Bhav Brigade: Year Two in Review

This past month, our entirely donation-based pop-up yoga platform, the Bhav Brigade, had it’s second birthday. Looking back, I’m not sure how it’s possible, but this past year proved to be even more transformative than our first. We kicked off the year by collaborating with our friends and local Kirtan band, PranaMuktiBhakti, to host The Yoga

A privileged heterosexual middle-class skinny white woman’s honest un-polished real-time experience of inclusivity training – Part One.

I’m doing an “inclusivity training for yoga” right now, because Bhav Brigade is a nonprofit yoga platform built on the tenets of accessibility and inclusivity and as it’s co-founder (one that happens to be all the things we tend to welcome in with open arms as a society) it’s important that I walk the talk.

How trust turned my hopeless SF Bay Area real estate hunt into an actual rose garden.

I’m moving to the west coast in thirty days. Where will I live? I don’t know. But what I do know is that I’m going to be okay. Everything will be okay. Always. Because it already is. I trust you, Life. This is the place from which I choose to operate, because when I do, I

Grasping Aparigraha

“Throughout college and my years in the army, I practiced racquetball in much of the same way I would later practice yoga: I made a study of it. Toward the end of this time I was watching two advanced players. The younger one was rushing about. The older one seemed to play with very little

My doctor’s love is important to me, but he does not know.

“My doctor’s love is as important to me as his chemotherapy, but he does not know.” I read this sentence and tears roll down my cheeks. I am alone on a hilltop somewhere without a name in New Zealand and the sun is out and everything is idyllic but I am weeping. This sentence hits

I am safe. I am lovable. I am enough.

It’s been said by Cognitive Behavioral Therapists (CBT) that the dysfunction we experience in life can generally be traced back to three core limiting beliefs: 1. I am unsafe (I am helpless, a victim, likely to be hurt, etc.) 2. I am unlovable (I am unwanted, bad, undesirable, likely to be rejected or abandoned, etc.)

Can we all just agree there’s no monopoly on suffering?

It’s become a pissing contest, particularly in American society, of who’s suffered more, of who’s endured the most trauma and lived to tell the tale. How often do we feel the spoken and unspoken question asked, “Who are you to suffer–who are you to cry trauma or claim hardship–when there’s x y and z happening