Tag Archives: meditation

All about the yarrow.

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Trust and Respect

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Me and My Shadow [Self]

Like the wallpaper sticks to the wall
Like the seashore clings to the sea
Like you’ll never get rid of your shadow
Frank, you’ll never get rid of me
~ Sammy Davis Jr and Frank Sinatra in the song “Me and My Shadow”

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Brazil and My Life-Changing Question

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, 2007

By the end of 2006, I was spiritually at one of my all-time lows. I repeatedly questioned my own existence in this world in a very “George Bailey” sort of way (James Stewart’s character in the 1946 film “It’s A Wonderful Life”), that maybe the world would be best without me. To be honest, I used to think about that pretty regularly for several years. But this time around, I had a son on the way so I snapped out of it quickly, especially after our trip to Brazil in 2007. Continue reading

Is It All Me?

Today’s 1-hr neigong sitting was monumentally difficult. Although I¬†felt the white light vibrations grow from within and seep into me from without, I was a bit too attached to my monkey ass mind. But it was my first 1-hr sitting since my qigong workshop a few weeks ago, so I wasn’t so hard on myself. Actually, I’ve grown to rarely be hard on myself. In cultivation practice just like anything else, you’ll always have “good” days and “bad” days. Continue reading

The Wolverine Journey

Several years ago when I first started studying the more esoteric healing art of Clinical Qigong (wai qi liao fa), my Qigong Master spoke at length about the the commonalities that Taoist Qigong, and Native American Shamanism shared. For instance, he would learn some practices from a Native American Shaman, and then fly to China to visit his Qigong Master to show him what he learned. His Qigong Master would nod his head in delight and do virtually the exact same thing that’s already within his own Qigong technique. There’s a universality in Taoist Qigong practices and Native American Shamanism: It’s all Shamanism. Continue reading

New York City

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Hugging the Big Apple

It’s been three years since I’ve visited the “concrete jungle where dreams are made of,” and I’ve missed it. I can’t even describe the feeling that I get as I step foot out of the airport and head towards Manhattan. The excitement, hopes, and dreams of every¬†person who has ever called New York “home” all wrap around me like a blanket, reminding me that home is where my heart is… and dare I say, my heart belongs to New York City. Continue reading