On Coming Full Circle

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

If you haven’t read The Alchemist (spoiler alert: skip to the next paragraph if you ever plan to and don’t want to know how it ends) and grasped the true meaning, it speaks to how you can travel the world, be rich, be poor, and experience everything life can possibly offer—but you will not find what you are looking for until you look right where you are. In essence, the treasure we seek is within.

Last night I came back from a 28-hour marathon trip from Westhampton Beach, NY, across the Long Island Sound via Port Jefferson to Connecticut, to Branford/Rhode Island/Branford/Rhode Island, and back across the Sound on the east end of Long Island via Orient Point to drive back to where I started from. I went in a large circle.

While having a quick takeout dinner I grabbed earlier in the day on the Cross Sound Ferry yesterday evening, I suddenly felt the urge to MOVE. I had been in the car or in a tight, cramped space for more than a day and felt like I had to break free.

But there was almost nowhere to go…

So I walked. And walked. And walked.

I walked around and around in circles on the ferry. The wind was warm—breezier in some parts than others. I breathed it all in deeply. The sun was setting.

I passed the same people many times. People mostly doing the same things—on their phones, with a handful engaged with one another. I walked past them over and over in my own reverie as the ship moved forward from one destination to the next.

Something about this felt symbolic. Many remain in one spot, or like I was doing, going around and around in circles as we are carried ahead by life via a man-made creation known as time.

Once the ferry arrived and I began the drive from the east end, it all felt so very familiar—the dark, the long winding roads, infrequently passing other cars as I skirted my eyes toward the right where the white line meets the edge of the road, as I was taught in Defensive Driving when I was 16.

I felt like I was that age again. Driving familiar roads. Some of the same roads I had driven then. The landscape of the road, the lining of the trees against the night sky, the warm summer air, the cicadas, and the crickets. All my senses were highly engaged. I was so present and aware of the moment—and the connection to the past.

The radio was on and connected to my iPhone. I was listening to Angels and Airwaves. I looked at the name of the album’s words that lit up on my car’s navigation display:

Stomping the Phantom Brake Pedal

I had only just noticed what those words mean.

Has my life just gone on until now while I went in circles?

I spent my entire adulthood on a path away from where I grew up.

The first 16 years or so were quite lovely. I put trauma behind and made a life for myself—one that I was proud of. But a divorce, and what should have been a happier ending, threw me into a tailspin. I was suddenly looking for something. And to make what could be a very long story short, I unearthed trauma that was still lingering, and the last 13 years have been about discovery and healing.

But I stayed away from home.

My current husband grew up a mere 7 miles, as the crow flies, from the place I attempted to escape and was driving toward last night. I’ve visited his hometown for years while skirting around my own. I never really went back—mentally or physically.

Then a few weeks ago, on a whim, I decided to stop in my own hometown on the way past it. I was alone. I had time. I suddenly wanted to see it.

To my wonder, I felt nostalgia—something I never imagined I would feel. The feeling came on quickly, without warning. It hurt because it felt unfamiliar. Yet it was very happy, and at the same time very sad. A mix of emotion that only nostalgia unearths.

A few days later I realized I could love and dislike the past equally. It’s not all or nothing.

The feeling of suddenly being open to seeing the good of the past felt so free. It was a band-aid that had been on for so long that when it came off, that part of me felt exposed and unfamiliar—yet amazing. In the same way skin under tape would feel when exposed once again to the sun. Cautious, but so warm and, dare I say, inviting.

I let that all marinate for a few weeks and carried on with this temporarily homeless existence my husband and I have been living in since our home has been under construction in June.

And here I was last night, coming back to where I started the prior day and literally close to where my adulthood journey began.

I suddenly wanted to break out—not so dissimilar to the feeling I had on the ferry earlier.

What I am looking for has always been with me, like in The Alchemist. I know this intellectually. However, it seems difficult to access most of the time.

Last night, that portal was wide open.

I wanted to be where I was—in the flow, in the perfect moment always, like the spiritual teachings of all shapes, sizes, and religions teach us. We are always where we are supposed to be.

If we let go of our imaginary steering wheel and embrace what God/Brahma/The Universe has in store for us, we will truly be able to enjoy the ride.

Maybe my purpose this morning is to write about this. To share that you can stomp on the phantom brake pedal—out of standstills or ruts you find yourself in—and break habits that stop you from being the fullest expression of yourself.

I feel it now at this very moment. I know I will forget it quite soon and carry on with my day and my life very much as I always have—but perhaps a smidgen more enlightened.

It’s all these little “smidges” of becoming more aware that lead to peace and flow. That is the only path forward.

Perhaps forward is really upward?

Perhaps we can stay where we are in that same physical place, the same rut, but use the brake to find true freedom in knowing that there is always a very special treasure within.

That treasure is inner freedom and peace.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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On the One who is Looking

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

This morning was a gorgeous, unseasonal April spring morning. There wasn’t a wisp of wind, and the water surrounding my home was perfectly still. I took these two photos. What I love about these pictures is the perfect reflection of the objects on the water.

The photo with the wooden boat stakes is particularly interesting in that it is nearly impossible to tell where the stake ends and the water begins.

This situation reminded me very much of our essence and our soul. Do we know where we begin and forever ends?

That may sound deep, but it really is not.

This stillness of the water this morning reminded me of the quote “As above, so below.”

