Small Change, Big Hearts. Three Yogis Return to Haiti.

Most yogis are gnawed by nature to explore. We feel compelled to take steps, even leaps, into the unknown, just to see what we’re made of. We flip upside down, methodically, with fully focused breath, attempting to tangle and untangle our legs, spines, guts, not knowing where we’ll land, just steeped with desire to discover something new. We’re a compassionate bunch too. Especially the two women I went to Haiti with this year. They’re equal parts kindness and sincerity coupled with knowledge and strength. They will listen intently to your stories, understand your plights, and use every emotional tool in their arsenal to support you through highs and lows. They are the essence of humanity, they wish only for good, and you feel that deep within your bones. They make me better.

Veronica Rottman, Diana Oppenheim and I continued the effort we started last year: teaching Yoga to oncology patients and staff at Partners in Health in Mirebalais (Cange, last year), Haiti. This year, we expanded that project. All three of us spent the better part of a year teaching fundraising classes and workshops, hosting events, and spreading awareness about Yogis Can Help, our philanthropic effort to spread Yoga to those underserved. Haiti is our passion project, after a successful and rewarding first trip, we were all extremely jazzed to return and build upon the foundation we laid down.

There were nerves in planning the trip back. We had no Jessie Stoop this year, our angel oncology nurse who was pivotal in making our first trip happen, let alone making it joyous, informative and exceedingly fun. No Jesse. No Cange. No clue what to expect, just like the first year. We knew we had to strap in and adapt, be ready for anything. The beauty of most travel experiences arrives through the unpredictability, the surprises. We were in for it and couldn’t wait.

Veronica got busy learning Creole from an amazing student of hers, Paul Karner, a man who’d spent much of his childhood visiting Haiti, and has since established a nonprofit in Jacmel recording Haitian musicians. Not only did he teach Veronica how to teach Yoga in Creole, he connected us with his friend, Alland, arranged for safe transport from Port au Prince to Jacmel and back, paid a local Haitian woman, Dede, in Jacmel to cook for us, ensured we had a Haitian phone and stayed in constant communication with us throughout our trip. He is, and was, a godsend.

From the Jacmel Music School

For some reason Diana and I each decided to leave Chicago (for men, of course, and we only sort of regret it), so in the midst of transition, we stayed organized with each other, Veronica communicating with our beloved social worker, Oldine, along with the elegant and lovely, Lazenya, to nail down the logistics of our return trip. As V and I finished up a few fundraisers at our home studios, Diana worked tirelessly on a stellar teacher training manual for the few Haitian locals we’d be leading this time around.

We learned our mat and equipment donations were nowhere to be found this year so we collected what we could, packed our bags, gathered a slew of snack foods and embarked on our second trip to the Caribbean. V couldn’t wait to be warm again. We all couldn’t wait to be together, to share what we love with such deserving people, and to do what we love together. It is a gift to collaborate with such intelligent and thoughtful people. I cannot imagine a better learning and loving experience than that.

Veronica and I arrived first. It felt nice to commemorate our first trip together by teaching our patients (some who’d returned from the previous year) again. We both felt even more at ease this time around, something about the familiarity of Haiti, these kind and resilient people made us feel right at home. And again, they were so grateful and receptive to Yoga. They breathed like they were taking in nectar, transitioned from pose to pose with presence and a keen sense of humor. Five minutes in and we were reminded exactly why we could not wait to come back.

Diana joined us later that evening for our first staff class. It’s an incredible juxtaposition teaching patients in Creole and staff in English. The energy is vastly different but the thread-lines are the same. The personnel in Marebalais work so hard, often without breaks, and despite them being in the medical and health profession, they spend so much energy taking care of others that they frequently forget about themselves. So to provide an opportunity where they can put themselves on the list, move their bodies in a way that feels soothing, invigorating, relaxing, and even playful, breathe in a way that’s therapeutic, and be responsible for nothing but their own bliss, was a tremendous gift to give.

