HOW TO STOP TAKING THINGS PERSONALLY.

I can’t seem to reiterate this enough, but the only constant in this life is change. Whether it’s positive or negative (or what I like to call surprises or accidents, depending if whether or not we like the outcome), we are constantly combatting obstacles that affect our lives... because secretly, we all don’t like change and are creatures of habit. COVID, on the other hand, has been an earthquake whose Richter-scale blowing tremors were felt and dealt with all around the world. It sent us sprawling as a society and a year later, we are still Easter egg-hunting for our pieces, attempting to put the puzzle back together in some semblance of how things used to be… or of what we at least remembered it being.

While I do actively practice keeping a positive mindset (this active reprogramming has been going on for years), I have to say that it has been hard to dodge, dip, duck, dive and dodge again (where my Dodgeball fans at?) COVID negativity that’s directed solely at me. Even if you end all of the known toxic relationships you have, there will still be times that you are face-to-face (or I guess nowadays it’s more like screen-to-face) with hogwash. Whether it’s a random tantrum from a friend or just a stranger having a bad day, it’s impossible to cut out all shreds of negativity from your life - but then again, we are not here to try and cut it out completely since that would be wasting time on the impossible. Instead, our goal is to learn how to master the dance of life. We must be aware that the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’ are the ebbs and flows, the ups and downs and just the other side in which the pendulum swings that makes life, life. There’s no bad news or goods news, there’s just news. However, being human, we have the innate need of labeling things, a survival trait no doubt, but we personalize, compartmentalize and then go

This post came about because I let my EQ drop last week and let someone get inside my head. I got quite upset and taken aback for about ten minutes when the realization that I was allowing the words of a stranger to give me a negative, physical reaction took me aback even further. There was a moment of, did mom really pay all that money for you to go to Tony Robbins seminars when you were 15 so you can let a stranger manipulate your feelings? Followed by an uh-uh betch, I don’t think so. So I went straight to my laptop and made some lemonade by coming back to my virtual home to journal, a cathartic hobby that unfortunately I have not been frequenting much. There is something calming about reading your thoughts and being able to dissect and classify them as batshit crazy or not… and to also realize how minuscule the so called problem which managed to trigger your inner psycho is and to then stop wasting any more time on the matter.

As I’ve been brooding over this post for quite some time now, I knew that I wanted to write about not only the magic that surrounds us daily that go unnoticed as we take it for granted, but the most important magic of all which, surprise surprise, comes from within. This most recent episode made me realize, what a perfect test from my personal life to practice what I preach and refreshen the lessons learnt in seminars long past. Why should I let the negativity of someone else have any effect on me? Rather having it as a blow, why not use it as an opportunity to let the wise words of Don Ruiz live through me and to practice the habit of not taking things personally?

“Don’t Take Anything Personally. Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.”

— The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz

Who is Don Miguel Ruiz you ask? Ruiz is a Mexican author of Toltec spiritualistic and neoshamanastic texts. If you have never come across his works, I highly recommend reading The Mastery of Love and The Four Agreements. I remember reading those texts in 2016 and it was as if suddenly I put on a new pair of glasses that finally had the correct prescription and I was able to see clearly again. We all secretly within ourselves know what’s right and what’s wrong, but we get caught up in our dailies that oft than not we forget the way, like Bodhidharma once said, “All know the way, few actually walk it.” Ruiz blessedly reminds us of the way in his works and inspires us to be the few that walk the path.

Now that was a terribly long-winded intro, but as I’ve mentioned earlier, this is also my therapy session right now, so I hope you’ve lasted to here. I’ve listed below some of the things I practice when I find my inner psycho awakening due to an external slight. Here are my five tips to not take things personally:

1. Remember who you are and that what other people say does not define you. Your actions define you. Don’t get defensive, just keep on doing you. False truths hurt but holding onto bitterness only poisons yourself.

2. Take a deep breath and realize that it’s not about you. Everyone is the star of their own movie and have their own problems and narratives that they are dealing with, you may just unfortunately be their emotional punching bag at that moment.

