Posts in DIE WELL
STAYING ON THE PATH PART 1: RITUAL & MY GURU

I hadn’t seen Baba in a few years. He’s always been saint-like, but it still strikes me that each time I see him, that he seems increasingly peaceful, calmer, even more, connected to source. He radiates love and compassion. His presence fills every corner of the room with light till compassion permeates the air. I described it to a friend as probably similar being the presence of Gandhi or the Dalai Lama - you want to be closer and linger in that peaceful presence forever. 

Being with my teacher keeps me on the path. 

Even though I only seem him occasionally, it is one of many ritualistic things I do to me connect to a greater sense of purpose.

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DEARLY DEPARTED | JOY

Dearly Departed,

Thank you for teaching me joy. I could always feel your eyes on me, watching me as I moved about. The second we locked eyes you would break into a smile and laugh. And oh, how you would laugh. Your eyes would sparkle as if you were keeping the best, most wild secret. You lit up the room, affecting everyone around you. . .

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DIE WELLCarrie TylerComment
SO, APPARENTLY I WORK IN THE DEATH ARTS.

It was my 41st birthday, and Nate had just given me a pair of binoculars for my new bird watching habit.  (I love birdwatching, it's like navel gazing but with live animals). Anyway, the binoculars sparked a conversation with our waiter who turned out to be an avid bird watcher.  I had just asked him where his favorite place to bird watch was, which he replied, "Well... it's kind of creepy, but there is this cemetery..." to which I interjected without missing a beat, "Oh no worries, I work in the death arts."

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KINDNESS. POETRY BY NAOMI SHIHAB NYE

My heart is heavy with sorrow. My hope is that all the tragedies of late allow us to grieve deeply, grieve universally....

"...Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice..."
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

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DEATH. EAST ROCK. MY BODY AS TEACHER.

I am composing this blog post from East Rock on Star Island during my fifteenth year leading a yoga conference. Fifteen years. It seems impossible that it has been that long. As I sit here staring at the endless sea and thinking about the passage of time, I am also thumbing through a book about death, which has been on my mind a lot lately.

I always say that when I die I want my loved ones, friends, students, old lovers, old enemies, and anyone who I’ve danced with in this journey to come together at sunrise and throw my ashes off of this cliff.   This rock is my home and is infused with memories that range from sunrise meditations and soul-blubbering cries to some fantastic make-out sessions with a variety of lovers over the years.  I can only imagine how many other hearts this rock holds in the crags of its sparkling surface.....

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