From the first day on, patients and staff were game. And that felt so good, to help people feel better than they did before. The three of us collaborated really well, each of our personalities and skill-sets complimenting the other’s. It became increasingly more fun and natural to teach in Creole, so much so that switching back to English felt odd. What a massage for the brain and heart, sharing our passions with a new culture of people, in their environment and in their language. It was such a pure exchange. I felt nothing but love.

We were amped to discover we had 5 teacher trainees that we’d spend a few hours a day teaching between our patient and staff classes. The social work goddess that is Oldine was one of our shining students, amongst the sweet and young, Monise, the father and husband, Petie, friend and PiH staffer, Viarjella, and handsome Latin dancer, Sam. We discovered quickly the unique challenge of not only leading a condensed Yoga teacher training in one week to those who speak another language, but the all encompassing task of teaching them Yoga in general.

Words cannot express, they can only cheapen and minimize how rewarding that week was in the northern mountains of Haiti. Each class with the patients got progressively better, more fluid, more playful, more loving. Same can be said for the staff classes, which we ended epically, on a rooftop overlooking sunset, with three adorable kiddos added to our student mix. But somehow even that didn’t compare to the teacher training experience.

Each day we returned to our ward to find Petie reading over his manual and often practice teaching with Oldine. We were so pleasantly surprised how game they each were to get up and practice teach from even the first day. Oldine’s personality, her superb language skills, and her graceful body showcased her natural teaching talents. Sam had exquisite body awareness and a cheeky eye, even in Creole we could tell when he was being funny. What really uplifted us and brought out the proud momma tears were Monise and Petie.

Monise is young, 22 at most, tall, narrow, stylish, big white smile, stunning dark skin. She’s soft spoken, much of our encouragement involved owning her voice and natural talents, which improved exponentially as the days went on. Through our friends in the staff, Megan, Jonah, Jo and many others, we learned Monise’s life had been difficult to say the least. To have even this small opportunity to learn with us made Monise beam from ear to ear, head to toe, she was a beautiful bright light.

Toward the end of the week Monise assisted, on her own volition, our patient classes. With confidence and grace she lovingly placed her hands on their bodies and guided them into better alignment, supported them in deeper breaths. Hugging Monise goodbye was very difficult, I didn’t want that joy in her eyes to go away. All we can hope is Yoga has inspired her to find solace in everyday living, in helping others, in the simplicity of being.

Petie is a social worker in Mirebalais as well, in his 40’s, very strong, buff even, with puppy dog eyes and a very sincere smile. While in Haiti we learn to relax and go with Haitian time. That means if class starts at 10, don’t expect to truly start until 1030. Let people matriculate in as they can. It’s the perfect setting for Yoga where we attempt to embrace timelessness and dissolve into the moment. Petie somehow was very aware of time, showing up early for training each day, asking questions and reviewing what we’d already learned. Him and Monise were certainly most improved and we, as their teachers, are thrilled to hear how they progress in the future.

After a tearful goodbye to the beauties in Mirebalais, we then journeyed back down to Port au Prince to meet Alland for a ride to Jacmel. We’d visited Jacmel the year prior, although the experience was very sheltered, almost specifically designed for 1st world westerners to feel safe and comfortable. We were grateful for the experience, of course, and Jacmel is exquisitely beautiful, but we certainly didn’t experience the same “slice of life” normalcy as we did staying in and exploring Port au Prince and Cange.

This year was very nearly the opposite. We got the eye-opening, challenging life experience we didn’t even realize we needed as we stayed three days in home right smack in the middle of Jacmel. It was humbling. Heartbreaking. Difficult. We are not high maintenance women. It doesn’t take much to please us. We love camping, relish showering in bodies of natural water, and have no qualms about squatting to do our business. But this was more than that.

We were confronted with the true reality of how 92% of Haitians live, day in and day out, in dilapidated structures with no real protection from the elements. It is exceedingly hot, incredibly loud, and unclean to a worrisome level. What’s worse, the situation for an even bigger population of Haitians in Port au Prince is even more dire. Most are still stuck in tents, surrounded by garbage (a governmental issue), unclean water, and thousands upon thousands of people.