What does that mean?

My understanding is that the laws of physics and how things work in the universe (above) is how things work with us too (below).

Both us and the universe are made up of the same “stuff.”

Our bodies and minds operate the same way the universe operates. Yes—even our mind. While our mind is invisible to the eye, it is still a product of the “stuff” in our universe.

The Yoga Sutras were written around 200 BCE in Sanskrit. In the very first chapter, it is explained that we really are not separate from the Universe/God/The Divine/Pure Consciousness (or whatever your concept is of an entity that is greater than us as individuals). It is said that we can’t see this because we are looking at ourselves through false lenses.

Why did they think this?

It sounds complicated, but when it’s explained and thought through, it’s really simple!

• Our minds are comprised of matter
• This matter fluctuates
• These fluctuations are what we perceive as mind chatter (that voice in our head that is talking to us all the time, replaying songs and conversations, worrying, chatting—chatting & CHATTING…)
• These fluctuations and chatter impact our emotions
• If we quiet the mind, we will be able to think clearly and not have our emotions impacted by our thoughts
• A quiet mind brings peace
• Our emotional/mind connection functions like a mirror that is clouded. Others have interpreted the original Sanskrit to liken this to water

That last bullet point is the most important, and off the bat it makes the least sense. But if you stay with me, maybe it will make sense to you too.

But what needs to be explained first is the watcher part.

Watcher part???

I am blown away by the idea, expressed in the first part of the Yoga Sutras, that we are one with everything in the universe. We are all connected to just one thing—a source of sorts. All major religions incorporate this concept into their teachings.

That part, in and of itself, is not particularly mind-blowing. I have always heard it, kind of accepted it, didn’t understand it, and just moved along.

But when I considered this in a different way, I was able to understand the absolute coolness (for lack of a better word) of how this can be.

This is the watcher part:

If we consider the monkey chatter of our mind and understand it to be the organ of our brain doing its thing—

Then the other part—the part of us that notices the chatter (which seems like the same part)—is the part of us that is not stuff. If you are just reading this through right now to finish and didn’t grasp the lines here, re-read it.

Another way to put this is that when I notice a song in my head that I didn’t put there, the thing that noticed the song is not the same thing that is playing the song. They can’t be. How can the same thing notice something it didn’t do?

The first time I grasped this concept, someone asked me to close my eyes and picture a dog. When they asked if I saw the dog, I said yes. Then they asked who created that image, and I answered my mind. Then they asked, if your mind created the dog image, who is seeing the dog? And who told the mind to put it there?

The part that notices is the part that sages, philosophers, and religion describe as our immortal soul.

Psychoanalysts have used the Freudian construction of the id, ego, and superego. While the superego in Freud’s theory is not meant to be a soul, it is still the watcher. It is the part that hears the chatter of the mind and sees the images that are there.

This superego has also been referred to as the superconscious.

If our soul/superconscious is immortal and interpreting the world through our senses, which part is real?

Back to that last bullet point, which I will copy here again:

Our emotional/mind connection functions like a mirror that is clouded. Others have interpreted the original Sanskrit to liken this to water.

If water is moving, filled with dirt, impacted by wind—anything that would disturb it—it is not clear. Items reflected off of it will be distorted and not reflected back as they really are.

Same with a mirror. If you look through it and it is distorted, moving, dirty, or clouded, it is difficult to see the original image clearly.

The mind works the same way. When it is filled with chatter, static, noise, etc., it does not see clearly.

When we still the mind, we will feel peace.

That is fairly simple, right? Easy concept, but difficult to carry out.

But where does this reflection come in?

If our immortal soul is watching the world and listening to our brain’s chatter through our bodies, unless we clear the mind, we will see distorted images. The mind is the vessel that transmits the image, like the water or the mirror.

On a completely similar note that may not be clear yet, scientists have been studying the theory of a holographic universe for about 25 years now. Could that mean what we see and live in the 3D world is only in our minds?

I do know it sounds absolutely CRAZY. I’ve watched at least a dozen documentaries and explanations about this. I understand parts of it for moments but get thrown off by the math and science that is beyond my ability to fully comprehend.

Perhaps it’s true. Think about it.

If, as in the Yoga Sutras, our immortal self that is part of everything else can only see ourselves through the mirror of our mind, only one part is real. Because when we look through a mirror, we see a duplicate of us. Only one is the original.

If the theory of “as above, so below” has any merit, mirrors and water reflections and all that jazz show two of everything, with the “two” really only being one.

But if the mirror is cloudy or the water is moving, it looks like two different objects, but really there is still only one.

If our mind works like everything else in the universe, what we experience when we still our mind is our true self. It is a point at which we are aligned with all that is and are able to see that what is all around us is only a holograph.

But like my photo of the boat stakes, with that perfect reflection it is difficult to tell where one part begins and the other ends. But only one part is real.

What is looking is safe and secure for all of eternity, because it is eternity. It’s why we feel peace. It is us.

The moral of this story? Still the mind. Meditate. Be at peace.

Namaste.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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On Self-Compassion

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

This morning I spent a little time creating a short yoga class that I will be providing at work on Monday. The Employee Health program is focusing on self-compassion and holding some events and classes that support this important concept.

From the definition on the Employee Health flier: Self-compassion is the ability to turn compassion inward toward oneself, especially when we believe we fail, make a mistake, or feel inadequate.