3. Journal. Writing is such a wonderful and powerful way to not only organize your thoughts, but to put things into perspective. You most likely will learn from the encounter and be able to make it a lesson learned.

4. Yoga. Center yourself through uniting the mind, body and soul by rolling out the yoga mat and free-flow or follow an online class. The mat is an impregnable palace that shields you from malarkey. Visit it frequently and think of it as your best friend and know that it’s as a reliable as the ground, it’ll always be there when you fall.

5. Walk it off. Unplug from technology and escape for a hike or just go for walk outdoors. If you’re lucky and are able to actually trek amongst the trees, marvel in the beauty of this world that we call home. Go back to the Source.

That’s it for now folks. I hope this was a helpful read/reminder for anyone who may be dealing with drama in their lives. Remember, you are the master of your own reality. Cut the umbilical cord of allowing external forces effect you and take charge of your own emotions. One of the best offense and the best defense in life is having a high EQ to be able to brush off the BS and end that unnecessary suffering. It’s not easy, but the benefits end up being astronomical. I’ll end this with a poem I wrote in 2013 since I’m in an oversharing mood and in hopes that you will remember my words.

Choice: M i s e r y I n f e c t i v e

We like to dwell in our sorrows,
thinking there will be no better tomorrows.
This late-night passive-aggression,
that seems like every poet’s obsession.

Oh why can’t we choose to be happy?
When the colors are grey, to see beauty?
Why must we feed each other’s depression?
That the world is ugly, full of suppression.

I now choose to look a little deeper,
seeing “pretty” does not make me weaker.
I choose to look for a different perspective,
I know it will be hard; misery is infective.

But I know that I have a choice:
To feel sorrow or to rejoice.
I’ve lost chapters to grief and sadness,
To realize and continue? Now that would be madness…

Much Love,

Samantha

Heaven or Hell? The choice is yours

As we broach close to four months in our new COVID-19 reality, the uncertainty of what the future will hold has had trepidations tremor up and down my spine. Whether or not the enigmatic way of life BC (Before Covid) will be better than how it once was still remains a mystery thriller ready to unfold, but what I do know is that these ongoing uncertainties have my synapses flaring up old memories of when tragedies were only stories read in Greek plays, that is until facing my very own. Since my dream for this site is to one day evolve into a community where we can share, learn and support one another through our life experiences (along with keeping the inner psycho at bay with consistent practice of yoga and yoga philosophies), I feel that it’s only fair I begin by sharing some of my own most personal experiences. These are surreal times we find ourselves living in, but I can’t help but feel lucky that we are in a day and age where we are all able to connect and learn from one just through some few clicks of our fingertips. In essence, all of this social distancing and quarantine time has us reaching new hopes of humanity by sharing through the web… so, I’ll start:

I remember the first time my world was “disrupted” and it was experiencing life as a typical Third Culture Kid. We had to move from Korea (where we had lived for four years) to India (where we resided for two and a half years) and then again from India to Cairo. The constant moving would continue until I was 17 and bound for university, living in a country no longer than four years tops. Moving at a pre-pubescent age was a delight, an adventure to new lands where hidden treasures of new friendships lay. Of course it could get frustrating having to be constantly be the new girl and unsure of where to sit at lunch… or who to invite to my birthday (I was always the youngest in my class, with my birthday at the beginning of the school year). However, none of it really mattered because I had my family. Both daunting and exciting, these disruptions didn’t usually come with so much forewarning, but were still welcomed and something to look forward to.

However, none of these moves, which taught me to adapt quickly to new environments, prepared me for the change that shook, or shattered is a more concise adjective, my glass menagerie world. My father had a heart attack when I was 11. He was 53, extremely fit - both mentally and physically with daily exercise and meditation - was a leader on all fronts and was admired by all, but most of all, by me. He was my knight in shining armor.

