After completing nearly 43 trips around the sun, I know that the direction we are supposed to take at different points in our lives can seem unclear and even confusing. I mostly make choices based on what my intuition tells me and that usually serves me well. But once in a while, absolute clarity presents itself while I am decision-making and that is what happened to me recently.
And when things become clear, I can often see a thread of seemingly unconnected incidents, inklings, conversations, and thoughts can be connected and lead to a decision or new life choice.
So what am I even talking about? MY PATH TO AYURVEDA! It started when I enrolled in aromatherapy studies in early 2018. Various lessons referred to Ayurveda and everything I read made sense, seemed balanced, and like something I would want to learn about.
While studying for some aromatherapy classes late winter/early spring, I read about Ayurveda self-care tips and listened to a podcast (LifeSpa with John Douillard) that benefited my digestive health in a big way. I bought a few of the recommended herbs, began taking them after meals, and guess what? My digestion is about 98% better than it was before I started taking them. But more about these herbs in another post…
Then, about three weeks ago I began thinking of what I could add to my aromatherapy studies to round out my consulting services. I really wanted to be able to offer clients a whole life approach for helping them with their wellness goals. Traditional life coaching programs didn’t seem to have what I was searching for.
One evening, I typed in “holistic life coach” or “wellness coach” and stumbled upon Ayurveda programs. I signed up for a free three-hour course from Kerala Ayurveda and loved it. Right after that, I signed up for a three part mini-course from Cate Stillman at yogahealer.com. I recommend both of these schools based on what I learned in their free courses. I became obsessed with Ayurveda training and began researching other online schools. Of course, I had one minor obstacle: I couldn’t afford to enroll in any of them.
Around the same time, I had my friend Laurie Petrisin over for lunch and a painting afternoon. While we were painting, she shared how she listens to Wholetones by Michael Tyrell during prayer/meditation. Being curious, I looked up free music on Spotify that was in different frequencies and found several playlists. My favorite is 528 Hz, the frequency of transformation and miracles. Apparently it’s the same frequency that the sun emits!
I began listening to a playlist of 528 Hz when I was in the car and for a few minutes every day. I also purchased two books about abundance, which I am currently reading and gleaning much wisdom from, and will share with you when I’m done.
In my head, I knew Ayurveda school was out of the question right now because of my financial situation, but in my heart I felt full of anticipation and joy, like I was a child expecting Christmas morning to come. Really, I can’t explain it other than I wanted this so much and kept focusing on Ayurveda school and looking for free or inexpensive courses I might be able to take in the meantime.
Then, a couple of Saturdays ago, the idea of scholarships popped into my head. So I typed “Ayurveda scholarship” into the search bar. The first few results were unsuccessful, but I landed on Yoga Veda Institue which had a scholarship application. This was crazy because when I searched for aromatherapy scholarships and herbal studies scholarships last year, I never found anything. I though alternative health studies had no scholarship programs. I thought wrong!
So I spent a couple of hours on the application and clicked “Send”. For the next day and a half, I was full of anticipation and excitement and butterflies in my stomach. Late on Sunday night, I got an email from Yoga Veda informing me that I had received a 75% scholarship for their two year program!!! I was over the moon with gratitude and I still am! What made me so incredulous was that I was able to make the change in my mind and heart from “Oh, that only happens to other people” to “Why not me?”
If you have no idea what Ayurveda is, check out Cate Stillman’s book Body Thrive, which I’m reading right now and watch her free video mini-course at yogahealer.com. She brings an ancient tradition like Ayurveda into the 21st century and takes away a lot of the “woo-woo” that might lead you to dismiss it with a modern, skeptical wave of the hand.
Anyway, so the takeaway points here are: 1. That we all may have dreams that might seem impossible. But if you begin to stir up the inner desire for that dream and visualize where you want to go/what you want to do, listen to positive messages on the abundance mind and heart, who knows what might happen? Because, why not you, right?
2. My journey to Ayurveda was a process of hearing about it, learning about it, seeing an aspect of it work in my body (the herbs), finding out that there were programs, listening to music and messages about abundance and growing my faith level to believe it could happen to me, and then applying for the scholarship while facing the possibility of rejection. While I was living it, I didn’t see the dots connected, but looking back the path is clear. That’s always the way, right?
Once there was a man who filmed his vacation. He went flying down the river in his boat with his video camera to his eye, making a moving picture of the moving river upon which his sleek boat moved swiftly toward the end of his vacation. He showed his vacation to his camera, which pictured it, preserving it forever: the river, the trees, the sky, the light, the bow of his rushing boat behind which he stood with his camera preserving his vacation even as he was having it so that after he had had it he would still have it. It would be there. With a flick of a switch, there it would be. But he would not be in it. He would never be in it.
