected, and more like you again—ready to step back into the “Mom” role with greater ease, energy and grace for whatever life sends your way.

You deserve this. Come be taken care of. Register here.

Sunday May 10th at 3:30pm

I have found lately that there is so much unsettlement that I need to just stop what I’m doing sometimes and reset. Numb out. The phone is not the best answer, but I am simply a human in the year 2026 with a Dick Tracy watch waiting for Scottie to beam me up. And so it goes…

Speaking of unsettlement. I learned of this term empathic unsettlement listening to this episode of On Being called Seeing the Trauma of the Other. It is in a sense witnessing someone else’s trauma without identifying with it, yet it leaves you unsettled. It shifts you. It is how we, the listener, stay emotionally engaged and responsive. We can respect the differences between us and let’s say the victim, for lack of a better word at the moment, and not appropriate their experience or commandeer their story. You know what I’m talking about, right?

How many times have you been in conversation with someone when they turn your situation into theirs? Let’s say for instance, hypothetically, you are sharing a story of the spigot breaking on a Saturday morning. Doing a little home repair, feeling good about being your own fix-it person when the flood gates open. The spigot breaks clear through and water gushes out in your face and up your nose. Your yard becomes a landslide. You can’t turn the water off and you are freaking out. Then Suzie Que says “Oh my God! That happened to me two weeks ago. It was so crazy, blah blah blah.” So instead of hearing what happened to you and feeling your pain, she’s made it all about her and turned it into a fun story. No empathy. And it’s now, in a way, an ego thing for her, perhaps insecurity, or maybe just a lack of awareness. (Perhaps this was a fluffy example but it really can be quite a heavy concept.)

My point with this is that if we as a species could just be a little bit more empathetic when someone’s story unsettles us, we might all get along a little better. It’s a far more authentic way of connecting. In the language of today it might be called “holding space” for another person’s trauma while letting it bother you without having to “do” anything in that moment. If we actually let things bother us, we might begin to affect real change in our own lives and those in our communities. Imagine that?

I recently heard Percival Everrett speak about his book “James.” As he was describing the black experience in America, in particular the South, I was unsettled. His words were matter of fact and profound. They were the truth. A beautiful young black woman next to me was offering some observations on his commentary. She helped me feel more deeply. Both of their words landed and hit hard. I felt compelled to share something with her, but as a white woman it wouldn’t do anything but make me look stupid. So I didn’t. I was unsettled, haunted really, by the ugly truth of the enslaved peoples of our country. During the course of the event, I witnessed white people saying things they deemed “correct”, I assume. But why? To let him and all the black people in the audience know they empathize? My personal belief is that this is one topic where we white folks really need to hear, feel unsettled, keep our mouths closed, and let the discomfort change us. Maybe use that empathy to acknowledge the past and not try to make it go away. Could we use it as a guide to greater truth and genuine compassion? Could we turn empathy into action?

I got kind of heavy this week. The broken spigot was the real deal. Thank God I had my glasses on! The question is how do we align our values and our actions in the middle of life’s certainties? It starts with practice. It starts small. Real small. One little itty bitty change. Could be almost imperceptible, but it can be the ground floor of our awakened foundation.

Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither is self awareness.

This week my suggestion is to pick one thing:

This breathing

Or this one

Maybe this movement to start your day

Try one on. Tell me how you like it. Maybe it doesn’t fit you right now and that’s ok! It doesn’t mean you’re not good at it or that you “can’t” do it. My teacher says “the pose is what you’re doing. The yoga is how you’re being in the pose.” So transpose that into a tough conversation, or something you find triggers you. My example with the spigot: The cussing and screaming and crying was what I did at first, and my practice of yoga off the mat is what helped me see the solution and remedy the situation.

“Life is what you’re doing: yoga is how you’re being in your life.”