His sudden passing, which happened exactly one week before Christmas, had the illusionary floor (and by that I mean I thought it would always be there), suddenly dissolve and sent me tumbling down a rabbit hole, one that still exists within me today. We were waiting for him to join us for Christmas break in Switzerland. I remember the phone call vividly, we were all seated for a family dinner (we were having raclette). Bob Walsch, who was my father’s boss, called and the energy changed so quickly. What began as a fun family dinner quickly turned into confusion and then soon to heartbreak. I remember Bob speaking, but I couldn’t make out all of the words, all I knew was that something horrific had happened. Why wasn’t my father speaking? Why did Bob have that tone in his voice? Why was Bob, my father’s boss, suddenly breaking down? Sometimes you don’t know need to hear the story to know what’s already happened, my father was gone. We were all crying and I went to hug my mom and I remember all I could say was sorry over and over. I don’t know why those were the words that came out, but that’s all I could say in between breaths. I won’t go into more details, but my mom had to take the next flight to Cairo to begin packing up our house and prepare for funeral arrangements. I would join a week later.

That moment, which has shaped me so much as an individual, made me begin questioning Life. If there is a God (I wasn’t raised religious but in true TCK fashion, said a prayer to Jesus before dinner and would pray to Buddha with my mom before bed). What is the purpose of life? Am I allowed to laugh or enjoy living anymore? These were hard revelations to try and tackle at 11, especially without my mom or siblings around (we were all trying to deal with this new reality that it was hard to be there for one another). I remember my niece, who was 4, and I were playing in the snow one of the days before going back to Cairo and at one point we were laughing and I quickly stopped because… well, I remembered what happened… I’d never see my dad again. How could I be living life still? How has life continued without him? And how dare I laugh and have forgotten for that moment? I asked my aunt if it was ok and she held me and said something along the lines that I shouldn’t hold back my happiness, that my dad wouldn’t want that. It was so hard not to feel guilty, to continue living knowing that my knight in shining armor, who touched so many lives and helped them, was taken in an instant. It was after that moment that I knew that I could never take anything for granted... that just when you think your life couldn’t be more perfect, life has a funny way of throwing a curveball at you that makes you question the purpose of existence and what’s real.

My mom somehow managed to make the transition from living a lush (albeit spoilt) expat life with what I saw through my innocent 11-year old eyes a perfect family, to working-class life raising four kids, three put in public schools and a family trying to pick up and fit back the pieces together after a tragedy. We (my siblings and I) were foced by the schools to attend therapy since my mother had to state what happened to our family during the application process. Even then I remember I couldn’t bring myself to really talk about it because I knew I was already one of the lucky ones. That fate had me born into a family that not only had money from decades of hard work, but was full of love, true love. How dare I feel sorry about myself and what had happened when I was lucky enough to even have had my father as my dad, even though our time was cut much too short. I knew from living in India and seeing poor children begging on the streets trying to make ends meet that I was lucky.. so what gave me the right to wallow?

It’s strange to think that our fate somewhat is determined by what family we are born into. When I heard about India going on a complete lockdown I automatically thought about how all of those people I recall living off the streets, trying to make ends meet whether it was begging, doing the odd job or stealing. How are they going to survive this? Who is going to take care of them? Its thoughts like these that can tear down my soul like a rampant tornado. Thoughts like these can be debilitating because there’s no way one person is able to solve everyone else’s problems - so what can I do? How can I help? It’s then I have to remember that what I can do is be there for those around me. Whether friends or strangers, from a smile to a donation to a helping hand to someone when they fall on the street, the energy that I bring to those around me and the actions I take is where I can make a difference. This is also a reason why I started this site. We can easily go crazy filling our heads with thoughts of some of the terrible realities out there. That there are children starving, and have been starving for decades. That there re families torn from wars created by power-hungry leaders. The list can go on and there is only so much I think that most of us can stomach hearing. Tragedies happen all around us, every moment, but so do miracles. Now more than ever is a time we need to shift our focus to miracles. You, yes you, have the ability to change a life for the better.