It’s ripe, the melon by our sink. Yellow, bee-bitten, soft, it perfumes the house too sweetly. At five I wake, the air mournful in its quiet. My wife’s eyes swim calmly under their lids, her mouth and jaw relaxed, different. What is happening in the silence of this house? Curtains hang heavily from their rods. Ficus leaves tremble at my footsteps. Yet the colors outside are perfect– orange geranium, blue lobelia. I wander from room to room like a man in a museum: wife, children, books, flowers, melon. Such still air. Soon the mid-morning breeze will float in like tepid water, then hot. How do I start this day, I who am unsure of how my life has happened or how to proceed amid this warm and steady sweetness?
You can find this poem in Skunk Talk by Albert Garcia.
She had forgotten how the August night Was level as a lake beneath the moon, In which she swam a little, losing sight Of shore; and how the boy, who was at noon Simple enough, not different from the rest, Wore now a pleasant mystery as he went, Which seemed to her an honest enough test Whether she loved him, and she was content. So loud, so loud the million crickets’ choir. . . So sweet the night, so long-drawn-out and late. . . And if the man were not her spirit’s mate, Why was her body sluggish with desire? Stark on the open field the moonlight fell, But the oak tree’s shadow was deep and black and secret as a well.
You can find this poem in Collected Poems by Edna St. Vincent Millay.
Sweet smell of phlox drifting across the lawn— an early warning of the end of summer. August is fading fast, and by September the little purple flowers will all be gone.
Season, project, and vacation done. One more year in everybody’s life. Add a notch to the old hunting knife Time keeps testing with a horny thumb.
Over the summer months hung an unspoken aura of urgency. In late July galactic pulsings filled the midnight sky like silent screaming, so that, strangely woken,
we looked at one another in the dark, then at the milky magical debris arcing across, dwarfing our meek mortality. There were two ways to live: get on with work,
redeem the time, ignore the imminence of cataclysm; or else take it slow, be as tranquil as the neighbors’ cow we love to tickle through the barbed wire fence (she paces through her days in massive innocence, or, seeing green pastures, we imagine so).
In fact, not being cows, we have no choice. Summer or winter, country, city, we are prisoners from the start and automatically, hemmed in, harangued by the one clamorous voice.
Not light but language shocks us out of sleep ideas of doom transformed to meteors we translate back to portents of the wars looming above the nervous watch we keep.
The grasses in the field have toppled, and in places it seems that a large, now absent, animal must have passed the night. The hay will right itself if the day
turns dry. I miss you steadily, painfully. None of your blustering entrances or exits, doors swinging wildly on their hinges, or your huge unconscious sighs when you read something sad, like Henry Adams’s letters from Japan, where he traveled after Clover died.
Everything blooming bows down in the rain: white irises, red peonies; and the poppies with their black and secret centers lie shattered on the lawn.
One of my favorite parts of summer is fresh vegetables, fruits, and herbs. Especially those which are grown nearby. Our local CSA farm, Sweet Land Farm, is now bursting with goodness from the earth (and the hard work of the farmers).
What I love is walking into the distribution shed every Tuesday afternoon, breathing in the heady, spicy scent of sweet Basil mixed with all the other veggies and the artisan bread that a local bread business sells. Even though I can’t eat “real” bread, I love the aroma! This CSA is where I learned to know so many greens–Kale, Swiss chard, Arugula, Broccoli raab–and, thus, learned to cook with them.
We all know by now how good for you Kale is, (and read here if you don’t) but not everyone gets as happy as I do about eating it. Have you tried making pesto with it? I’ve made delicious pestos with Arugula and Parsley, and, of course, Basil, so I’m not sure why I waited this long to try Kale pesto. You can use it just like any other pesto on pasta, zoodles, added to soups or marinara sauce, to name a few.
My recipe is simple and adjustable–add more garlic, lemon, salt, or olive oil to suit your taste.
Kale Pesto
3-4 cups of Kale leaves, rinsed, stems removed
1/2-1 cup Basil leaves, rinsed
2-4 garlic cloves
juice from 1/2 lemon
1/4-1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4-1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/4 cup walnuts or pecans
1/4-1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
Put everything (except the olive oil) in the food processor, place the top on (with veggie chute removed), and turn it on while adding the olive oil in a steady stream. Stop, remove top, scrape with a spatula, and process until smooth. Repeat as necessary. Add more oil if needed and adjust salt, garlic, lemon, and pepper to taste. Store in an airtight container for up to 4 days.
A black cat among roses, Phlox, lilac-misted under a first-quarter moon, The sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock. The garden is very still, It is dazed with moonlight, Contented with perfume, Dreaming the opium dreams of its folded poppies. Firefly lights open and vanish High as the tip buds of the golden glow Low as the sweet alyssum flowers at my feet. Moon-shimmer on leaves and trellises, Moon-spikes shafting through the snow ball bush. Only the little faces of the ladies’ delight are alert and staring, Only the cat, padding between the roses, Shakes a branch and breaks the chequered pattern As water is broken by the falling of a leaf. Then you come, And you are quiet like the garden, And white like the alyssum flowers, And beautiful as the silent sparks of the fireflies. Ah, Beloved, do you see those orange lilies? They knew my mother, But who belonging to me will they know When I am gone.
Life of Kim 