Keep the Faith with so much love,

Kyra

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I highly recommend Percival Everett’s “James”

On Being about empathic unsettlement

I promised you a video support with some breath practices to help with the dopamine do-over. So here is one. Try it on. No pressure. Nothing special. Just a little something to use when you need a reset. Let me know what you think!

In the meantime, I’m cleaning up from the big spill and taking a moment to celebrate the win! Thanks to my Bigbro and my yoga! More to come!

A little coherent breathing to support change!

Keep the Faith cuz it’s all yoga!

Kyra

It’s hard. Habits are hard to break. With sustained effort for just 7 days we really can make a difference, yet here I am again starting over. Why is it so hard? I have to keep reminding myself that a fresh start is not failure. It’s a blessing. A good and challenging perspective for a recovering perfectionist, eh?

Have you found it a bit too much of a free-for-all with the Stop, Drop, Breathe thing? I have so I’ve found some other hacks to help, but first let’s discuss dopamine shall we? It is our internal reward system. The proverbial every-child-gets-a-trophy neurotransmitter. I mean that. Dopamine undirected will give you a sense of satisfaction for scrolling, posting, finishing the mini crossword in under 40 seconds, or absolutely anything else for that matter. Is that constant hit good? In this age of catastrophic phone addiction and AI, many of us have lost our ability to get the feel good hormone from simple steady things. The ordinary is beneath us. The routine has lost its comfort. Instead of finishing a project no matter how small, we get distracted by the ping, follow the urge, roll into action, get the hit, do the unsavory deed, get the hit, and afterwards feel a bit like poo because we allowed ourselves to waste our precious time and energy. You get my drift.

When our dopamine is out of whack we feel lethargic, unmotivated or even depressed. Hence the reason I am working on ways to reset it. The phone habit is real for me and drenching myself in dopamine does not help. This chemical messenger is like peer pressure egging me on, creating a sense of needless need propelling me towards some nothing. Not always good. Notice it’s about the process as much as it is the actual arrival. Dopamine rises when you think about the thing. It’s the prospect as much as it is the performance. Eventually it rewires your brain into needing the rush to feel alive. Being continually overstimulated has caused my brain to lose sensitivity, and this is where the depression and lethargy come in. We can’t get moving unless we’ve gotten the high and even then sometimes we still can’t rally. This is why everyday things feel blasé.

So the dopamine do-over is an opportunity to regulate the urge and re-balance the brain so the little things can begin to feel like a lot again. Remember those days as a kid watching the clouds. The shapes that lit our creativity on fire enough to motivate us into playing for hours? Imagine having an imagination instead of today’s endless input from external sources…

I think my thought about the urge was an oversimplification, but not entirely incorrect. If I feel the excitement as I move towards something untoward (couldn’t resist that one) or something I know will only sidetrack me, I need to course correct. The Stop, Drop, and Breathe is a good one. BUT…..it could have a little more umph to back it up. An addition to help with focus. I’ve found two different breathing patterns that really help. One is counting the breath and the other is coherent breathing. Both are good. It’s simply a matter of choice. (I’ll be posting those in a few days, so hold on!)

Here’s a real time example: As I am writing this I feel the urge to do a bit more research about dopamine, flip back to the other ten open tabs on my laptop, add a few words to my Spelling Bee, grab a snack, some water, maybe get up and walk around. The latter will get me in trouble because I know I’ll pick up my phone for a minute to add those words and then realize it’s been an hour. So what did I do? Closed my eyes, did a little breathing and was able to return to writing and stay with my own train of thought instead of looking outside for support. THAT IS A BIG WIN!!!

Maybe this is of no interest to you, but I do feel that we are all in some way addicted to an unsustainable system that our culture encourages. Know more. Do more. Learn it on TikTok.

