“Think of today as an entire lifetime," Wise Woman says to me before I fall asleep.
"What was the hardest part in this lifetime? Notice where you sense that hardship in your body. How did you get through it?" We somehow managed to make it to the end of this day, the end of this lifetime.
"What was the most joyful part of this lifetime?" Every day and every lifetime, no matter how hard, contains moments of joy. Notice what made it joyful. Sense what feels like joy in your body.
"What are you most grateful for in this lifetime? Every day and every lifetime offers a new reason for gratitude. Sense that gratitude in your body.
"Now, are you ready to let go of this lifetime? Are you ready to think of the work you have done today and know that it was enough? Are you ready to behold everyone and everything you have ever known and loved, kiss them, and let them go? Are you ready to die a kind of death?"
Each night, I die a kind of death. Each morning, I wake to the gift of a new lifetime. In between, I labor in love. It is enough.
- Valarie Kaur, See No Stranger: A Memoir and Manifesto of Revolutionary Love
I used to think routines were for boring, non-creative people. As a creative myself, I thought that freedom was wild and untameable and that structure was the thief of joy.
My teenagehood and early 20s were defined by my own desperation to seem free. I wanted to be that girl. The one who goes with the flow without hesitancy; the one who is always chill and lives on the edge of the unknown. But I'm not a ride or die chick—like that meme we've probably all seen—I have many questions. Where are we going and do we have to die? Maybe we could actually just sit in a park and chill for a bit?
With time, I learned to start questioning that concept of freedom—but it took a while.
It feels uncool to want structure. I grew up with effortlessly cool seeming role models and an idealization of the free spirit (hello, Marissa Cooper). Structure and stability were anti-joy, anti-fun, anti-adventure, and through that, subconsciously, I learned that boundaries were anti-joy, anti-fun, anti-adventure.
Research shows that the happiest kids are the ones who understand boundaries. Kids who grow up without boundaries feel more insecure, defensive, and combative, and that extends into adulthood. When we don't have consistency or clear expectations in our daily lives and relationships, we don't feel stable. We don't feel safe.
I spent a lot of my life thinking that boundaries were meant to be pushed and overturned and sacrificing my feeling of safety for others. But I'm learning to embrace boundaries, structure, and routine as vessels for joy, safety, and confidence.
To feel joy is to feel safe. To feel safe is to feel stable. To feel stable is to feel strong in my morals, boundaries, and sense of self.
I realized that all the things that I want in life—positive and respectful relationships, fulfilling work, confidence, and adventure—weren't just going to show up one day as I ride-or-die my way through life. They started to show up when I began committing to them.
An example is when I began dedicating myself to yoga asana. How was it that I could move through the same set of poses over and over again and not get bored? It went against what I thought I knew about routines. In time, I started seeing the subtle differences each time I showed up on the mat. I began to pay attention to the nuances of my movement, the changes in my breath, and the fluctuations of my thoughts. And the set of poses became less and less important.
There's something beautiful about coming back to the same place every day and seeing how we show up differently every single time—whether that's a yoga mat or meditation seat, a street corner or park bench, or even a time of day. Routines, rituals, and boundaries soothe us; they provide consistency, stability, and predictability in our busy lives and relationships.
Every day is a new lifetime—like in the Valerie Kaur quote above—and the one predictability of life is its unpredictability. Within this impermanence, we have an inherent need to feel safe, stable, secure, held, and seen.
Structure is the framework to get us there. Structure is safety. Structure is joy. Structure is freedom. ✨
Yoga of movement ✨
I'm teaching online and in person at the beginning of the week. No weekend classes as I'll be at Lost Village!
Tuesday ✨ Rejuvenate 45 (book)
Wednesday ✨ Power yoga 60 *in person* (£6 drop-in)
Sunday ✨ Restore and rejuvenate at Lost Village *in person* (book)
Please try to sign up at least 3 hours before the start of class, and if you can't make it in real-time, you'll get the recording in your email.
I'm also available for private and corporate classes. I'm offering complimentary corporate classes to nonprofit and not-for-profit organizations. Reply to this email if you're interested!
Yoga of action ✨
I'm tithing 10% of my income from my online yoga classes to organizations that fight against white supremacy. Every month, I'll pick a new charity and highlight it below. If these charities call to you, please consider contributing (no matter how small).
My August donation will go to Survival International, a global nonprofit and movement decolonizing conservation and supporting tribal peoples’ rights. 80% of Earth’s biodiversity is in tribal territories and when indigenous peoples have secure rights over their land, they protect the land at a fraction of the cost of conventional conservation programs. But governments and NGOs are stealing vast parts of land from indigenous communities under the claim that this is necessary for conservation. Survival works in partnership with tribes to amplify their voices on the global stage, stop human rights abuses committed in the name of conservation, and put indigenous peoples in control of wildlife protection.
Have a suggested charity? Leave a comment to share.
Yoga of words ✨
Grab a pen, grab your journal. Have a seat somewhere comfortable. Close your eyes, take a breath in, and let it go. Your weekly writing prompt is below.
What are the tastes of your childhood? The family recipes or secret tips passed on through the generations? What do these foods taste like? Who do you eat them with? (15 minutes)
This prompt is part of a project I've created with KindRedPacket called Stories of Our Heritage. Stories of Our Heritage is a virtual storytelling campaign celebrating ESEA heritage and intergenerational connection through personal stories. Inspired by Humans of New York, we’re inviting all people who identify as East or Southeast Asian as well as their friends and allies to submit personal stories about their love and connection to the ESEA culture. If you'd like to submit a story, you can do so here.
Feel free to share what you've written by clicking the link below. Of course, you’re also welcome to keep this practice as just yours.
Other musings ✨
*screams unenlightened* (Instagram)
The lifecycle of a monarch (Instagram)
Vacation and the art of presence (Brain Pickings)
Don't hurt your own feelings (Cruel Summer Book Club)
Sign the petition to reform the Jim Crow Filibuster (Color of Change)
Struggling—and failing—to save the family of the Afghan family who saved me (The New Yorker)
On repeat: California by Lorde (Spotify)
I'm here for you—for class, for advice, for anything that you need or would like to share. Always a phone call/text/DM/reply button away.
LBC ✨
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