I use extra cilantro, because I love it, and I omit the Kombu and sambal because I can’t find it. I also add rice noodles…and make it more of a meal. Enjoy!

Vegetarian Tom Yum Soup

2 stalks  lemongrass
1 quart low-sodium vegetable broth (like Whole Foods 365 brand)
3 lime leaves
1/2 inch sliced ginger
1/2 ounce kombu (about 3 small sheets, rinsed)
1 tablespoon brown sugar
1 tablespoon (or more)  sambal
2 tablespoons vegetarian fish sauce (or soy sauce)
4 cloves crushed garlic
1 cup tomato wedges
1 red pepper (sliced)
1 cup full-fat coconut milk  (like Whole Foods 365 brand)
1 1/2 cups sliced and quartered king oyster mushrooms
1/2 cup fresh cilantro
1 lime (quartered)

“Trim the ends off of the lemongrass and peel away the first two layers. With the back of your knife or a frying pan, beat the lemongrass until it splinters. Cut into 4 pieces and set aside. In a large saucepan, bring the broth to a boil with the lemongrass, lime leaves, ginger, kombu, brown sugar, fish sauce (or soy sauce), and garlic. Cover and reduce the heat to a simmer; allow this mixture to cook for 20 to 25 minutes. Strain out the solids leaving only a fragrant broth. Return the broth to the saucepan over medium heat. Add the tomato, red pepper, and coconut milk. Allow the tomato and pepper to warm through. Just before serving, stir in the king oyster mushrooms. (They’re easy to overcook and become rubbery of they sit in the hot broth for too long.) Ladle the soup into bowls and garnish with cilantro and a squeeze of lime. (Serves 4 as a starter and 2 for dinner.)”

Borrowed from the Chubby Vegetarian Blog.

2. Well I say, Trevor Hall

3. Somebody That I Used to Know, Gotye

4. War/No More Trouble, Playing for Change

5. Boy with a Coin, Iron and Wine

6. Cry Cry Cry, Ziggy Marley

7. Country Road, Jack Johnson and Paula Fuga

8. Holocene (Dosh Remix), Bon Iver

9. Hey Ya, Obadiah Parker

10. Poison and Wine, The Civil Wars

11. Love Song #2, The White Buffalo

12. Samadhi, Shaman’s Dream

Ingredients:

2 tbs grapeseed oil

1/2 an onion,chopped

1 red bell pepper, seeded and  chopped

1 tsp chili powder

1 tsp ground cumin

1/2 tsp red pepper flakes

2 15 oz cans black beans, drained and rinsed

2 canned chipoltle peppers

1 cup diced tomato

salt and pepper to tasts

12 corn tortillas

1/2 cup shredded vegan cheese

cilantro, for garnish

salsa and guac, for serving

Directions:

Preheat Oven to 350.

In a medium saute pan, heat one tablespoon of the oil offer medium-high heat. Add the onion and sauté about 5 minutes. Add the red bell pepper and cook 6-8 minutes. Add chili powder, cumin and pepper flakes. Stir. Add the black beans and mix well. Pour a little less than half or f the bean mixture into a blender or food processor. Add the diced tomatoes and chipotle peppers and blend well until it to make a black bean sauce. Season with salt and pepper. (Although the original recipe didn’t call for it,  I added some corn to the unblended mixture for some sweetness!)

In a medium saute pan, heat the remaining oil over medium-low heat.  Place one tortilla at a time in the pan and flip to warm both sides.

In a 13×9-inch baking dish, spread just enough of the black bean sauce to cover the bottom of the pan. Fill the tortillas with about 3 tablespoons of the remaining, unblended black bean mixture. Roll tightly and place in the baking dish with the seam side down. When all the tortillas have been filled and wrapped, pour the remaining black bean sauce on top. Sprinkle with vegan cheese and bake 30-40 minutes. Be Careful not to dry out…

Garnish with fresh guac and/or salsa and ENJOY!

First…the wrists. A “normal” range of motion in wrist extension is around 80 degrees. If we are to line the elbows up exactly over the wrists, this would require a 90 degree range of motion which could ask more from our wrists then they have been designed to give. This isn’t a problem for many of us, but if it causes any pain in the joint, back off enough to alleviate the discomfort.