How often do we focus on our heart? Take a moment to think about this amazing organ that relentlessly beats and gives you life.

Consider what your heart would tell your brain when you are down or have a negative dialogue ruminating in your head.

The heart generates 2–3 watts of energy through an electrical stimulus called the sinus node (or SA node). Your heart is the only thing in your body that generates its own electrical current from seemingly nowhere.

Where does this electricity come from?

It is said the heart is connected to a larger energetic field linked to the universe.

Decade-long studies show the heart has its own intelligence, neurological system, and electromagnetic field. Additionally, these studies show that the heart’s intelligence is actually much larger and more powerful than the brain’s. Reference

We aren’t taught to consult the heart as a center of intelligence. If you listen to your heart, what would it tell you about self-compassion?

Consider self-compassion and the way you treat yourself. How do you feel when a mistake was made, something didn’t happen that you wished would, or your own level of adequacy? How does your heart feel about it? It is still in there beating, loving you, and providing life for you.

As you go about the rest of the day and month, where the American Heart Association focuses on heart health, consider committing to catching yourself anytime you might not be as loving to yourself as your heart wishes you might be.

Be your own Valentine and treat yourself with kindness, compassion, and understanding, just the way your own beating heart does for you.

Namaste

Esterina

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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On Transformation through Thoughts – You have more power than you think!

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

I saw a Facebook post from my good friend Michele and it inspired me to write a blog. I haven’t felt inspired to write in a while. It is a quote that talks about how powerful your mind is, to mind your thoughts because your body doesn’t know the difference of what you want and what you don’t – but it will manifest what those thoughts are.

There is so much truth to this concept.

I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with the word “woke.” Back in 2008, I don’t remember what I googled, but I fell into a rabbit hole of reading about what the end of the Mayan long calendar meant in 2012.

There were all kinds of end-of-the-world predictions. There were also some spiritual explanations that were ever so slightly hokey, but something about those explanations felt right. Have you ever heard or read something that spoke truth to you down to a cellular level, where you knew in your core there was veracity to it?

The spiritual predictions said that in 2012 there would be a mass spiritual awakening for many humans. People would start to look at the world in a different way and realize immutable truths that were otherwise hidden in plain sight before.

I closed the browser that day and enjoyed the life I built at work and at home, although there was always a little bit of a nagging feeling that something was missing.

Four years later, when 2012 arrived, I was in a new marriage with a larger family, and despite the unbelievable love I had for my new family, there were equally unnecessary struggles with the adaptation to the new situation—so much so that I was experiencing anxiety at levels that I’m sure were doing harm to my body.

And then, oddly, a series of trainings, books, and podcasts just happened to come my way. They were eye-opening, and in a few months I had radically shifted the way I saw the world. An absolutely new world opened up to me where I understood how our minds and brains work—how what I was doing and striving for was not the key to happiness.

That is what the term “woke” has meant to me, until more recently when I hear it used in the way most use it now.

True happiness does not come from things, vacations, relationships, or experiences. True happiness comes from the way we choose to see the world.

It’s that simple. It doesn’t sound possible to a scientifically minded, left-brain thinker. But when I let go and allowed myself to be turned over to the will of the universe, the answers came to me, just as many spiritual teachings suggest.

Knowing was great, but remembering and using the principles were not a habit yet formed. It’s a lot easier said than done. Ten years later, I’m at a place where I remember more than I forget. It’s hard. So how do you just change the way you see the world, and why does that make a difference in your life?

What do words and “spells” have to do with it?

A simple way to put it is that every single thing in our universe has a vibrational frequency—even thoughts.

Vibrations attract other vibrations. You can’t see or experience something in a vibration that you are not aligned with, the same way we can’t hear a dog whistle or see ultraviolet rays. Humans do not have senses that vibrate at those levels.

Also, the whole universe works in the same way life does, in that it is manifested through various mixes of the five elements.

From densest to lightest (also lower to higher in frequency), those elements are:

Earth
Water
Fire
Air
Ether

A seed goes into the dirt, and the dirt doesn’t care if it’s a watermelon seed or a carrot seed. Given the right conditions and mix of elements, that seed will grow into what it was intended to be.

The seed has potential and a code (watermelon/carrot/hydrangea). That code is the vibration or the intention—the thing with a lot of power that we cannot see. The dirt is the womb that holds and brings that seed to fruition.

The other elements play a role too—air (wind), water, and fire (sun). The way they all mix will determine if and how that seed reaches its potential. Animal and human life is created the same way.

And so it’s said is the manifestation of everything else.

Thoughts are like seeds, and our mind is the womb in which they grow. We manifest what we think, either intentionally or unintentionally. The mind doesn’t know or care if it’s a watermelon seed or a pansy seed—it just nurtures the magic code in it to life.

That is why it is so important to be mindful of your thoughts. That isn’t easy without practice. The practice of meditation is one of the most helpful ways to remember to monitor your thoughts off the mat too.

BUT—and this is a big one—all thoughts have a vibrational frequency, and even if you think you are manifesting something you want, if the intention behind it is not something you would want in your own life, you will get just what you asked for.

Huh???

Yes—your thoughts have a frequency, and they send out a magnetic energy that attracts that frequency.

