Yoga, Sex and Death: A Return to Grace

The Oxford Dictionary defines grace as “a quality of behavior that is polite and pleasant and deserves respect.” It’s a pretty superficial definition, isn’t it? It focuses on the facade of grace.

I’ve been reading Adyashanti’s “Falling into Grace” and his definition touches on something more intrinsic and meaningful. “The aspect that is most important in anyone’s spiritual life, perhaps more than any teaching, is the aspect of grace. Grace is something that comes to us when we’re really truly available - when we become open hearted and, most importantly, open minded. When we’re willing to entertain the possibility that we may not know what we think we know. In that gap, in that sustaining of any conclusion, a whole other element of life can rush in.”

In 2019, Samarasa Center was a physical space in Silverlake - an easy walking distance from my house. From the first moment I stepped in, I just knew it was a special place. I started doing Pilates and yoga there and I just fell in love with it: the instructors, the vibe as soon as you were greeted at the front desk. And of course, all the people who were showing up - and they were in my community!

I’d gone through a painful divorce in 2017 - I had ended a ten-year partnership with the proverbial nice guy. He was and continues to be a lovely person, who I respect and love. Nothing was glaringly wrong on the outside. The inner landscape though was in dire need of attention - we were no longer evolving together; a passivity had settled over the relationship which we could not fix despite many attempts. My East side community at the time consisted of friendships through my ex husband. So I had essentially lost most of my community through the divorce - there was no bitterness about that, it was just how I saw it. I was looking forward to making new connections and Samarasa seemed like the perfect place to nurture new friendships.

As soon as I heard Susan’s laughter ring throughout her studio, I felt a wave of magnetic energy. When I introduced myself, she looked me directly in the eyes, taking me in like the smell of freshly baked bread. She hugged me like a long lost friend. This is how she treated everyone. Susan, gorgeous and sunkissed, has a laugh that bellows from her core and is all-out contagious. She is a burst of curiosity and passion. Secure in her authenticity, she seemed to me then and still now, both fueled by all that is beautiful and sacred and, at the same time, by all that is absurdly comical. No topic or idea is off limits. She is a great listener and can be present with you wherever you’re at - as easy and free as the wind.

I first heard about Yoga, Sex + Death™ in the Fall of 2019. Maybe I saw a flyer posted somewhere in the studio. Or maybe Susan mentioned it after a meditation class. She would be leading the workshop and, of course, that drew immense appeal. My intuition screamed, “Say yes!” The name was provocative. I wasn’t really connecting to my yoga practice like I was to Pilates. So I signed up thinking it would deepen my understanding of yogic teachings and principles. The word sex most caught my attention. I was like, “Hell yes - let’s talk about sex baby!” I was having a sexual renaissance after ten years in a partnership that was not very sexual. Maybe the workshop would teach me some new tools to become a better lover? I was down to find out. The word death probably held the most discomfort. Thinking about my own mortality - or of someone close to me dying - had always been disturbing and unpleasant. As we know, thoughts that cause us discomfort typically point us to places where we have something to learn - areas we have an opportunity to expand and evolve. A little more on that later.

Just before the first class, I injured my shoulder and was contemplating dropping out of the workshop. What if I couldn’t do the yoga poses? The excuses for opting out started rolling in. So I wrote to Susan. Her response was very supportive and, at the same time, she wasn’t having it. She explained that we’d be practicing Tantric Hatha Yoga, a very slow style of yoga that focused on the energetic body. If at any time, the movement felt uncomfortable, she could offer me some modifications - if those didn’t work, I could just sit it out.

The first lesson of YSD came fast. “Resistance is a bitch, isn’t it?” Susan said in the first class with her usual knowing smile. She said that whenever we’re on the verge of expansion, our subconscious drops in to protect us from the unknown. It works tirelessly at one objective: to keep us safe and in the comfort zone. I was not fully aware of it yet, but resistance was also showing up in my romantic relationship. At the onset of YSD, I’d been dating John for close to two years.