Second….the shoulders. In my opinion, the most important instruction with this complex joint is to make sure you don’t drop your shoulders below the line of the elbows. Period. Dipping in the shoulders closes the chest, taxes the rotator cuff, puts extra tension in the neck and can lead to a slew of other alignment issues. Even if it doesn’t feel bad, dipping the shoulders can build unhealthy habits that will no doubt show up in other areas of your yoga practice. Think about it…If you are in a vinyasa class you can do anywhere between 10 and 100 chaturangas in one session. Maybe more. If you are doing this pose over and over with poor alignment, your body is going to adapt to the way you are doing it. This is the very nature of repetition. So, bottom line…A healthy chaturanga creates healthy alignment habits, and unhealthy chaturanga creates unhealthy alignment habits.

Leslie Kaminoff has some great imagery here on his site…

http://yogaanatomy.net/chaturanga-dandasana/

Want to decide for yourself? Check out these sites….

http://yogaanatomy.net/chaturanga-dandasana/

http://www.yogajournal.com/health/2528

http://www.yoganonymous.com/yoga-tune-up-maura-barclay-chaturange-article-yoga-practice-tips/

My latest breath play of choice has been the “See Saw” Breath. Students like it, I like it. It quite possibly has another more traditional name somewhere in the yoga vocab, but I quite like See Saw… It implies simplicity. And it is simple…yet the results can be profound.

How to do the See Saw Breath:

First, read through the instructions so it makes sense. Then lie down, find a comfortable position and actually do the practice.

Start by Identifying the 2 main cavities of your upper body. Your chest cavity, and Your abdominal Cavity.
Find and settle into a comfortable breathing rhythm. Observe where your breath naturally goes, and which cavity naturally changes shape. Just observe.

Now, as you inhale, allow the abdominal cavity to change shape and expand while keeping the chest cavity still. Exhale.

On the next inhale, allow the abdominal cavity/belly to remain still while allowing the shape change to occur in the chest cavity. Exhale.

On the next inhale, Switch the breath back to the belly while keeping the chest still…

Switch.

Switch again.

And so on.

Continue for 5 minutes or so, and then return to a natural breath. Observe the experience. Maybe you will be able feel as you let stuff go, or maybe the stuff that comes up will sneak quietly out the back door. Both processes are fine. No need to search for an experience, just have the one you are having. And Breathe. Easy day.

“Where do I know you from, son”, he said to my boyfriend, “have we met?”

My boyfriend gets this often as he is an actor and has been featured on a number of television shows over the years.

“You probably know me because I work on television”, said the boyfriend.

“Ahh yes, well you must have worked on mine. I live right over there on Lee St”, the man said as he gestured towards the south. “Does that sound familiar?”

Ha. So honest.

“I don’t think so”, my boyfriend said smiling, “I actually work on television as an actor, not as a repairman.”

The gentleman still wasn’t quite accepting it. “Well, son, I don’t watch much TV. Were you in the military? Maybe we crossed paths there?”

“No, I wasn’t in the military. Hmm…I was on JAG a few times? Did you watch JAG?”

“No, no, no”, said the gentleman, “that’s not it”.

“Star Trek?”

“No, no.”

“West Wing?”

“No.”

Television as a common ground was quickly set aside and the gentleman decided to focus on military service as a topic, and that was fine with us. It was Memorial Day, after all.  He told us, with pride, all about his life in the military in the 1940′s. He spoke of duty, he spoke of racial injustice (he was the first African American to serve at his post), and he spoke of raw sacrifice. He even spoke of karma, which the philosopher in me quite liked. His story was a powerful one and I felt very blessed I was given the opportunity to hear it.

We chatted for a while, then bid our farewells and parted ways. I was quite moved by the brief encounter, not only by the innocence of the approach, which was awesome, but by the light that flickered in his eyes as he told his story. It was very touching and I loved the unexpectedness of sharing a truly authentic moment with a stranger.

And that got me thinking… How often do we make ourselves available to connect with the people around us?

I repeat myself when I think its important, so….really, how often do we make ourselves available to connect with the people around us?

There are so many interesting stories available to us at any given moment, and we are usually so caught up in our heads and our agendas that we don’t see the opportunities to genuinely connect. Some of you out there are masters at reaching out to perfect strangers, and I applaud you for it. (Please keep at it, because you pull the rest of us out of our shells.) But then there are many of us that isolate ourselves without even knowing that is what we are doing. A big part of life is about connection, so why don’t we reach out and connect? Is it fear? Insecurity? Ego? Or are we simply so preoccupied that that we leave minimal room for anything beyond our thoughts?