There are things out there that we cannot control, and that is life itself. It is constantly changing and for some, can be fleeting, like a shooting star. It doesn’t make sense a lot of the time and although we try our hardest to put some rationale into it, some things aren’t meant to be understood, they’re just meant to be felt and to be learned from, even if we never asked for the lesson. I’ve been revisiting my memories these past few weeks, something I usually avoid as I can easily slip into a dark place where it’s hard to crawl out of. Life can seem so cruel at times, but as the saying goes, you win or you learn, and I think it’s especially during a crisis in which we can learn the most. I’m sorry sugar, but life can’t always be gumdrops on rooftops with blue birds singing. Our generation has been blessed not to have gone through a Great Depression or have had our men drafted into power-fuelled wars. This pandemic that we are all going through has finally broken down the protective, illusionary walls that many of us have built for ourselves. Life is vulnerable and must be cherished. I know we are all dealing with this new COVID-19 reality differently and physically separately in times of isolation, but at the same time, collectively. I used to feel so alone and be depressed, although putting on a happy face when going meeting friends, but for some reason, I don’t anymore…

So we do the best we can to help not only ourselves and family, but those around us. I want to end this post with a story I remember hearing when I was six and living in India… it’s funny how some stories resonate with you for life. Anyway, maybe you’ve heard it too, but since COVID-19 has emerged, it’s been echoing in my mind. It goes something like this:

A holy man asks God to be shown Heaven and Hell. God takes him down a hallway and opens a door to a room. In the room there’s a cauldron in the center with what smells like a delicious stew. Around this pot, emaciated and miserable looking people are seated around it, trying to feed themselves with a spoon that can reach the stew, but is too long to feed themselves. God closes the door and then guides the Holy Man further down the hallway and opens another door. The placement is a mirror image of the previous room, a delicious stew in the center of the room with individuals seated around it with long spoons. However, the people in this room are thriving, vivacious and laughing. God closes the door. The Holy Man said he doesn’t understand, the circumstances are exactly the same in the two rooms, why do those in Hell suffer so much? God answers, because they only think selfishly and try feed themselves. The spoon that is attached to their hands, however, is too long to do so, so they starve in their greedy attempts. The individuals in the room of Heaven live in harmony and feed one another, and that’s why they thrive.

I hope that this post wasn’t read in a negative way, because that is not my intention. To me, this is a recognition of tragedy as part of life’s lessons. To believe that we are in total control of our lives is an illusion. We don’t have control over everything that happens to us or around us, but we do have control of how we react and our own actions in our “room.” Live your life fully, tragedy will always be a part of our DNA, but so is compassion and our ability to help others.

Sincerely,

Samantha

The Time We Decided to Do Kambo

The first time I heard about Kambo was from a good friend who messaged from Costa Rica saying he partook in an intense detoxification ritual that involved substance from a tree frog... My initial response was: so did you trip? The answer? No. No you do not trip since Kambo is not psychoactive and is not something you do for hallucinatory gains. So what is Kambo and why do people do it? Great question since tomorrow I will be part-taking in my very first ceremony.

Kambo is a traditional healing ritual that’s been used for centuries by Amazonian shamans to restore balance to the mind, body and soul. It calls on the medicine of a giant monkey tree frog, phyllomedusa bicolor, to bring about a deep physical, emotional and spiritual cleansing process. The end-game is to return you to a balanced equilibrium by detoxifying and rebooting the immune system, releasing stagnant emotions and eradicating negative energy held within your body. Kambo is known in Portuguese as the “vaccine of the forest” and has been used in Western cultures as a treatment for chronic pain and drug dependence.

From the 1990s onward, the practice of Kambo has slowly been migrating from the forest to the cities, where its healing properties have been gaining momentum on a global scale as more and more people seek alternative paths to medicine. Whether you’re looking to heal addiction, physical disease, mental illness or past emotional wounds, Kambo might be something for you to consider. A follow-up post dedicated to the science behind the sacred medicine of the forest and how my life has been post-Kambo will follow in the next coming weeks, as for now, let’s focus on the experience itself.

I wasn’t looking for Kambo specifically, but life led me to him and I’m eternally grateful that it did. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect since five days prior to the ceremony, I was suddenly afflicted with hives which covered me from my ankles to occasionally my face. So I was excited, albeit nervous, to try Kambo and witness the miraculous results firsthand.