I was having a great time (hello, sexual renaissance!) but I was skeptical of its longevity - not because of any particular red flags. There was a strong connection between us - and it wasn’t just the sexual chemistry. We just got each other and it was both easy and fun being together. Yet I was often weighing my ego’s perceived pros & cons of the relationship in my head. I told myself I was still healing post divorce and that it was too soon to get involved in a new relationship. But I think more truthfully, it was this: I was in this liminal phase where I was free to explore my life, myself, my future - it felt like anything was possible. To commit to John would mean picking a lane and to put it bluntly, that felt limiting to me at the time.

The very first exercise we did in the workshop was slightly uncomfortable but potent. We had to write down how the women in the group could best support us through our six weeks together. Asking for what I wanted - even knowing what I wanted from others - was challenging to put into words. But it’s vital to get clear on our needs and have the courage to tell others how to meet them. We had to email one other woman in the class, letting her know how we could be supported. I asked for a “buddy in health” - not just someone to go hiking with but someone to “Hold me accountable” to the things I said I wanted or I said I’d do. Another woman asked for a bit of casual but loving touch. Another asked me to get lunch and talk about my experience with career transitions. Our needs were so vastly different and specific to each of us. This exercise helped instill an awareness that we are always in this reciprocal dynamic - we are both the givers and receivers of support, in this process of healing and expansion.

For six weeks, we gathered in what I call the circle of trust. We shared secrets, personal challenges, intentions and dreams. We had to list out personal nos - areas in life where we were compromising our own boundaries. Where were we conceding to things we didn’t even want for the sake of others. We journaled and talked it out. We danced and practiced other somatic movements to move emotions and constrictions through our bodies. We cried and even more so, laughed our asses off. We meditated and practiced yoga together. Everything was designed to put down the masks we wore, to drop us more into our bodies, more into our hearts. I’d never felt so honest, so vulnerable and, at the same time, so calm and present.

When we’re fully in our authentic flow in one area of life, it tends to spread into other areas. Constrictions in the body and in life begin to shift. All the sharing and dearmoring in this setting with this empathic group of women, I could see now that I was fully armored in my budding relationship with John. I was not allowing myself to fully receive the gifts of this connection because deep down I was scared of getting hurt. What if I let him in and then he lost interest? Weren't men mostly interested in the pursuit? What if he was misrepresenting himself? What if I finally communicated my needs and discovered he just couldn’t meet them? There were countless terrifying what ifs.

On his side though, he was patient and at ease - he put no pressure to change or rush things. He just made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. He seemed so comfortable in himself - he just kept leaning in regardless of his own fears of getting hurt. As I came to see it, he deserved a partner who was in 100%. So I had a choice to make: break things off or fully commit to the experience and see where it led us. The result of all this inner work was more acceptance of whatever came. Like I said, I had never before felt so connected to my heart. And when we truly drop into the truth of our heart, then we can make more authentic choices in the moment. I heard Julie Piatt, a yogi, entrepreneur and wife of my favorite podcaster, Rich Roll, say once, “The heart will never fail you…so it doesn’t mean that you’re going to have the trajectory that you think you’re going to have in your mind or in whatever you thought life was going to be…the biggest thing we have to do is live in resonance with the heart. The heart will not leave you.” That has stuck with me.

When I could truly listen to my heart - without the noise of the ego - I realized that this partnership was bringing joy, peace, adventure and healing touch back into my world. He could even gently hold a mirror to stuff I needed to look at - not arousing insecurity or defensiveness, only a subtle awareness of my own behavior. He’s always made me feel safe and protected. My feelings, my health, and emotional well being are looked after. And that environment is the perfect nurturing one for personal growth. But even if it all changed and went to hell, I was able to get to a place where I knew that I would most certainly grow from the experience. After time, the “what ifs” seemed less scary. I was building a strong container to hold anything that came my way. I‘d survive - better yet, I now trusted that I could thrive no matter the outcome.

Our closing ceremony for YSD was at El Matador Beach, on a sun-drenched carefree Saturday in early March of 2020. Less than a week later, Covid 19 morphed into a tsunami of death and tragedy throughout the world - and we went into lockdown. There was no end in sight and we were all faced with tremendous uncertainty. It felt like the death of those carefree days spent hugging and laughing on a blissful beach, walking hand in hand for a dip into the ocean.