Something to think about for sure.

Anyway,  thank you my friend in the bagel shop. Thank you for pulling me out of my head, away from my agenda, and in to the moment with you. What an unexpected pleasure it was to listen to your story.

Happy Memorial Day a little late. The deepest of thank you’s to those who served.

It was last spring and I was in Greenville for the Nationwide Golf Tournament. I had never been to Greenville before, and I was really excited since it was where my mother and father had met while attending the same college. My parents went to Furman and my Dad was there on a full scholarship for football. He LOVED his life in Greenville. This trip came  only a couple months after my Dad had passed a way, so a visit to the football field was a must. I am being modest when I say my father was a bad ass. He was a total superhero in my life for many, many years, so I was thrilled at the opportunity to go check out his old stomping grounds.

I was traveling with my boyfriend and most of our time was filled with golf tournament activities. I was persistent, however, and we found some time to visit the stadium at the end of the trip.  We were told the location was close to where we were staying, so we asked the hotel to point us in the right direction. “Out the front door and take a right”, they said. “It’s a couple miles down the road, you cant miss it.”

Side note: Back in the 60‘s Furman didn’t have their own football field. The team used a city field for all the practices and games. Furman has since built their own field on campus, but I had no interest in seeing that one. I wanted to see where my dad played his games. The locals told me that the city field had recently been renovated and it had changed quite a bit, but I didn’t mind. At least it was still there.

So we set out on foot and headed down the road. After about a 20 minute walk, we saw the lights above the trees and there it was. Yay! The exterior building appeared to be brand new which was clearly what they meant when they said it was freshly renovated. To my dismay, the entrance was all locked up and it was completely closed. We peered through the gate to look for signs of life, but there was nothing. What we did see, however, was how renovated it actually was….it was so renovated that it was now a baseball field. I was super bummed that it had changed so much, but it still felt great to be in the same spot that my Dad had been when he was on top of the world. I didn’t care.

We walked the perimeter to get a feel for the space and to see if perhaps we could find another way in. I tend to be a rule follower, so I was ok with seeing it with from the outside, although my wonderful boyfriend was not having it. He was going to get me on that field. He continued to follow the fencing and spotted a guy on a lawnmower tractor that had just entered through a big, electric gate. The gate was quickly closing behind the machine, and in a spontaneous mad dash, my boyfriend ran for the opening. He made it through the doors, barely clearing his body before the heavy metal gate slammed shut. It was a full-on Jason Bourne moment. I am a chicken, however, and I was stuck on the outside.

My boyfriend ran over to the man on the machine and waved him down. At first the guy looked a bit concerned and wasn’t sure if he should notify security, but after a bit of persuasion he decided to let us in. He kindly opened the gate and gave us some alone time out on the field.

We walked out on to the grass and it felt incredible. I got chills, he got chills. We stood there for a moment in silence and just took it all in. Tears started to stream down my face and it was a truly powerful moment. There are hardly words. After some encouragement from my boyfriend, I started running across the field. He wasn’t going to let me miss out on the moment. After all, the fence nearly took off his arm so I had better make the experience worth his while. (In hindsight the running might have been a bit dramatic, but at the time it felt amazing.) After a lap or two, I flopped down onto the grass in the middle of the field. I laid there with the world spinning and I felt my father’s presence everywhere. The experience consumed me and I didn’t want it to end. It was perfection.

I stayed there for as long as I could until reality finally crept its way back in. I made my way to my feet and it was time to go. We thanked the lawnmower guy for letting us in and we headed toward the exit. I stopped for a second and ran back to grab a handful of grass. I put it in my pocket and was stoked I had a keepsake to remember this wonderful, poignant adventure.

The next morning we gathered in the lobby with some friends from the tournament. Some of the guys were local, some were visiting and we are all saying our farewells before we hit the road. We began to tell the story of the prior day’s events when one of the local guys stopped me and said, “which field did you go to?” And I explained that went to the one down the road…the renovated stadium on the left. And he started laughing and laughing. He said, “You weren’t at the right stadium, sweetheart. The football field was a minute or two further down the road on the right”.