Why, you ask, is this in a column called It’s All Yoga? Well there’s this thing called self-study. The Sanskrit word is swadyaya. I don’t mean the type of navel gazing the youth of today indulge in so often. I’m talking about the kind where one seriously looks at how their actions/inactions are affecting their life and the lives of those around them kind of self study. Working on the flaws. Seeing them for what they are. Not running from them or projecting them onto other people. Sitting with them with kindness and curiosity. Progress, not the trophy. That’s what it’s all about. I’m merely suggesting that there are a few things that might help. I’m trying them on one at a time to see if they do.

In the end it’s all about safety believe it or not. When your brain feels safe it will begin to reengage with life. Speaking of re-engaging in life, when was the last time you called a friend instead of texted?

My question for you is this: Are you happy with your relationship to your phone? If so, go for it! I know many of you are! If not, let’s keep working together to make a change that’s good for all the people in our lives. It’s almost like a chance to be reborn in a way. To see connection with new eyes. Remember this is not about forcing discipline on yourself. It’s about finding ways to help your brain get what it needs to feel and fully present with life in a steady, sustainable way.

Keep the Faith!

With so much Love,

Kyra

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Here’s this week’s opportunity:

When you get the urge to engage in that unhealthy-for-your-brain-behavior, STOP. Yep. Stop. Put on the brakes. Or maybe ride the brakes. In some cases, slam those puppies into the floorboard. Perhaps even throw down the phone! We want to create interoceptive awareness. What is that, you ask? It is your body’s ability to pick up on the information it receives and then act accordingly. The idea is to feel the rush and do nothing more than observe it. Breathe with it. Sit with it. DO NOT SCROLL. It’s all what you choose, without letting it choose for you.

If you need help with a hard reset maybe do this breathing technique used by special forces to drop the anxiety and feel the focus. (I’ll bring this back up in the future. Got questions? Ask! I’m here for you!

Notice where you feel the urge, where you feel that stimulus. For me most times it’s in my head. Find where the feeling lives inside of you. Again breathe. Breathe into the feeling. Don’t do anything just breathe. I will say it again. Breathe! Try not to follow the urge. Just watch. Watch your mind, your senses, your desire. The final step is to choose. You have all the power you need if you allow yourself to slow down and be conscious of what is happening. You can control this dopamine deliveries destination. You have the power!!!

Instead of mindlessly moving ahead towards the next thing, for the next hit, slow it down. Choose how you want your dopamine to be delivered. Maybe in a healthier way? I’m not saying it’s easy but remember 7 out of 10 times is all it takes to change a neural pattern and make a healthy habit. How about this for the mantra: Stop. Drop, and Breathe.

Let’s see where it lands us. What do you say? I’ll let you in on a little secret, I’ve been trying this a bit and when I do, I feel so much better. Notice the word “trying.” Means it’s not always working and I ain’t perfect. I’d rather be doing it in community. I’d love it if we could hold each other accountable. Are you in? It’s tough, but together we can do anything. Maybe as our world is fracturing, we can find small ways to create connection.

Let’s cheer each other on just seven days y’all let me know how it’s going.

Remember when you feel the desire, stop and breathe instead of diving in, pause, notice and then choose. 💪🏼

Keep the Faith! With so much love,

Kyra 🦋

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~ Rumi

There’s a whole lot more to this poem, but for the purposes of my musings today, I’m going to keep it there. There are these axioms we feel compelled to live by come hell or high water. Honesty. Wise Effort. Practice Makes Perfect (that word is my kryptonite). Even “Do more yoga.”

But how do we do it? How does one stay the course of trying not to “sin” and yet allow oneself to be human. Where do we fit in? How can we feel a sense of belonging when it’s uncomfortable being in our own skin? I believe moving helps. Getting the blood to flow even the tiniest bit can shift our perspective and you mood. Nature helps too. In nature, the self disappears into something far, more magnificent. That’s where I’m heading today.