Perhaps you want money. You put that thought in your mind and wait. But you don’t get it—you get the same life you’ve been living. “This crap doesn’t work,” you say. It won’t if your intentions are not clear or different from the way you live now. The intention (potential, like the code or ether in the seed) is what really matters.

What is the intention behind the desire for money? Is it to buy food and just survive? Is it to get drugs to get high? Is it to buy a big house or fancy car and ignore those who have nothing? Or is it to do good in the world? Is it a mix?

You will get what you intend.

Like the line in the Lord’s Prayer about forgiving trespasses as you forgive, the simple truth is that when you don’t forgive, you will not be forgiven. It’s the intention, the frequency, the code in what you are thinking that is the driver.

When you want something that will be harmful to others, you will, in some way, be harmed. When you just want to get by, you will get that. If you want to make a difference in the world and do good, opportunities will come your way to do that. Your vibration will attract similar vibrations.

It’s not things we manifest (car, money, house); we manifest our intentions.

Whether we think them through or not—“Whose head do I need to trample to get a raise and buy the new car?” or “Who should I put down to feel better about myself?”—you will experience that which you wish.

You may get the car, but you will not be happy for long, because something equally as uncaring in the way it was obtained will happen to you, and you ultimately will not enjoy that car.

And we cannot not consider the spoken word. Words have more power than thoughts. That is why chanting is so powerful. I’ve written about mantra before and why Sanskrit (which is not a spoken language) is used. It’s so the intention of the mantra stays clear without your own individual bias on what a word means being accidentally infused into what you are asking for.

Before the universe, before the Big Bang, there was something immensely powerful all balled up and ready to explode. It had within it the intention of the entire universe—like a seed. When the bang happened and the universe began to spread out, the same law of seed, dirt, and conditions were applied to all that were in that pre-explosion dense object.

The Christian Bible uses God as the activator, but whatever higher power you believe in (it could just be the universe itself), when this power made the decision to come into being and gave the command (spoke the “word”), action followed. Whatever it is you believe in, it really is the word.

There is a very real truth to what people say about words being more powerful than the atomic bomb. Being mindful of what you say begins with being mindful of what you think.

It’s easier said than done. It takes practice to catch yourself and be sure to keep replacing your thoughts with things you want to see and experience—things that will do no harm.

Meditation is a great practice.

Before you think, “My mind can’t meditate, it doesn’t work for me,” consider this:

Just by being quiet, you will very quickly hear what is going on in your mind. As things come up, contemplate whether it’s a thought you want, a thought that does no harm, or a thought that is positive and uplifting.

I promise, a moment later, you will forget and your mind will take over with either the same old thought or something new. It’s normal. It’s the human condition—it’s not you.

Your mind will keep chattering, but try to keep interrupting it. Keep asking yourself if that’s a keeper thought or if it should be plucked out like a weed.

Five minutes of meditation a day is a good start because that practice will help you notice what repetitive strings of thoughts come up the rest of the day that will either serve or not serve you.

Keep at it. It takes very little work, but the payoff is the life you want. It’s not a miracle—you have to practice it. Only with time will it work.

That is what it means to wake up—to be aware of yourself, your thoughts, and your intentions, and not asleep at the wheel.

So be “woke” (not in the politically charged way) and change your life ☺️

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Please feel free to leave a comment or subscribe for future updates.

On Rainbows

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

This morning I was doing mantras on my beloved mala beads off the Exuma Islands in the Bahamas on our good friend’s catamaran.

It suddenly started to drizzle, then rain—quite abruptly and hard. My husband, who was doing his own yoga on the other hull, and I ran to the back of the boat, where we were greeted with a beautiful rainbow.

Wow… it stopped me in my tracks. How beautiful. And how beautiful to see a full rainbow on the horizon. We are so lucky.

I couldn’t help but think of the state of Ukraine and her beautiful human citizens, who are not so lucky. These past few days I have instinctively wanted to use personal mantra to will something positive or hopeful for the outcome of this unnecessary war. But I also remembered that mantra is personal and will not work for anyone outside yourself. I briefly wondered, just then—as I have for the past several mornings—why we use group mantra to raise consciousness or send faith outward.

The answer was in front of me.

The rainbow. I marveled at the colors. The anagram of ROY G BIV that I learned around kindergarten. The order holds true no matter where you are.

About 10 years ago, while listening to a song, I contemplated the term “ultraviolet.” I then researched the meaning of colors and the length of their spectrums. As I started to get back into art a few years later, I considered the meaning of colors even more—the way they blend, and how a color wheel can seem continuous from red to purple, when it really is not. Purple to red is the only place on the wheel that isn’t quite part of nature. What happens between those two? Is there a real place between them?

White light contains it all. The earth bends the sun’s rays and we get the rainbow to the visible eye. But what is beyond that? We know about infrared and ultraviolet, but what is there that we can’t see or detect with the combination of instruments and our five senses?

Universally, red is considered basic and instinctive, while purple is considered spiritual and highly conscious. Red is larger and takes up more space on the rainbow. Purple is smaller and is only accessed by passing all of the rainbow’s outer colors.

What lies past purple, going inward?

What can’t we see?

I stared at this gem that appears when the elements of fire (sun) and water mix into the element of air, seemingly right into the element of the earth’s horizon.

The purple color starts to go within.