Um…..yeah. We went to the wrong stadium. Seriously? Seriously. Another reminder that a sense of humor is imperative in life, especially when I am in the drivers seat. If we had walked for another minute or two we would have seen the football stadium on the other side of the road.

So, let’s completely bypass the fact that I actually allowed myself to believe a football field could be renovated into a baseball field. Wow.

What I love about this story is that knowledge of my mistake didn’t have to weaken or cheapen what I had felt, and it didn’t make my experience out on that field any less real. It was COMPLETELY real. The fascinating truth underlying my blunder is that the physical reality we see and experience is just a projection of what is inside our minds. Yeah, yeah, yeah, we have heard this before….but let me say that again, the physical reality we see and experience is just a projection of what is inside our minds. Hmmm. Profound, I think. There are a number of different angles one could take with this concept, and I will leave that up to you.

Happy Pondering.

It was May of last year and I was on the beach with my mom, my sister, and my sister’s kids. We were spending an afternoon enjoying the healing power of the ocean after a tearful memorial service dedicated to my late father. There was a melancholy air surrounding us and we were quietly relishing in the vibe. The beach was pretty much empty and the kids were running around and enjoying the space although still somewhat affected by the weight of the morning.

We noticed that my sister’s six year old had found something in the water along the shore break. After a few moments of observation, she sprinted towards us to share her treasure. In her hands she held up a remarkable piece of perfectly bleached coral. “Look what I found”, she said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

And it was quite beautiful. Although my mom, sister and I all found it a bit strange since we were on the beach in Virginia Beach, Va...and one doesn’t typically find coral on the mid atlantic coastline. But who knows…stranger things have happened.

My niece set the coral down on the towel and skipped back to the waters edge. Within seconds, she picked up something else up from the shoreline. Overflowing with enthusiasm, she ran back to show us another shell. This time it was a perfect fan shaped shell the size of her palm covered with the colors of a sunrise. Pretty magnificent, and again quite unusual for Virginia Beach.

Again, she found another shell. And again, and again, and again, and again. By the time she was finished, we had a pile of close to 15 pretty remarkable seashells sitting in front of us. We were quite perplexed, but very happy that the afternoon had brought smiles and some laughs. “Maybe Grandpa sent them”, she says. And we smiled at the sweetness of the moment. My niece didn’t get a chance to know how much my Dad loved the beach, so she wasn’t really aware at how poignant her statement was. Maybe my dad did send them after all. It sure made for a fine thought.

A few minutes later, I noticed a girl walking past us on the sand. I looked closer and I realized it was a friend of mine so I called to her to say hello. (Long story short, she was going through the heartache of a pretty tough divorce and had recently located back to Virginia to be closer to her family.) She made her way over and we chatted for a while. I told her about my Dad and that we were down at the beach receiving some healing energy from the ocean. She said she was doing the same. As we said our goodbyes my friend glanced down at the pile of shells and paused.

“Where did you get those?”, she asked.

“My niece found them on the beach”, I told her. “It is so unusual to find shells like this here, so we decided that Grandpa must have sent them from Heaven. I mean, where else could they have come from?”

She started to laugh. Then she proceeded to tell us that part of her healing that morning  had consisted of discarding the seashells that she and her ex husband had collected during their marriage.  One by one she had tossed the shells back into the ocean as a symbolic process of letting go and moving on. A quite effective process, might I add. That is until you finish your therapy and find all of your shells together again sitting in a pile on your friend’s towel staring back at you saying, “Still here”.

Ouch.

What does that say? What does that mean? That seems pretty unfair, right? As I filed through the possible symbolism that could be drawn from the situation, I had an epiphany. It means absolutely nothing. In the self-help psychobabble I can get wrapped up in, I am so accustomed to finding meaning in EVERYTHING…from chakras to traumas to centipedes. But the truth is, it means nothing at all. The drama we create around a situation ends up being a form of attachment and can work against us as it keeps us in the past. And the past should stay in the past. If I allow a seashell to represent my father, then loss of the shell or damage to the shell can stir up grief and sadness. If I allow the seashell to represent an ex-husband, then the seashell can trigger anger and heartache. And it is JUST a seashell….A really beautiful seashell that I willingly gave significant power over my life.