We felt uncomfortable but, more than that, we felt guilty as hell that this was merely a temporary experience for us, and a permanent circumstance for many others. We felt so helpless, so overwhelmed. We respected the Haitian people more than to pity them but we could not help but feel they deserved so much better. And it was within those complex emotions that we rediscovered the beauty of this amazing country.

Most are acutely aware of their endemic poverty, of their limited choices, and of their challenges inherent in being born in their country, but they waste little time on complaining. They get on with it, they hustle, they smile, they survive. Makes me disgusted by any complaints over first world problems. Never again.

During those three days we had the fortune of riding motorcycles through the busy streets of Jacmel, into and out of shallow streams, around winding mountain roads, and deep into the jungle to Basin Blu, where the giant rocks and streaming waterfalls awaited our playfulness. On our second trip back, we were guided intelligently by a few helpful locals, who held our hands as we traversed slippery rocks and climbed up and down the mountain side until we reached the water.

We jumped in with enthusiasm, swam like children, climbed and fell off of slippery rocks, and smiled until our cheeks almost went numb. After, we took a brisk 40 minute ride to Kabik, our favorite beach from the previous year. We stopped for some delicious seafood, rum cocktails and Haiti’s own Prestige, and enjoyed our treats in the sand, listening to waves crash just feet away. We lounged, walked, collected shells, bought straw hats, played with kiddos, stood on our hands, and talked endlessly with each other throughout that beautiful day.

V, D & Me

Haitian men. Kind. Handsome. Helpful.

We endured some very challenging experiences together that trip, many positive, a few negative. In the interest of privacy and keeping our hearts and conversations light, I’ll keep those negative experiences to ourselves. They simply reiterated my love and appreciation for yogis, especially the two I had by my side. We had each other’s backs, uplifted each others hearts, and helped care for each other’s bodies (in that sweet, homeopathic way only yogis know how to care).

We returned to Port au Prince to find Paul had set us up with one of the nicest hotels we’d seen in a long time, anywhere. It wasn’t particularly fancy or opulent, but simply so different than anything we’d experienced in Haiti before. We were nestled up in the hills, able to take our first real warm shower in 10 days, rest on a comfortable bed in a clean room, and surf the internet by the pool. I felt spoiled. In exploring the grounds I discovered that within feet of our luxurious stay were thousands of tents full of everyday people and everyday living. I couldn’t help but feel guilty, yet again.

This gave us time to pause and reflect on our trip. And that space gave us the clarity we’d only barely understood the first time around. Haiti doesn’t need our guilt, our sympathy, our pity, even simple handouts. They need a helping hand, human compassion, eye to eye contact and a voice that says with sincerity, “We can help you climb out of this.” They need upward mobility, options, a future. They need people who sincerely give a shit.

We don’t delude ourselves into thinking we’ve drastically changed the landscape of Haiti, nor can we ignore the onslaught of “privileged white people” taking trips to help the impoverished in a third world country. We went because we love people. Yoga has connected us deeper into being human beings and that only inspires us to connect with more beings, especially those vastly different than us.

We know we get even more out of our trips to Haiti than we aim to give but we try our damn best. We give our hearts, our energy, our skills, our dollars and donations combined with the support from many other kind-hearted souls who believe in our cause, and we try to leave a positive impact on the people we encounter. And I believe we have.

Couldn't imagine two better people to experience this with, we have a good time;)

I’ll never forget the hugs, the smiles, the tears, the smells, the sunsets, the lessons, and most importantly, the love. This experience, just like Haiti, is a gift. We cannot wait to return. And I cannot wait to share more with these beautiful women whom I’m honored to call fellow yogis. They’ve helped me fall deeper in love with others and with the gift of being alive. Thank you, Veronica and Diana. Thank you, students and supporters. Thank you, patients and staff in Mirebalais. Thank you, Paul, Alland and Jacmel. Thank you, Haiti <3

Yogi Fight Club: Last Week in Bali

It’s difficult to put into words what this experience has meant to and done for me, particularly because I’ve just recently closed out a week full of mostly silence, without reading and writing. I feel cleansed, thanks to the Sacred Water Temple. I feel I’ve shed a skin, I have a lovely mark on my stomach to prove it. I feel beautiful, and I’m no longer afraid to say it. 