Going within is the key. It’s the path to something deeper, meaningful—not what is just a mirage or hologram, but what is real and cannot be seen or detected with our eyes.

We can all go within and quiet the mind of excuses, fears, worries, selfish desires, and so on, to find the right answer to anything—the answer that is ultimately right for the world, not just the human who is asking.

Those fears, excuses, and desires are the other “colors” you need to pass through in order to find the peace within.

The place within where the field—or maybe plane of existence—of the personal self does not matter. What matters is what is real and what is for the greater good.

So perhaps the question I wondered about—mantras for personal matters versus mantras for others—was right there in the rainbow. It is the bridge between the personal self and the greater good. I can do mantra to seek my own higher consciousness, which is ultimately for the greater good. Or I can chant with others in community for the greater good.

It all works if the intention is to leave all the material and selfish behind and pray for peace and harmony for all.

All.

Regardless of species, race, skin or hair color, or beliefs anyone was taught.

If you truly, truly go within, you too will know that none of anything material or visible matters if what you wish for others is what you want for yourself.

Just some of my deeper thoughts this morning.

Namaste.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Please feel free to leave a comment or subscribe for future updates.

Chinese New Year and the Magic of Your Thoughts

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

Last year, right around this time, a trip to the post office may have changed my life.

I was online and noticed a sign for stamps celebrating Chinese New Year. I picked up my phone to look up the date—Friday, February 12, 2021. I wondered why Chinese New Year wasn’t based on the calendar. Later, at home, I popped that very question into Google. I learned Chinese New Year was based on the new moon, and I read quite a bit about the traditions and celebration. Still, I wondered—why this time of year?

A few days later, during my morning meditation routine, I had some interesting thoughts. This time last year, I set an intention during my morning meditation to quit drinking. I would do some EFT (tapping) and imagine burning up the energies getting in the way of doing so.

For the New Year of 2021, I placed a Shiva statue on my meditation table and switched my daily mala mantra to “Om Namah Shivaya.” I also placed a wooden sign I painted above the door frame of my meditation space with this same mantra. Each morning felt fresh and new. I optimistically thought, “Today is the day I don’t drink.” By mid-day, I’d decide to drink, but that would be the last day. It was a futile merry-go-round, and I couldn’t seem to make it stop or find the exit back into the amusement park.

I needed a push. I chose Shiva for that push. Stick with me about why…

In yoga teacher training, I learned a little about Hinduism and the three main deities of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva. They are the Creator, Sustainer, and Destroyer. In Ayurveda, they can be likened to spring, summer, and fall/winter. Shiva destroys the season of summer each year and ushers in fall, then winter. At some point, Brahma takes over and creation starts over. Spring begins. Simple enough concept.

This particular morning of 2/8, on my meditation cushion, I looked up at this piece I created in 2019. It may literally look like “Chinese” to anyone but me; however, it represents my own conglomeration of beliefs and knowledge regarding Taoism, Hinduism, Ayurveda, the seasons, the directions of the earth, time, and the color wheel. I thought about Shiva and my question of why Chinese New Year falls during this time of year.

While looking at my art, I saw how I incorporated the three primary colors with the three Ayurvedic doshas into four seasons. Was there a distinct point at which spring really begins and winter ends? A time when Shiva’s work ends and Brahma’s begins? How could it not be at this very time of year?

While the ground is frozen and the leaves are long gone, it’s only three or so weeks away from crocuses coming up. Clearly, flowers can’t pop up above ground without some underground work happening first. Buds are already on the trees at the equinox. Mother Nature silently begins her work as the days become noticeably longer, but it’s still very much winter. She must start around now, and why not with a mid-winter new moon? It seems like good timing to me. Perhaps that is when the bulk of Shiva’s work is done for the season.

Still with my conglomerate story?

Shiva is a “destroyer,” but is simultaneously known as a change agent or transformer. When Shiva is involved, it is apparent. In this famous statue, Shiva is shown dancing. He is known as the cosmic dancer, stomping and keeping the beat of the universe moving. The stomping and dancing represent moving things along, transforming life and matter, keeping it all going, and preventing it from being stuck. It’s why I was meditating and attempting to tap into this energy.

Side note: In Christianity, do you know who else is known as the Lord of the Dance?

This particular Monday morning of 2/8, I lamented how another weekend went by and I did not stop drinking. Chinese New Year was that Friday, 2/12—a new start, a new beginning. I would stop by that Friday with the Chinese New Year, no matter what.

I went through my morning routine—meditate, tap, mantra—with the strong intention of quitting the drink woven in. Be careful what you wish for, and even more importantly, how you wish for it.

That Friday did not arrive, at least not in the way I had planned. I wanted to stop by then, and by golly, some forces came in like a lion and made certain that by Friday I was not to be drinking.

I drank that Monday. Forces were with me. There were four very irritating things taking place around me—four really tough things that would irritate and worry just about anyone. Did I face them? No, I didn’t. I drank instead.

What happened next was immediate and undeniable. I had a strong and violent PTSD episode. It wasn’t the first time. I ended up in the emergency room until the early hours of the morning because I couldn’t stop hyperventilating during a panic attack. I was on a gurney, alone, in the middle of the night, in the middle of a pandemic, with a mask on and the future completely uncertain.

In that moment, I knew. What had happened would not have happened if I hadn’t been drinking. There could be no more “tomorrows” where I planned to quit. It had to be now.