One of the sub limbs of the yogic path is aparigraha or non-attachment. Aparigraha refers not only to material objects but also to the reality we paint for ourselves to make us feel safe and ok. We search for reasons and excuses to support our choices and emotions, when in reality a choice is just a choice and an emotion is just an emotion. It’s really that simple. Attachment disguises itself as symbolism and convinces us it is healthy. We think It helps us understand the world, but in reality it keeps us from it. Symbolism and attachment live in our words and in our heads blinding us to the truth that exists only in the present moment. Life only happens in the present.

Soooo, I am not sure what should be taken from all of this except that a sense of humor can be really helpful in our human experience. Fortunately, we all had a sense of humor that day on the beach. We shared a good laugh at serendipity’s expense and went home with 15 new seashells and a pretty funny story.

When I moved to Hawaii almost 4 years ago, I was overjoyed (UNDERSTATEMENT) by the fact that the Hawaiian Islands are free from any form of my one and only significant and completely rational fear…snakes. After a small (but not really) run in with a rattlesnake found under my bed while in Mexico at my first Yoga Teacher Training, I was told from a wise teacher that serpents are my “guide”.  This friend of mine entered my birthdate and a few other facts about my identity into a computer and Voila! Within moments, the computer provided what my friend assured me was an authentic Mayan reading which now explained the presence of serpents throughout my life. Snakes are here to teach me….something. Yay!

No, wait. No Yay. For a moment I felt relieved that finally there was an explanation, but that relief was short lived. Reality check…I had still found a rattlesnake under my bed. And I had 2 more weeks left in Mexico.

Somewhat uninspired and still quite freaked out, I went back to my hut in the middle of the desert. With the help of my roommate, we decided to put a zip up tent inside of our hut. Problem solved. We could now zip ourselves into safety while we slept. No more snakes. I discerned from the situation that my lesson was to learn to be savvy. When the world puts a snake under your bed, don’t quit yoga teacher training…..learn to creatively adapt.

Fast forward a few years and here I am in Hawaii. Super excited to hear that the Island is snake free, which must mean that my serpentine education is complete and I can move on as a stronger, braver and wiser being.

That was until about a month into my new life in Hawaii when I met the creature straight out of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom….the Hawaiian Centipede. I mean seriously? This cant be real. These things freak me out more than snakes. And they just keep showing up! On my walls, in my kitchen, under my bed, on my couch… I know people that have lived here for years and have never seen one with their own eyes, and I have had at least 100 unlikely run-ins with them in the 4 years I have lived here. That may not seem like that many, but trust me, it is more than enough.

So tonight at dinner, one dropped from the ceiling, landed on my shirt, and started crawling towards my neck. Yup. My neck. Some friends and I were enjoying some great conversation, great food, and a fresh yoga buzz from an earlier class….and then we were interrupted by the fact that a centipede was crawling up my shoulder headed for my neck and even worse…potentially getting lost in my hair.

AAHHHHHHHH!!!!

I hesitate. Do I scream WTF, jump from my chair and rip my shirt off??? Or does the yogi in me remain calm and simply recognize that God is in the creature, softly brush it to the floor, acknowledge it with a namaste, and let it make its way, slightly shaken, to wherever it was going? Well, its all a bit foggy, but I think I managed not to curse or strip, but I did leap from my seat, shake with some super hip 80’s dance move, and release a strange yelp out of my mouth.

Thankfully, my 5 ft 10 body managed to hail victorious over the 5 inches of centipede that nearly took my life. He too, survived, and slipped between the wood panels in the floor to carry on in nature as centipedes do. Which is a good thing, because I didn’t want him dead, I just wanted him off of me.

So, as I climb into bed with a lingering case of the heebie jeebies, I check my sheets and around my bed, and I begin to reflect on how some creature can have so much influence on my state of being. What does it represent? Is it possible that the centipede could be here to teach me something, too? And if so, can I please learn my lesson already?!?!?!

So, Professor Centipede, Lets sum these lessons up with some gratitude.

First, I thank you for not stinging me.

Second, I thank you for reminding me that Fear is a human experience that is part of my existence. Without fear, the absence of fear would be hardly noteworthy.

Third, I thank you for giving me perspective. Maybe the fact that I am in bed as I type this, without needing to put up a tent in my room, is a good sign of progress.

(And also thanks for the perspective that every lesson doesn’t have to be profound.)

And lastly, and probably the most important lesson, thank you for teaching me that, contrary to my prior belief, having a centipede on my neck will not kill me.