This last week studying Yoga in Bali had me exploring deeper within myself than I’d yet to go, even here, where I’ve excavated years of fossilized baggage from my psyche, stress in my underbelly, disbelief in my heart. I truly feel I’ve washed it all away. I sit here back in Los Angeles filled with resounding hope, truly thrilled to take what I’ve learned, along with my renewed self into the teaching world. 

In our last week at Soulshine, me and my fellow Mukti yogis practiced Kriya Yoga. Dating back as old as Yoga itself, there isn’t much written or known about Kriya, except to those who’ve delved into it. It is intended to be a very personal experience, the discipline of Kriya taking you deeper into yourself, your karmas, and ultimately, deeper into your awakening. I felt so grateful to have this experience in Bali, and to be led so beautifully by my teacher, Julie Rader. 

 

Our group of yogis at Soulshine were so jovial and energetic. We laughed constantly and grew in our practice with the help of discussion, self deprecation, and encouragement. The Kriyas required a quiet and calm focus most of us weren’t used to, along with some fascinating practices most weren’t even familiar. Naturally, with the unfamiliar comes discomfort, a desperate need to make sense of what we were doing, to understand the whys and hows, even though we weren’t yet ready to know. 

So in discussing these issues with our fellow students and teachers, we were reminded the Kriyas are not spoken, nor are they written. They’re passed down from teacher to student, open practitioner from wise master. A part of the journey is going in, seeking answers from no other source but our own, not needing to express and project every experience we have, but instead, allowing the stillness within to reveal solutions to the challenges that arise. 

Being a bit of a jokester, needing myself and others to feel at ease, to feel grounded, I couldn’t help but joke, “This is totally the yoga fight club. First rule, you don’t talk about kriya club. That’s the second rule too. Shut up and Be.” It’s certainly not as harsh as I make it out, it’s quite amazing actually, but I found the silence and solitude portion of this practice most humbling and most enlightening. 

This was our last week in Ubud, our last week together, this new group falling in hard love with each other, the intensive experience creating stronger bonds many of us didn’t even feel with some family, so the silence was both a great challenge and a magnificent gift. We were able to connect deeply through eye contact, subtle touch, a conscious understanding, without needing to cloud it all with language and letters. 

A particular joy during that week was Julie’s 1 year old, Samson. Already the buddha baby, the cutest fricken thing you’d ever lay eyes on, he had a wisdom in his eyes and a calmness in his being. And he’s a baby! He had many loving caretakers in Bali, each taking turns holding him, feeding him, singing to him. It was during our silent meals that Samson seemed the most lively, picking up on our unusually quiet energy, he made strong efforts to make us all laugh. Targeting us one by one, with eye contact, a cute little wave, the most peculiar and adorable noises, he’d have us all in the giggles, an awesome reminder not to take ourselves too seriously. 

Samson and one of my favorite men in Bali, Paht Tang Gu

I had to constantly remind myself, just because I’m silent, doesn’t mean I’m depressed or stoic. If anything, I should emote even more than I already do! I just beam my smile from one end of the sky to the other, flail my hands and arms bigger, lift my eyebrows higher, dance weirder, hop around like a crazy person. The point of the silence and stillness was to become more alert, more aware, increase the quality of my sense perceptions and feel MORE. And that’s precisely what happened. 

A 430 wake up call sent us all to our neti pots, up to the studio for a little warm up, some pranayama, and whatever else we needed to prepare for the Kriya practice. The sky still pitch black, the earth quiet except for the echoing sounds of nature, we delved right in. Over two hours later, we were finished. Having about an hour until breakfast, we each silently left the studio on our own time and proceeded to meander about the grounds of Soulshine absorbing our surroundings. We saw things we weren’t keyed into before, heard sounds as if they were brand new, felt textures our skin had never touched. It was poignant, the difference was palpable. 

We were able to speak in the afternoon and up until we finished our dinner, many of us choosing to set a rule that silence began only when you left the table, so we’d linger for a few extra minutes, sometimes hours, to treasure the conversation and laughter together. That last week was so special. We were revealing truths about ourselves, our fears, our circumstances, that we’d yet to even utter to anyone, feeling the catharsis and release from the simple expression, and the connection with each other. 