If you know me, you’re probably aware that I’m the youngest of four and that I’m extremely close with my family, especially my mom. So of course I let them know that I found a ceremony within an hour’s drive away and that I would be parttaking in a few days time. Come morning of the ceremony, my mom tells me she wants to take me and not to worry, she’s already packed her audiobook/snacks and is ready to go. We walked in with no judgements or expectations, just a nervous curiosity and an open mind. We entered a beautiful home where there were tapestries decorating the living room floor and soon began meeting the wonderful individuals who also found themselves in that same space that day. For most, it wasn’t their first rodeo - out of the eight, only two of us were virgins.

Clueless, I followed Bree’s lead (who was there for her second time) and found a vacant space that was by the wall so I could lean back the times that I wasn’t leaning forward over a bucket - if you’re not aware, a lot of throwing up is involved. Eventually when we had all settled into our spot and made our water and tissues easily accessible, Anabel, our beautiful practitioner for the day told us briefly what to expect during the ceremony as well as where she was taught and given blessing to share the sacred medicines of the forest. We went around in a circle introducing ourselves and what our intentions were. Come go time, the medicine was administered by first burning the top few layers of skin with a burning stick. The amount of burns you receive depends on the practitioner’s intuition and your body’s natural reaction to the medicine. As for myself, I received six.

It is common for women who receive Kambo for the first time to receive on their right ankle and for men, on the left. Those who have already experienced Kambo can choose to get the medicine in different areas of their body, some cover chakras that they feel need aligning, others choose to get them in a design of their liking. I stuck to tradition and had mine on my right ankle. If you’re going to ask if the burns hurt, the answer is: no shit Sherlock, you’re being burned. But it’s not intense - a little pain for immense gain - and yes, it’s worth it. Simone, who was helping Anabel that day, came over and cleaned the burns which was then ready for applying Kambo.

As it was my first time, only one dot was covered to see how I would react. After a minute or two, I felt a buzzing in my body and shortly after I felt cold, occasionally getting body tremors. I remember most notably that at one point both of my hands seemed to be vibrating on their own frequency. Anabel came back and checked in on me within a few minutes of the initial application and then continued to apply Kambo on the remaining five dots. By this point, everyone was retching, replenishing themselves with water, and retching some more; I tuned inwards and focused on my breathing. After a while I could feel heat gathering throughout my body, which slowly moved to my face and to the tip of my ears. The heat felt like it was pulsating and had a life of its own, which then slowly honed in on my cheeks.

During the process I lost all concept of time so I have no idea when I started throwing up. However, at one point I did hike up my loose jumpsuit to check in on my hives and was shocked to see my legs completely covered in a dark red pattern, almost like it was a map of some unknown world. I rolled back my sweater to check my arms (which were getting itchy) and they were immersed in small bumps. I won’t lie, for a split second I freaked out inside since this was the worst I had seen my hives, but having faith in Kambo, I let the initial shock flow through me and refocused my attention to my breathing and allowing the medicine to heal. After doing more research post-Kambo, I found out that the worsening of my symptoms was my body going through something called a healing crisis (or healing reaction) which is the process of eliminating toxins.

When the regurgitation finally subsided, we emptied our half-full buckets to the trees in the garden, giving back to Mother Nature as Anabel described it, and then took a quick breather in the sun. I noticed my face in a window’s reflection looking alarmingly swollen and was told that some people call the effect Kambotox since the process can cause swelling of the face. Some say it’s attributed to leaning forward over the bucket throwing up, if it’s the truth, who knows. All I do know is that I seemed to be the only person rocking major frog face, but I let go of my vanity and focused on my gratitude as it was then that I checked on my hives and, to my surprise, no remnants remained. My skin returned to its normal hue with not a sign to be seen of the most recent trauma and if anything, it seemed to have a glow to it. I gave a mental thanks to Kambo and a hopeful prayer that the results were permanent.

After the exhaustion from throwing up dissipated, I felt a renewed energy and excitement from experiencing firsthand the miracle of Kambo. I stopped taking Benadryl that day and left Anabel and the group with what seemed to be permanent rose-colored vision. I ran out to meet my adorable mom, eager to share my experience during our drive back home through sunset.

