• In Memory of Tobey Martin

    The following is a eulogy for my dear friend.

    The last time Tobey and I spoke was October 30th, 2019. I had (now, painfully ironic) sent him a Facebook message asking if he was still alive. Joking, but also slightly concerned. It had been months since we last connected and I know he avoided using a phone or social media.

    He had told me that he just finished a yoga teacher training in India, had left New Life, and the world was his. Happy Days, he wrote.

    I found out this morning that he was in Southern Thailand. I had wondered where he was in the world. I had thought many times about reaching out to him. I was curious how the pandemic was affecting him. To see if he was okay and if he had gone back to Australia.

    But I didn’t. We had dated for a little while and ended up agreeing that it was better to go our separate ways. I returned to the U.S. to start a new life and he was a happy, free spirit in Southeast Asia.

    Before we parted ways in Thailand, I bought two smokey quartz crystals. I gifted one to him and kept one for myself. I still have mine and keep it on my windowsill. It’s been there since I left Thailand.

    Tobey was popular. He had a collection of beautiful relationships with all different types of people. I was lucky to share a connection with him. Sometimes I felt that our connection was insignificant because he was loved by so many.

    He made a big impact on my life and who I am today. He always made me feel safe enough to share my feelings and be vulnerable. In fact, I remember sharing bits and pieces of my story and saying, wow I never told anyone that.

    I was lucky enough to know his heart. I loved hearing about the stories of his tattoos. His son. That time he spent way too much money in Hong Kong. His car accident. His childhood. How his family home was always filled with people, energy, and voices. The uncomfortable moments of his healing and recovery. How his lucky number was 3. How he fake married a girl he just met on the beach.

    Tobey was a beautiful person. And I am not sure if he knew how amazing he was. Or how much people loved and looked up to him. Leaders always have to be strong and I think he felt that burden sometimes.

    My favorite part about him was his teeth actually. They were so wild and out of control in his mouth. So imperfect and jagged. I loved the recklessness of them and how they popped out when he smiled.

    Tobey was wild and free and I am happy that he was able to live the life he did; filled with travel, adventure, connection, and community.

    I wish that I had listened to my impulse to send him a photo of the smoky quartz, ask him if he still had the other one, and wish him well with words instead of keeping it all inside. It shocks me that I will never have the chance to talk to him again. That all we have left of him now are our memories.

    I send my gratitude to his spirit for holding my heart so softly, for bringing joy and adventure into my life, for showing me around Chiang Rai on the back of his bike, for holding my hand in the market, for making me a better communicator, for his smile, for his honesty, for his strength. Thank you. I love you. And I am sorry for all the difficult moments you endured in this life. We will forever miss you.

    May Tobey Martin rest in peace.

  • Hot Stone

    It is just past midnight. I noticed light streaming in through my bedroom and went outside to gaze at the moon resting in the low sky.

    The full moon just passed, but it still glowed. I started seeing sparkles and illuminated dust in its aura. Was it truly energy flowing out or were my eyes getting dizzy? I stood sinking to the earth.

    My sensations and feelings don’t make sense to me. I ask myself directly: what do you feel right now? I don’t know. What if I knew?

    It doesn’t feel good – scared, insecure, cold, alone, lost, guilty. A heavy, concave feeling in my heart, my throat, my jaw. Uncertainty. Pressure. Anger, shock, the urge to explain myself. But there is nothing to be said or that I am allowed to say. Restricted because I can’t go back to change me or control them.

    The hot stone has been thrown to me and I am forced to hold it and let it burn my palms. Drop it. Let it go. It’s not mine and I don’t have to hold it anymore. I never had to hold it. Release it.

  • To Teach or Not To Teach Yoga at a Nursing Home

    It was time for me to get creative. I wanted to share yoga outside of the traditional studio setting.

    Here are 5 things that I learned after teaching yoga at a nursing home:

    Not Everyone Will Participate

    Most of the time, I felt like I was an entertainer instead of a yoga teacher because no one really participated. I had one or two people out of twenty who would try and follow along with me, but most of the people in the room were sleeping, telling me to stop, trying to leave the room, or too confused and/or sedated to do anything.

    I also volunteer at a non-profit Adult Day Care facility as well and it is a small group of participants (about 8 people) and they all participate. This facility is much more organized and chooses to bring people in the room who actually want to do yoga. Sometimes, it depends where you are teaching at.

    Sensory Exercises Can Boost Engagement

    Since I was having difficulty getting everyone to participate, I tried adding in fun little extras to get them engaged. I started bringing in my speakers to play music. I tried so many types of music, from relaxing to rock music, and found that if the music was calming yet upbeat, it created a nice energy in the room.

    I also utilized my essential oils. This worked the best! I would put a drop of oil in my palms and go to each person and have them take a breath. One time at the beginning and another at the end. They all really seemed to enjoy this.

    I also experimented with the lights and closing the door to the rec room, so that it felt more like an experience. Nevertheless, people were always in and out whether it was nurses or visiting family members, it was difficult to avoid a disruption.

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  • Dreamweaver

    I have ideas

    About the chapters in my book

    And sometimes I make plans

    But the best storyteller I know

    The skilled dream weaver

    Artist of life

    Veil of secrets

    Is the universe

    The ultimate creator

    And destroyer

    That force you feel mixing in the air

    Wondering which way

    The magic will blow