This time of year I am mesmerized by the beauty of tiny green leaves unfurling in the midst of the yellow haze of Mother Nature’s semen. Pollen. It chokes us, blocks us up and stops us up. It makes your words stick in your throat, but to the harbingers of spring its mother‘s milk. In the midst of Gaia’s glorious orchestra, we are but a blip. I don’t mean that cynically. It’s true. As the moist pungent soil gives way, delicate shoots push through and grow with a speed that’s hard to keep up with. I watch, flowers turn into tiny green buds. When I blink, a tree is covered. How did it happen so fast?

As the undulations of nature surround me, this new life becomes the very thing I breathe. Inhaling the wonder, my discomfort shrinks, the separation disappears and I am a witness to the splendor. Even inside this thin covering of flesh, I feel the magnificently insignificant, yet holy place, I inhabit as a part of this glorious earth.

In those moments, my soul finally settles into this temporary home. Peace is no longer elusive, I feel it in my bones. As life‘s preciousness expands, I can finally reside in the exquisite unnameable and simply be. Pain lessens. For some it may even disappear. The drone of the bees, the song of each fat robin, the pink sky bursting through the night, it’s all a place for our souls to rest. Isn’t recovering that sublime connection what we all desire? I do.

So the question is how? How do we stay the course in this spectacular state? How can we recalibrate when overwhelm darkens the eyes? How do we change how we get our dopamine? Can we reorient and allow nature to be what gets us off?

Our world is filled with ten thousand million ways to distract us. Hundreds upon hundreds of ways to seek that dopamine hit without even getting out of the chair. We sin on the way to the occasion. That means just thinking about checking your likes, your email and your Spelling Bee stats, gives you a bump so why do anything else? I am convinced without a doubt that my addiction to that brilliant pocket computer is a large part of my depression. Folks, I am taking this seriously. I am actively working on a reset. A rebalance if you will. I’ve come up with a few ideas and I’d like your thoughts. Or better yet, you can join me on this journey to a Dopamine Do-Over. Undo the damage. Decline the temptation and see if the mood changes (a little secret here: i’ve been working on this a bit, nascent stages but it seems to be helping).

So here’s the ask: Want to join me and see if it makes a difference in your life?

I’ll be offering a weekly suggestion. Try something for a few days and see if it helps. I learned something fascinating recently. If you try something seven out of ten days in a row, you can change the behavior! It’s amazing, right? Even if you are totally unconvinced but make the commitment, you could very well start a great new habit! Who’s in?

For this week, we start small. Just notice. Notice the desire. How does it feel as you start to reach for the phone? The iPad? The remote control? Do you get all tingly and feel a surge of energy? Can you just sit with that part of it? Take some deep breaths and see if the impulse will pass? Give it a try. Later in the week I’ll share a teeny tiny little breath practice to help.

Who’s in? Together we can do great things! I believe in you! Let’s do it! Keep the faith friends, with so much love,

Kyra

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An epic fail.

I thought I had it all sorted out. You know the cliches, some I mentioned last week, “Take a breath” “Notice what’s coming up.” “Where am I feeling it in my body?”, and all the other yogi brouhaha. All to try and not do the purely human thing that we do sometimes – react. Then one day this past week I realized, with the help of a dear friend, that I was numbing out on all of it. My practice had become so full of all the “right stuff” that it felt regimented, militaristic. I was all in it for the duty of doing and not the beauty of being. Last week I wrote about spiritual bypassing, this week it’s a confession: Hello my name is Kyra and I’m a spiritual bypasser.

I think it’s time that I shared the truth because I believe that keeping it in is not healthy. The only way for any of us to really heal is to embrace who we are. So here goes: for about the last year I have been struggling with depression. The circumstances around it are a bit unusual. I was married to my therapist, which should never have happened, but our system is broken. He gaslit me, in unbelievable ways, into believing I was a pathological liar. Our entire marriage. I kid you not – six days in he tore into me. It wasn’t until after I left when I discovered he had been the liar all along. Accusing me of flirting, when he had been cheating our entire relationship. I think projection is what they call it.