I looked up a service I had seen advertised, where professionals come into your home to help with addiction. I submitted a request for information and began enrollment the next day.

The following days and weeks were incredibly difficult. I made a mess of my life. I didn’t live in my home again until April, and my husband and I didn’t live together again until June.

It was the worst of times. It was also the best of times.

I had asked for a Shiva-like intervention, and that is what I received. Not in the way I would have imagined, but in a way that forced me to stop and take a real look at my life.

I don’t know if anything else would have created the kind of pause needed to truly reflect, to understand how I got there, and to take responsibility for the mistakes I had made along the way.

At the same time, I realized that I had been preparing for this moment for years. Through therapy, spirituality, yoga, and self-reflection, I had built tools I didn’t fully realize I had. I knew how to breathe through discomfort, how to seek support, how to rest when needed, and how to process difficult emotions without avoiding them.

I had learned that life continues, that everything changes, and that acceptance is not the same as giving up. It is simply acknowledging what is.

It wasn’t easy, but it was easier than I thought it would be. I knew, deep down, that no matter what happened next, I would be okay—and eventually better.

There were also ripple effects. Others in my life began to respond differently, to reflect on their own choices, and to shift in healthier ways. The impact extended beyond just me.

Not everyone sees it that way, and that’s okay. I trust that there is something for everyone to take from these experiences, even if it’s not immediately clear.

The idea that what we are searching for may already exist within us resonates deeply with me. The universe doesn’t necessarily give us what we want in the way we expect. It responds to the intention behind it.

If the intention is grounded and sincere, the outcome reflects that. If it’s driven by fear or imbalance, that shows up too.

I’ve learned that being clear about what I want—and being honest about why I want it—matters. There’s a difference between wanting something and needing it to feel whole.

This past year has taught me how much easier life feels when my thinking is clear. Good and bad things still happen, but my response to them has changed.

I’m still learning. I still have instincts that pull me in different directions. But I’m more aware now that my experience of life is shaped by how I respond to what happens, not just what happens itself.

Namaste.

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On how what you pay attention to, pays attention

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

The first time I heard the line, “What you pay attention to pays attention,” I was sitting in a yoga teacher training session. The line felt so meaningful to me that I wrote it down immediately. Something in me understood it and knew it to be true.

At a surface level, it makes sense. If you pay attention to your pets, your spouse, or even someone you barely know, they tend to pay attention back. It could even be a stranger behind the coffee counter each morning—positive or negative, attention has a way of being returned. It doesn’t really discriminate.

But what about things that aren’t alive? Can they “pay attention” too? That’s where my curiosity was piqued, because I feel that in some way, they do.

This idea brought me back to a time in 2001, when my ex-husband, our two children, and I moved from Cape Cod to Naugatuck, Connecticut. At the time, I had my first real sense that there might be something to the idea of energy we can’t see.

We had been living in military housing, and after the movers packed up our belongings, we stayed for a couple of weeks in temporary housing on the base. The units were identical, clean, and fully furnished. When we first arrived, we were able to look at all four units and choose the one we wanted.

Around that same time, while staying with my brothers on Long Island, I picked up a book on Feng Shui from a bargain table at a bookstore. I had heard of it before, mostly in passing, but didn’t really know what it meant. As I read about the concept of “chi,” something clicked for me.

I started thinking about the temporary housing unit we had just left. Even though all four units were the same, I had a strong sense that the one we had lived in would feel different to the next family. It would still be clean, but something about it would carry the imprint of our time there.

When I mentioned this to others, they had more practical explanations—air flow, dust, things that couldn’t be seen but could be detected. That made sense, but I still felt there was something more to it.

Over the years, I’ve come back to that idea in different ways. What I’ve consistently noticed is how often things I pay attention to seem to be noticed by others shortly after.

I’ve always liked to keep a clean home. Even when I was busy, I made time for it, sometimes with help and sometimes on my own. When I had the time, I would focus on small, specific areas—corners, drawers, the tops of door frames—places that weren’t obvious but still felt important to tend to.

What struck me as odd was that later, without me saying anything, someone in my family would comment on that exact area. Not always the surface, but the object itself—a desk, a table, something I had quietly given attention to. It was as if the attention I gave it somehow made it more noticeable.

The same thing has happened in other ways. I’ve had moments where I noticed something about myself—like a pair of shoes I had worn many times but suddenly appreciated in a new way—and then someone else would comment on them that same day.

One of the more personal examples goes back to when I was younger. As my features were changing, I became very self-conscious about my nose. Many of the women in my family had a similar shape, and I didn’t like it. I focused on it in a negative way, and it seemed to draw negative attention.

Years later, I saw a woman with a similar nose, and it looked beautiful on her. It fit her face perfectly. That shifted something for me. I started to see my own features differently, and over time, others began to reflect that back to me in a more positive way.

It felt like I was being seen in the same way I was seeing myself.

To me, attention feels like a direction of energy. We can’t see it, but we experience it. It shapes how we move through the world and how the world seems to respond to us. Whether we are aware of it or not, it is always there.

What we focus on—what we think about, what we give time to—becomes part of the way we experience life. It also becomes part of how we are perceived.

I don’t always remember this, and I don’t always believe it in the moment. Just yesterday I had an experience that brought it back to the surface again.