Samarasa soon closed its doors - a sad turn of events for so many of us. Things went dark for a bit; luckily, we had this amazing group of sister friends to rely on. We did several YSD zoom calls throughout lockdown, even meeting at the park a couple of times - this all helped bolster our spirits through one of the hardest times in our collective herstory. It took Susan a period to rebound from the wave of change and grief - but after a while, she successfully took the Samarasa community online, offering a library of yoga classes and biweekly meditation zoom calls.

YSD helped broaden my perspective on death. We are literally experiencing tiny deaths on a day-to-day basis. The one constant is change - the one thing we can count on is the impermanence of things. The more we can consciously let go of what was and embrace the present moment exactly as it is, no matter what, our resistance to change loosens - and the better we’ll be at facing that “final” death. We can make it a ceremonial practice and treat it like a sacred experience because it is. Covid tested our relationship with death in every possible way.

But with death also came birth. I made the conscious choice to step both feet into the relationship. I've heard it said that the pandemic was like a pressure cooker on relationships - it either accelerated closeness or the undoing of relationships under that tremendous pressure of a lockdown, economic change, and the death of normal. The pandemic brought John and I closer together - when it came to our fears about contracting covid, we had a similar calculated risk assessment. We went on long hikes since nature was not off limits to us - and it seemed, at least to us, a safe place to be. We cooked, perfected the charcuterie board and the dry martini. We had dance parties for two and watched countless movies.

He was so clear in his “yes” for me. In his commitment and devotion through good times and bad - through fun times and the sheer drudgery of lockdown. John proposed in 2021 at a dinner with his sister and mom. It was a beautiful surprise, all the more meaningful because he invited them to witness and document the proposal. He loves the women in his life - and they love and support him back - and it's a beautiful thing to witness.

We were married in 2022, choosing not to do a wedding; instead, we opted for a European elopement-honeymoon. It was an epic adventure that exceeded all our expectations. We travel so well together - we’re always working in partnership - each of us brings our strengths to the table and they complement each other. We both have a talent I’d say for being able to just drop into the moment and enjoy ourselves, in the smallest of pleasures.

Five months after our honeymoon, Samarasa did its first co-ed Yoga, Sex + Death™ intensive retreat in Guatemala. I was drawn to say yes once again: I wanted to see old friends - two of them were graduating from the YSD facilitator program - and I was looking forward to making new connections. When I mentioned it to John, he was intrigued and open, even though he had never done yoga before and could count on one hand the number of times he had meditated. He also understood it was important to me and so, agreed to join me on this adventure.

The 7-day retreat was held at Villa Sumaya on Lake Atitlán in Guatemala. I’m sure like every other spot on the globe, the pandemic touched Lake Atitlán, Villa Sumaya and its people. I kept thinking how there must have been loss there - of course, the pandemic must have interrupted its sense of normalcy. But on some energetic level, the place seemed unscathed by the pandemic. All I felt was love - as if the land were saying, ‘YES…and’ to whatever was happening.

A place can play a powerful role in an experience. It can be its own living entity, as tangible as a person beside you. I’ll never forget the calming effect of Lake Atitlán coupled with the energizing effect of the seven volcanoes. I’d never before heard sweeter bird songs in the morning. Lush vegetation surrounded us, enveloping us in its beauty like a reassuring hug, whispering, “You’re ok. You’re held.” I remember the old dogs laying on the cold stone lobby floor under pink morning skies. The black cat on the property we called Shiva, after the Hindu God, that would join us at the communal table for meals - that showed up to our room one night and slept on our bed. The rain visited us throughout the day, like heavy emotions, without the harsh cold of the judgment mind.

We practiced yoga in an expansive light filled room overlooking this sacred lake. Like the seven sister volcanoes, we were tight in a circle as one - doing sun salutations, chanting, and meditating. It felt so precious. As nourishing to the soul as the delicious Villa Sumaya meals were to our bodies. Especially, in light of just having lived through 2 I/2 years of social distancing and isolation - we were once again in community, in the full sense of the word!

No zoom call can take the place of being together in the same space. The term “holding space” took on a literal meaning. While the term has gotten a little worn, there is no more beautiful gift that we can give each other as humans: to be vulnerable and speak from the heart. To be heard and seen and then give that back to another.