Last Monday left me undone. I found myself in a pile of tears and tissues. Yes, on the sofa of my new fabulous female therapist’s office. I think it’s important to share my story because I am using the tools that I know from all of the disciplines I’ve studied to bring myself back. To claw my way out of the hole and into the beauty of life. Life with all its tousled emotions and chaotic mine fields that we tiptoe around every day. Some of us try so hard to avoid the misstep that we are literally blind to the sublime reality that encircles us, always.

I’ve been numbing out on so many things. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I think most of us do to some extent. We numb out on the phone, on TV, on drugs and alcohol, on religion, and yes, even on Yoga. I was doing all the things just right, the morning rituals, the meditation, the movement. Also of course, in my case, the constant self-censorship. Did I say that with enough kindness, why did I yell at that driver they might be on the way to the hospital, bad yogi. You get what I’m saying here.

I was just going through the motions riddled with guilt for not living that purely perfect yogic life.

I was doing everything perfectly, but there was no me inside. I’m a recovering perfectionist (if you can’t tell) worried about every last thing. But you see, I’ve got to be the one to take the pressure off of me. No one else can. Nor can all “the things” if you’re doing them out of obligation or obeisance to some long held unexamined belief. I am proof. You would think at sixty, I’d be over that s**t. You’d think that I’d have at least some of it figured out. That the words “how human of me” would be my mantra these days. Instead of “you idiot.” And that is the very point for this week’s reveal.

To a survivor, silencing your trauma keeps you living in a world of shadows. The more I leaned into that narrative the more he won. I’ve been keeping my mouth shut about it out of fear, like all survivors. We don’t say anything so we don’t make any waves, but I think holding it in, stuffing it down, and not being honest about it has really been a significant part of my depression. It keeps me in this dark hole of shame. I really don’t want this to determine my fate for the rest of this lifetime, but I think it’s important that I say it out loud. I wrote a book about it but had to use a pen name, so even still I had to hide what happened to me. That is how it is for most survivors. The shame keeps us quiet, the fear keeps us silent, while the pain eats us up.

I think my goal with this post is to share that even those of us with a lovely joyful exterior have snakes in the garden. I write about Yoga because I know I need more of it. Not the pretzely kind. The yoga that brings all parts of us together so we can live a life that’s honest, disciplined, and curious. An existence that has room for messy dishes, ugly cries, and ball gowns. I want to live gracefully in the eye of the storm, watching the chaos. To stand strong in the midst of the mayhem feeling the winds of life and riding them out with compassion for all of us.

I hope you’ll join me on this journey. The real yoga. The human kind.

Keep the Faith, pretty please,

Kyra

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Well, I have a lot to say.

As a kid I found a space, a place where I could say whatever I wanted to say and people would listen. Well they would see me and that made me feel heard. My every movement was a sentence, a thought, a feeling. I became a ballerina. Like a real ballerina. Like I was on stage with Nureyev, Fernando Bujones, Suzanne Farrell, Mark Morris. All names some of you will know and some won’t. Yes, I am dating myself, but I am proud of my years on this earth. My time in the sun. And the rain. So yes, I was an honest to God, high bun, pointe shoes, tutus kind of ballerina. My days were spent dancing, honing my body for my craft, watching, listening and being seen but not heard…

So here we are today, 2026. I have made a boatload of mistakes. There have been many happy accidents, lots of laughter, tears, cussing, drinking, late nights, early mornings and basically a lot of life well lived. Even the really really bad stuff. At least I lived through it and for that I am grateful! All the Earth Lessons as Joe would call it, on my way to getting my PhD in life.