I was out for a long walk in my neighborhood and passed a dog barking loudly behind an invisible fence. I knew I would have to pass the same dog again on my way back. The barking was disruptive to what had otherwise been a peaceful walk, and the dog itself seemed agitated.

I started thinking about energy and what it might mean to approach the situation differently. As I walked by again, I intentionally shifted my focus toward a sense of calm and openness. Almost immediately, the barking stopped.

For a moment, I felt like I had figured something out. But then the dog started barking again. It made me laugh, because I realized I had shifted from calm to control. I had changed the energy I was bringing into the situation.

When I returned to a more open, relaxed state, the barking stopped again and stayed that way as I continued down the street.

It was a simple moment, but a good reminder.

Life is a series of experiences like that—different situations, different “streets,” all offering something to learn. The way we approach them shapes what we experience in return.

If we move through the world with curiosity, openness, and a sense of care, it tends to feel different than when we approach it with tension or resistance.

What you pay attention to pays attention.

So it may be worth paying attention to what you’re paying attention to.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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On Halloween and Our Shadow Side

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

We were made from the universe, so we contain the same elements of the universe. The universe is both dark and light, and so are we.

But who are “we,” really?

If we can agree that we are not our liver or kidneys, even though they are vital organs, is it feasible to agree that we are not the brain either?

If we are not the brain, are “we” what is in the mind—the function of the brain? It would be analogous to saying that we are not detox, which is the function of the liver.

Hopefully the answer is no, because “we” are the substance that hears what the mind is saying. We are the part of the body that isn’t cells or physical substance. Just because it is only us who can hear what our mind is saying doesn’t mean that what the mind says is actually us.

Our mind is influenced by the physical world around us. Jingles in our head, the replaying of conversations, things we’ve watched, and the internal back-and-forth of competing thoughts all arise without effort. If we are able to notice them, then the part that notices is closer to who we are than the part providing the commentary.

That is, if we notice at all. The thoughts, songs, internal dialogues, arguments, and justifications are so constant that we often believe they define us. But that is not the case. Who we are is the witness to this chatter.

I’ll go back to the idea of the angel and devil. How can we claim to be only the “angel,” advocating for the right decisions, when the opposing voice is right there doing the same thing in a different direction? We may align with one side because it reflects our values or what we’ve been taught is right, but the other side still exists within us. It may not be comfortable to acknowledge, but it is no less real. That side is often referred to as the shadow, representing the parts of ourselves we don’t want to admit to having. It can exist outside of our awareness at first, but with attention and self-reflection, it becomes easier to recognize.

Neither the angel nor the devil is who we truly are. We are the part that notices both, and both will influence the decisions we make unless we learn to separate our identity from the constant activity of the mind. One way to begin noticing thoughts more clearly is through practices like meditation, but that is a deeper topic for another time.

The point here is that we are not our thoughts. It is as natural to have both “good” and “bad” thoughts as it is for the day to move between light and dark. Our physical bodies are part of the natural world, and they are governed by the same patterns. Both sides exist, and no human is exempt from this.

Some may have developed a deeper understanding of it, and many teachings point toward recognizing the difference between thought and awareness. Even without formal language for it, this idea has existed in different forms throughout history. We can think of this in terms of different layers of awareness: the unconscious, which regulates automatic functions and influences instinctive reactions; the conscious mind, which contains our thoughts and interpretations; and a deeper level of awareness—the part that observes all of it.

If we don’t recognize that we are not our thoughts, we tend to attach ourselves to the parts we prefer and reject the parts we don’t. We identify with what feels acceptable and try to hide what doesn’t, but that doesn’t remove those parts—it simply keeps them out of sight. Acknowledging the full range of what arises in the mind can create more clarity and allow us to understand what is influencing us, rather than reacting without awareness.

Accepting the presence of both light and dark within ourselves is not about acting on every thought. It is about recognizing that they exist and understanding that they are not the entirety of who we are. In nature, cycles of light and dark are constant. As seasons shift, we move through periods where one is more dominant than the other, but both are always present. The same can be said for us.

There are times of clarity and times of uncertainty, times when things feel lighter and times when they feel heavier. These shifts are not separate from us; they are part of the experience. During certain times of year, particularly as we move into the darker months, these patterns can feel more noticeable. The transition itself can be a reminder that change is constant and that both aspects are necessary.

Accepting that we move between these states can make it easier to navigate them. Not everything needs to be resisted or controlled. Some things can simply be observed and understood.

When I taught yoga regularly, I often used the theme of embracing the unknown during this time of year. I would invite students to consider what they might be avoiding and to allow it to be present, even if it felt uncomfortable. Not everything needs to be solved in the moment. Sometimes the first step is simply noticing.

Embracing the unknown. Facing what feels uncomfortable. Allowing space for both light and dark.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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Demystifying Yoga: Movement over Exercise

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

When I meet someone and they learn that I practice or teach yoga, they almost always feel compelled to share their own experience with it. Sometimes they’ve tried it and didn’t like it, sometimes they love it, and often they follow it with something like, “I’m not flexible,” or “I have an injury,” or simply, “It’s not for me.”

One of my favorite responses to that comes from the owner of the studio where I used to teach. She once said that saying you’re not flexible enough to do yoga is like saying you’re too dirty to take a shower. It usually gets a laugh, but there’s truth in it.