I’d sneak in naps during our mid morning break. I couldn’t manage to fall asleep before midnight that week, something about wanting to savor every waking moment in Bali before it ended. I spent a couple more afternoons at Seniman, making friends with fellow cafe patrons, the very amenable staff, and my muse. I spent one of my last evenings in Bali riding on the back of a motorcycle for the first time, visiting a large wood carving gallery that amazed and humbled me, watching shooting stars at night on a desolate beach, and capturing the essence of the Balinese and the Bali way of life so I could perhaps bring some of that magic back to the States. 

Our last day together was one of the most special in my life. The last Kriya practice was transformative, the last Classical Sivananda practice led by Julie was so grounding, and our last playful class with Christy so uplifting. The day was warm and bright, not to sound corny but there was some legit love in the air, and just a tiny bit of sadness over the impending end. I sincerely did not want to leave, my mind was bargaining, somehow finding ways I could stay, completely forgetting the life and loved ones waiting for me back home. Bali was so transformative and life altering, it had me saying fuck it to my past, I can start over here! 

Some Mandala Yogini Warrior 3 Love 

Our closing ceremonies together were nothing short of momentous. I’d never experienced the joyful explosion of a Love Bomb before, from either end, but I was fortunate to that day. We all sat mandala style, side by side in a circle of love, while one of our fellow yoginis lay in svasana in the middle. With no rhyme, reason, or order, we just expressed words that came to mind when thinking of that person. Shouting love bombs popcorn style, we’d engulf our friend in a sea of love, appreciation and support. Most of us couldn’t escape this without tears. 

Sealing the beauty and the training in, our teachers lovingly placed a bindi on each of our 3rd eyes, after which we walked and stood in front of each yogi, one by one saying to the other, “I AM a Teacher,” with the other lovingly acknowledging, “You ARE a Teacher.” We leaned in and touched bindis, third eye to third eye, our consciousness hugging. It was so monumentally powerful, soul shattering, no bullshit. I cannot escape this memory still. It will live in me forever. 

Each one of our turns in the love bomb and bindi circle was unique, as each one of us are distinct women in our own right. My experience was particularly emotional. My personality is naturally dynamic, vocal, expressive, and passionate. I am confident in many aspects of myself but have real trouble believing I deserve love, security and abundance 100% of the time. I resist out of guilt, out of worry the universe will see my confidence as arrogance, out of fear of shining my own light. 

During one very therapeutic circle earlier in the training, we each took turns sharing our intentions, one by one my fellow yogis shared with courage their specific struggles, and their hopes for transcendence beyond Bali. It was during this powerful conversation that the famous piece from Marianne Williamson was read, the passage below:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d heard this before, read this before, but only now, in Bali, surrounded by encouraging teachers, friends, a circle of trust I suppose, that I recognized my cycle. I am afraid of my own power. I see so much good in myself, I see so much light in my being, I see so much uniqueness in me, but something in me holds me back from really living it out loud. I share fragments, I indulge in facets, but I have yet to allow the totality of my being radiate the joy, love, and the pure exuberance I feel I carry, the full woman I AM. 

So I shared my intention. I said, “I think I’m a badass, but I’m afraid to really live it. There’s so much I want to do. I know I’m an excellent, creative teacher, but even now, it feels weird to say it aloud. I want to lead retreats, teach more and more people, share what I have to give. I want to write a book. I want to travel and spread all this energy I have within. I want to embrace myself fully, with love and sincere confidence, without doubt, without question, and I want to feel I deserve to feel that way.” 

So I entered my love bomb truly not knowing what I’d hear, expecting my fellow yogis and friends to shower me with kindness, but still not quite aware of how they saw me, only feeling what it was like to live within my skin. I knew I’d helped people, my students in Chicago and Italy appreciated me, that felt great, but I still couldn’t fully accept their love for some reason. I’ve written in my previous pieces about this, and as I sit in a cafe in LA after a week spent visiting studios, trying to find work in this strange and competitive city, I find these lessons repeating themselves. I’m making sense of them, trying to sink them in, trying desperately to BELIEVE. 