For about the last 16 years I have been seeking, searching, looking, digging, hunting and probing the external. I pretended that I was looking inward, but I always set my gaze outward. Outward at who would see me, affirm me, recognize me, guide me and yes, even save me. Now that was, is, and always will be my BIGGEST MISTAKE. My goal here is just to be real. To let it all out. To open up a conversation with you and me and hold myself accountable. After all, in life the only person who will always be there for us, always be our bestie is our own little self. Or big self depending on your level of narcissism. You get my point? I spent way way too long ignoring the real me. Kind of like self flagellation, all that negative self talk hidden behind harsh words and mean actions. O boy, I hurt a boatload of people and for that I am deeply remorseful. Just so you know, karma came back around. I got mine. As we say down South, I got my comeuppance. I was no longer able to run away from a situation. I got trapped. Imprisoned. Truly, like locked up in a house of horrors. Every single kind of abuse at it’s most disgusting. Once I broke free and caught my breath a bit, I started looking in the rearview. It took a few years to be able to stand up and look back. To try and make sense of how I got in so deep. Boy do I have a huge rolodex to go through on my way to making amends. Have you ever seen “My Name is Earl?” Check it out and you’ll understand.

This song is a ballad for me when times get tough.

The cruelty and deception that imprisoned me most definitely opened my eyes. My point is that I know I’m not alone in this. I know other people have their own version of living hell. There is so much darkness out there, and if you let it, it will break you in ways that you didn’t know you could be broken. Sometimes it’s even disguised as the light. I am still struggling. I say this, not for pity, but because I am tired of the spiritual bypassing that is all around me. We are all struggling especially now. People are pretending things are okay, when inside we are all screaming. All the catch phrases, “Just let it go.” “Everything happens for a reason.” “Stay positive.” “That’s just your ego talking.” “Focus on being grateful instead.” I did it for sure, but in the process I totally neglected reality. As if I had blinders on I accepted it all, setting aside my very life. I gave up so many people and things I truly loved, that were part of the fabric who I am, because I was told I should for the sake of my marriage, my growth, my evolution. I mistakenly believed that if I was a REAL yogi, I should do it. So I “should-ed” all over myself.

I may start getting more graphic, more honest, more naked as I continue on this journey. It’s for me, and it’s for you. My hope with these musings is that I can help us open our eyes to embrace the beauty and the ugliness of this life. Kindness and goodness can and do live side by side with evil. How can we hold them both? It’s like they share a two family house in South Boston with one really thin wall. That’s it for now.

Oh wait, one more thing. No matter what, never stop believing in magic.

Keep the Faith,

Kyra

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Needless to say, I blew the interview. I was not prepared. I was feeling “less than.” Not following my own advice from my last post. But something interesting happened. I was asked what my personal practices were.

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That’s my simplified version of what the whole yoga thing is all about. Not the poses. They are a means to a much nobler and greater end. Now back to the beginning. Numero uno is AHIMSA. Do no harm. The Hippocratic oath. The ten commandments. It’s basic and it’s hard as hell. As easy as that seems there is a deeper layer to it. How about do no harm to yourself? Yes, even the slightest self criticism is violating the very first principle in yoga. Did you know that the Buddhists have no paradigm for self recrimination? It does not exist in their world. Now that’s a place I’d like to be. Somehow somewhere along the way, we humans decided it was helpful to be hard on ourselves. Maybe it’s about the need to achieve or an instinct to win. Whatever the case, it has not served me well that’s for sure. All the negative self-talk has only worn down my faith in myself. Do you know what that feels like? It’s pretty awful to be wishy-washy out of fear, and that fear arises from the right/wrong philosophy. If I’m not right, then I’m wrong.

Here’s what I’m working on this week: How can I be truly kind to others if I’m harming myself? Has the negative self-talk done me any good? It dampens my spirit, squashes my creativity, and depresses my energy. Why is it so hard to offer myself a kind word or helping hand? I’m going to do my best to change that voice and see what happens. When the mood dims during the day, I’ll remind myself that being alive is magnificent. When my inner critic decides to write a new review, I’ll kindly tell her that I have another author for that column. Want to join me?

Keep the Faith

With so much love,

Kyra

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The questions I ask: How did this happen? What was that all about? Why did I not see x, y, or z? What way back when, caused that thing in the future that looms? Was it blindness? Too headstrong? Full of know-it-all youth?