If you’ve never really tried yoga, it’s hard to know what it actually is. For many people, the assumption is that it involves twisting into complicated shapes or keeping up with a fast-paced class. In reality, it’s often much simpler and much more accessible than that.

Yoga is, at its core, movement and breath. The movements are often slow and intentional, and the breath becomes something you begin to notice and work with rather than something that just happens in the background. Most classes are designed so that people at different levels can participate in a way that works for them.

In my experience teaching, many of the students were older or working with limitations, and they kept coming back because they started to notice small changes. Those small shifts—more ease in the body, a bit more clarity in the mind—tend to build over time.

People often come to yoga after an injury or surgery as well. It can be one of the first ways to begin moving again gently. That said, it’s always important to be aware of your own body and any specific conditions you may have. A good instructor can offer ways to modify movements, but the most important guideline is simple: if something doesn’t feel right, don’t push through it.

Yoga is different from what most people think of as exercise. It’s not about keeping pace with others or pushing through discomfort to reach a goal. It’s about paying attention. The teacher offers guidance, but you decide how far to go. There’s no real concept of falling behind, because the practice is happening within your own experience.

Over time, that combination of movement and breath can have a noticeable effect. Physically, people often experience more flexibility, strength, and balance. Mentally, it can help with focus, stress, and overall awareness. But those benefits tend to come as a result of the practice itself, not as something you have to chase.

If you already practice, you likely understand that in your own way. And if you don’t, it might be worth approaching it with a bit of curiosity rather than a fixed idea of what it is or isn’t.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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On Being in the Dark

Posted on by Esterina Anderson

A light breeze blew in from across the street when I opened my blinds and cracked my bedroom window while it was still dark this morning. The sound of the Long Island Sound filled my ears as the semi-salty air drifted into the space where I stood. A bell buoy chimed in the distance. A nearby bird sang. The cool, damp air felt refreshing against my skin in the otherwise still, sleepy room. I took a deep breath and let it all in, appreciating the quiet of that moment in the dark.
I moved through my morning routine and into meditation. Since the clocks changed last week, it is dark again in the early hours, and for a short time we get to watch the sunrise earlier along the horizon. It had rained overnight, and the world felt just a bit more crisp—renewed. I chose a different space to practice this morning, turning off the lights and opening the curtains to let the darkness slowly give way to light.

I stumbled around to find my meditation pillow while carrying a glass of lemon water. My animals moved around me, a little confused and curious about the change in routine. As I felt along the floor for the doorstop, I struggled to find it and eventually had to put everything down to search more carefully.
At some point, I knocked over the water. I heard it spill and felt the dog walk through it moments later. I sat down on the floor, slightly defeated, and then laughed as I felt wet paws and kisses on my face. My mood lifted almost immediately.

There was a lesson in it.

We can’t see well in the dark. We can move through familiar spaces by memory and touch, but our sense of sight is limited. We don’t fully know what is around us—we only know what we remember from when there was light.

Nature ensures that we spend half our time in darkness. Depending on where we are in the world, that balance shifts across the seasons, but the presence of darkness is constant. It’s part of the rhythm.
In many ways, our internal world operates similarly. There is so much we don’t know—about situations, about other people, even about ourselves. When we don’t know something, we are, in a sense, in the dark. Often, we don’t even realize what we don’t know.

There is something humbling in that. Accepting that we are not always seeing clearly can change how we move through the world. It can soften certainty and make room for curiosity.

This becomes especially relevant when we form strong opinions or beliefs. Whether the topic is something as large as politics or something as small as a personal interaction, it’s easy to assume we understand more than we actually do. We operate from our own experiences and perspectives, which feel complete to us, but are still limited.

When we stay open to the possibility that we are only seeing part of the picture, it changes how we listen and respond. It doesn’t mean abandoning our views, but it does mean holding them with a bit more flexibility.

There are countless sources of information, perspectives, and experiences that shape how people see the world. Not all of them reach us, and not all of them are easy to understand. Accepting that we may not have the full picture allows for a different kind of awareness—one that is less rigid and more receptive.

After cleaning up the spilled water as best I could in the dark, I made my way back to my practice. My cats and dog settled around me as I sat, the door slightly open, the cool air still moving through the space.

Without relying on sight, the other senses became more vivid. I noticed the sounds—the birds, the water, the buoy, the distant hum of a car, the steady rhythm of my dog’s breathing. The feel of the air on my skin was more pronounced. Things I might normally overlook became clearer.
As the rain began again, a new layer of sound filled the space. Gradually, the darkness gave way to light, and with it, my attention shifted back toward what I could see. It became easier to rely on sight and, in doing so, easier to overlook everything else.

There is something in that as well. Our strongest sense can sometimes become the one that limits us the most.

My animals seemed to take the whole morning in stride. The change in routine, the spilled water, the unfamiliar movements—it was all simply part of what was happening. They adapted without resistance.

There’s something to learn from that.

When we accept that we don’t—and can’t—know everything, it becomes easier to move through the world with a bit more ease. We make decisions with the information we have, understanding that it may not be complete. That awareness can feel less like a limitation and more like a kind of freedom.
It allows space for learning, for adjustment, and for seeing things we might otherwise miss.
And perhaps that’s part of the rhythm, too—moving between what we can see and what we can’t, knowing that both are always present.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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