My personal intention for Bali, for 2013, for my life, is to fucking BELIEVE, believe I am worthy, believe in my light, believe I deserve the abundance I’ve already received and believe I deserve the abundance I yearn for in the future, BELIEVE in ME. Fuck, why is it so difficult? I write this with tears in my eyes, an ache in my gut, and shelter over my heart. I write this to release it. I make a promise to you, whoever you are, and to me, whoever the fuck I am, to let it go, for good. I will progress having truly shed the skin, shed the last four letters of my name. I AM DANI. I AM AWESOME. I AM LOVE. AND THAT’S OKAY!

I laid in the middle of my friends, closed my eyes, felt my heart race in anticipation, having watched these beautiful yogis receive before me, feeling the end of this experience upon me, the shift in me already occurring, digging for the courage to continue, hoping to make my friends and teachers proud. The experience was too overwhelming to handle, the tears fell immediately. The love and generosity was too powerful to even comprehend. I could barely hear the words, I just felt sincere LOVE, and I needed to not only believe it, but find it within myself. 

The words I recall hearing from multiple sources were VIBRANT, POWERFUL, PASSIONATE, ENTHUSIASTIC, INSPIRING, LOVING, COURAGEOUS, HUMBLE, a dear friend broke the love with some humor and said SENIMAN!, loved that, then I heard FUTURE MOTHER, I cried further, then I heard DESERVING, and I dissolved. I shed more tears now just at the memory. I owe it to them to carry their belief within me. And I hope they do as well. 

I sobbed as I met the eyes of my peers and proclaimed that I AM A TEACHER, each one lovingly affirming, YOU ARE A TEACHER. I hugged my teachers tight, soiling their shirts with my tears, returned to my mat so full, so alive, so abundant. I must take this with me. They all deserve for me to carry on the Mukti love, and I deserve it too. 

I drew the photo below during our 2nd week, it's supposed to be a visual representation of my intention, my heart surrounded by yogis. I realized recently how this already came to fruition, because this precisely represents the Love Bomb experience.

Our teachers gave us some wise suggestions as to how to healthily transition back home. I experienced some jaded feelings after returning from Haiti, seeing the States as selfish, consumerist, competitive, negative. And we are, not to be negative as well, but we so are. We are a society predicated on individualism, one, rather than oneness. But there are rising pockets of positivity, of collaboration, of connectedness, and the yoga community is filled with them! 

They also encouraged us to keep some stories for ourselves, to share the many extraordinary experiences with our loved ones but to keep some for us. So beyond the Kriyas, which I will continue to be vague and not really speak about, I also come back with some truly special Balinese memories that I’ll hold close to my heart forever. All I can feel now is how I’m meant to go back, to teach there, to absorb more of their beauty, culture and LOVE. And that’s exactly what I’ll do, in Bali, Cali and beyond. 

I have a lot to give, I am but a humble work in progress. Much of my teachings involve sharing my flaws and challenges with my students to maybe help them deal with their own, to show them they’re not alone, and as awesome as I am, and as wonderful as many teachers and leaders are, they are human too. No one needs to idolize or copy anyone else. At the end of the day, we all poop. Even Oprah and Brad Pitt have bouts of diarrhea, and that’s what keeps me going on days when I feel inadequate. We all poop, friends. Be Free. 

You are beneath no one. My path is unique. So is yours. I will encourage you along your path and trust myself in mine. I am grateful for each human being, for even the worst is a teacher along my way. I am worthy. I am deserving. So are you. 

Thank you, Bali. You’ll never know what you’ve meant. I move forward hoping to carry a fraction of your genuine goodness and peace within my heart. I’ll never be the same and I’m so so grateful. Thank you, Julie and Christy. Thank you, Mukti Yoga. Thank you, Mukti friends and yogis. Thank you, Yoga. Thank you, Me, for doing the dirty work, and at least being honest on this weird journey. Thank you, loved ones, readers, students, humans. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. 

OM SWASTYASTU!