Part of this contemplation has to do with nature and nurture. Only girl, family of boys, deep South. I struggled to be heard. Who wouldn’t? Next to impossible to be taken seriously, but heard would have been nice. My father wasn’t a patriarchal man. In fact, his own mother held a portion of their family business and helped make decisions. Pretty damn progressive for the 50’s and 60’s. In a way, it feels like my own mothers’ constant deferring to Dad might have helped to create the vacuum that I lived in. One last thing from that perspective: Every time someone spoke highly of themselves I heard that it wasn’t appropriate. “Did you hear so-and-so? They sure think they are….”

Because of that I was constantly reminded that anything more than humility was insolence. But what do I know, right? Just the little sister by about nine years…

Because of that perhaps, confidence was in issue. I was taught that thinking “highly’ of oneself was being arrogant. But is it? Here’s by Merriam Webster deep dive:

Confidence: a feeling of self-assurance arising from one’s appreciation of one’s own abilities or qualities

Arrogance: the quality of having an exaggerated sense of one’s own importance or abilities.

So how could a child merely wanting to have an equal place in their family be considered arrogant?

After a lifetime of that mental battle against my own self worth, how does one build confidence in oneself? As I struggle to rebuild my life post abuse, I often hear the words of my abuser rumble through my head. “You think you know everything.” “Are you a doctor or something? Keep your flimsy opinions to yourself.” “Don’t ever say that to anyone, it makes you sound so stupid.”

Is confidence based on approval? Do we, as a species, have a need to be seen, heard and approved of in order to have value? Or can we quietly accept our successes and allow them to be the bedrock of our own worthiness? No applause needed. If so, where does community fit in? If we need each other to heal, if we need to belong in order to feel whole, then how important is it to have one’s achievements “heard,” if you will?

In this mess of a world we are living in right now, with smirks of self satisfaction being the photos that accompany most headlines, what are we to do? Strong is good. Head strong is not. A steady constant build to a personal achievement is a personal success worthy of sharing, but will it be considered hubris?

Where’s the yoga in all that you ask? It’s in the watching. The awareness. The witness that stands slightly behind, observing. When we take the time to think before we speak. To consider the other, the consequences, the cost of the desired outcome, that’s the yoga. Noticing how our actions interweave with the world. Not just in the moment but longer term. Unifying our lives with “the other.” Wanting today to be a peaceful day. There is so much unnecessary conflict in our world. Doing the best to be in the moment and doing what that moment calls for, that’s the yoga.

Keep the faith {in yourself ;)},

Kyra

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As Gandhi would say “be the change.” The question is how?

With all the changes happening almost every minute of every day (that we have no control over) who even wants to think about more changes? I certainly don’t. Do you? How can we be the change if we’re sick and tired of all the changing. What if we just want something to be the same? That’s what I’ve been grappling with, well, fighting with and, I must admit, I’m losing the battle. Time has been dragging me kicking and screaming into the present moment. Again and again. The one place where we all exist: NOW. I have but two choices: accept it or fight it and lose.

We all know nothing stays the same. But do you find yourself, wishing for some long forgotten time or simply for some decency?

The more I sit quietly in the middle of the s**t storm that is our country and our world right now, I see what it is I have to do. Do you? It’s clear as day and hard as hell.

Be the love.

If there is one thing in this world that you crave (not chocolate okay) what would it be? I think for most of us it’d be love and its siblings: kindness and compassion. It’s time for us to be the love and the change. It doesn’t have to be some monumental effort. All big things start small. All overnight successes have been years in the making. The change starts by saying hello, holding a door, and being curious. It’s time for us to offer the hand, hear the words, and see the people, all of them. I truly believe that many of the loud voices and big bad actions these days are because people weren’t heard. We’ve all felt invisible at some point in our lives. I know I have. It feels so good to be seen. What if we just started seeing each other? Offering our fellow humans the very thing we crave. Have you ever said to someone, “I see you.” Try it. I imagine some people will be so caught off guard they won’t know how to respond.