Conclusion? I’ve drunk the Kambo koolaid and am eternally grateful that I did. Thank you Anabel to the medicine that keeps on giving. PS the hives? Gone and dusted.

For more research and info on Kambo, check out Sacred Heart Kambo.

Until next time,

The Haute Yogi

““The medicine of science is inseparable from the medicine of the soul.” (LIMA & LABATE, 2007).

”

The Time We Decided to Reconnect

Feeling Lost in the Theme Park Called Life?

You’re not alone human. Connect with the Haute Yogi and keep your head above water.

A year has flown by since we quit our jobs in Hong Kong and started our epic adventure. From trekking to Everest Basecamp to biking through the sands of the Atacama Desert to dancing from dusk to dawn and back to dusk again in Ibiza, there are no adequate words I could possibly thread together that would justly describe the sights and sounds consumed. Yet as our vagabond voyage has finally come full circle, and the longing for a home has slowly become an overwhelming, soul-consuming sensation, there has come the realisation that the time of consumption has come to an end, and the time to create and articulate my new identity has arrived.

 It’s been just over a decade since I moved to a new city. In a way it seems foreign writing this because the last time I blogged, the longest I had lived in a place was for four years, and those countries included Korea, Egypt and, at that time, Hong Kong. So growing up, the awkward where-do-I-sit-as-the-new-girl-on-the-first-day-of-school lunches became routine and being told that it’s time to pack and move became blasé (to put it in perspective, I went to three different high schools). However, now, at 29, the idea of starting over in a new city feels daunting… a reaction completely opposite to the natural itch for change I used to have as a Third Culture Kid (TCK). TCK?

Coined by the American sociologist Ruth Hill Useem, TCK refers to “a child who has spent a significant part of his or her developmental years outside their parents’ culture.” Individuals who fall into this category tend to mold their sense of identity by converging their birth heritage and their adopted culture into a blend of their own, a third culture. An intermingling of the experiences of the cultures they’ve absorbed in each new city growing up, we are the literal mutts of the world. With no loyalty to one single country or culture, our feeling of self-identity boils down to (depending on if it’s a good day or a bad day): Am I rootless or am I free? Where do I belong? Where does anyone belong?

Maybe that’s why I’m so predisposed to practicing yoga, because I have a natural feeling of having a semi-permanently stuck Muladhara chakra, one that needs to be oiled up with constant vinyasas to be freed. My yoga practice came in waves when I was living in Hong Kong, which was home for a full 10 years, and looking back a clear pattern has emerged. Whenever I was overtly stressed or change was in the air, I revisited my practice, diving deeper and deeper until at one of my tipping points in life I decided to join the Yandara family and become a Registered Yoga Teacher.

Now you might be wondering what point I’m getting at and to tell you the truth, I’m not sure there really is one in this post besides my acknowledgement of being lost like a kid in a theme park called Life. This is my story that I need to write down in order to get a better understanding of it myself. While traveling and having fun no doubt is a point that people strive to attain, it does take its toll on one’s self-identity, especially when you’re in the last year of your 20s and have left what you finally considered home behind… a home that you can’t even recognize anymore when watching the news.

The toll has been getting harder and harder to bear, and my innate urge to dive back into my practice has come to the point where it’s not just time in the studio that I need, but complete dedication down the road of spirituality and self-discovery. I suppose creating this blog is an extended metaphor of building myself a home, a virtual one that is available at the touch of my fingertips. Whilst I may still be living out of suitcases and finding myself on a plane to a different city every two weeks, this is a place where I can now take solace and grow in, a place where my Muladhara chakra will hopefully accept and thrive in.

I’m not sure who you are and if you yourself are lost, but I hope that if anything, my words have resonated with you and that you find yourself back here again to join in on the journey of self-discovery. We can share this virtual sanctuary that holds no walls or judgements, with just the purpose to grow and Zen out the inner psycho. Until the next epiphany.  

Yours truly,

The Haute Yogi