We have to be the love that we want to receive.

We must find the compassion and kindness in our own hearts.

We can do hard things.

Keep the Faith.

With so much Love,

Kyra

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Here is a fabulous episode of On Being with a clinical psychologist about what connection means to us as a species.

COVID forced us into a form of separation that is dangerous. In the effort to “fight for our lives” in isolation, we misinterpreted this short term need for a longer term solution. We lost our visceral connections to one another. The sensing of energy, the gentle beginning of a smile, being present as someone exhales, all these things allow us to soften. To release the armoring and to begin connecting. Many of us just don’t do that anymore. I self-isolate. I’m fearful. It’s way easier to hole up in my four walls than to let go of my fears and step out into the river of life.

And what are those fears anyway?

What we need more than anything is to be tended to. Not to be set upon and punished for being lost in disbelief. Madness is happening around us and it keeps us separate. It stops us from coming together, being kind, and helping each other which is exactly what we need right now. Even the biggest of bullies needs kindness. That’s why he’s a bully.

Yoga is coming together to support one another, to help one another, and to love one another. We need each other. The struggle is real: the cost of groceries, the cost of separation, the cost of not being a united people is creating so much anxiety and sadness. I think that’s why I cried every time I saw the monks. They were a small faithful group of people simply walking to remind us that we’re not alone. The lead monk with his staff was our shepherd reminding us to follow him. Just walk with peace as our goal, peace in our hearts, one step at a time.

What if this notion of peace is not some big disarmament. No cutting back of weapons. It’s disarming because it could be so easy. Leaders of countries are fighting for peace, meeting outside their own borders trying to create some sort of agreement. It’s way too complicated. What if peace was simply acknowledging someone on the street. Pausing for a moment, listening with your whole heart, acknowledging their life, and moving on. That’s what the monks did. Stopped. Listened. Handed flowers perhaps. Gazed into eyes. Took a breath [please take one yourself right now] and continued on. Look at all they accomplished. The power of such a small gesture.

People hope for blessings, people want them to return, they want to hear what’s happening with Aloka, but what if all we had was that one moment? Despite it being recorded on TikTok, YouTube and all the others, what they imprinted in our souls is something far more meaningful. A moment in time, one moment, one step. The impermanence of it is no match for the echo. A Nobel Peace prize would be great, but the peace has been created by these men who would stop at nothing to love each and every one of us.

Lay people that practice not only yoga, but also Buddhism and Hinduism are called yogis. What that means is they are trying to come together. To connect to their faith, their minds, their bodies, their humanity. So when I say that it’s all Yoga it is. We are all yogis striving to be seen and heard and loved and felt and acknowledged. Not discarded, not arrested, not separated or sent home, not jailed and definitely not beaten for offering a hand. Just humble people who want to be looked at for a moment, seen, and reminded that we are all one.

Keep the Faith,

Kyra

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Recently, I wrote about the Beloved Community. Here is a conversation between Civil Rights leader John Lewis and Krista Tippett. It’s from almost 10 years ago, but it feels more relevant than ever. It’s another way, a previous version if you will, to say what the Walk for Peace is saying now. Sometimes we must hear something a thousand times in a thousand different ways before it seeps into our bones and becomes the fabric of our lives.

Rep. Lewis’s invitation is to live as if it is already done.

I hope you take the time to listen.

It’s powerful, and so is peace.

Keep the Faith,

Kyra

A Conversation About Love in Action

When we were sitting in, it was love in action. When we went on the freedom ride, it was love in action. The march from Selma to Montgomery was love in action. We do it not simply because it’s the right thing to do, but it’s love in action. That we love our country, we love a democratic society, and so we have to move our feet.

~ Rep. John Lewis

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