We embraced, we cackled, we shared personal stories, we wept. We aired out old stories that had a grip on us - of friends and lovers disappointing us. Of lovers and friends wounded by us. The first step to healing is feeling heard. And that’s exactly what the circle did. Perhaps newest to the course was The Work of Byron Katie and a process called inquiry. You can take any thought or statement that is causing you suffering and through a written and dialogue process involving a series of four questions - plus a turn around question where you turn the original statement on its head - you start loosening the grip of the truth of that statement. Maybe you gain a new perspective. Maybe you just feel the slightest prick of light start to enter a thought that has brought you suffering.

I had been grappling with a loss and I brought it to the circle. One of my oldest and dearest and friends at the time, took my elopement and my choices leading up to it, as a personal betrayal. We had a difficult but much needed conversation when I returned from my honeymoon. I was angry and in shock - how could she be so self absorbed and make my elopement - this happiest time in my life - about her? How could she assume the very worst about my intentions around my choices? In the end, she announced that she was going to walk away indefinitely from the friendship. It was hard to take in - she had worked valiantly at resolving conflict with other friends and, from my POV, she was dropping me like a bad habit. It triggered some old ‘unworthiness’ narratives. The scenario was so full of friction - it required looking inward for healing and resolution. I was encouraged by Susan to do inquiry on it. And after Susan walked me through the process, I made the shift from looking at this as an abandonment to having a more empowered perspective: two women choosing to honor their vastly different experiences of the same events, choosing to be in their integrity and walk away from a relationship that no longer felt nourishing or mutually supportive. In fact, it hadn’t for a long time.

The work in YSD teaches us to surrender to the moment as it is, without judgment. The first time around, the surrender led to the birth of a beautiful soul connection with John - now I was back at YSD with him by my side as my husband and life partner. It felt like such a cool full circle moment - I was filled with gratitude. The second time around, I surrendered to the death of an old friendship. I abandoned the need to be right and make her wrong - I could just observe this undoing without struggle, because fighting against it would only lead to more conflict and pain. There is freedom in allowing things to be as they are. I firmly believe the Universe doesn’t make mistakes - no matter what, things are unfolding as they are meant to. And in the pain and friction, I believe there is always a lesson - a kernel of wisdom that we can learn from for the purpose of our evolution.

I found Byron Katie's inquiry process so helpful and healing - but John was drawing a blank on what thought / dilemma to bring to our inquiry circle. At some point, after talking it over and giving him a few suggestions, he said “I don’t want to do inquiry.” He let me know his thoughts and I said, ‘That’s ok. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Susan and Keith’s response was the same. At some other point in my life, when I was more driven by ego, I might’ve worried that his choice would reflect poorly on me. But the closer I move towards grace, there is a clear understanding that his “no” has nothing to do with me. His no is about his own personal boundaries. He is honoring his own experience. And I respect that. Just like he honors mine. I have zero need to control his experience or his takeaways. I was there having my own experience and letting him have his - that kind of partnership feels so liberating.

One of the phrases that most stuck with me from the retreat came from Keith, co-facilitator with Susan. He said, “All parts of me are welcome here.” That’s how I felt during the retreat and how I continue to feel in the Samarasa community. That is reflected in my relationship to self and in my partnership. The practice of integration is a lifelong practice. How easily we can start to divide and push certain thoughts and little parts of ourselves aside - as this goes unrecognized, shame and negative self-talk creep in. How easily our inner armor can go up in an effort to protect ourselves from discomfort, conflict and the like. The unspoken and the unexamined can easily begin to gain a false power over us. May we always be moving towards relationships - especially with self - that can see and welcome all parts of us.

At the start of the retreat, we set intentions in a beautiful opening ceremony. John said he was there to become a better partner. I was there to connect with my heart - despite all the good in my life, I felt a little out of touch with it. I was also there to jump into the lake both literally and figuratively. In other words, to step outside of my comfort zone. To watch my partner step outside his comfort zone. I didn’t know this until later - but I was also there to gain some perspective on our growth over the past four years together. I value the grace in my husband - he can enter situations with curiosity and a “don’t know mind” - he can step into the unknown with an open mind and heart, suspending the need to judge or evaluate. He can handle a little discomfort because he knows that's where the growth happens. All the limitations that I worried about four years earlier were just false stories of the mind.

“He’s clearly so devoted to you,” Susan observed one day. And of course, that resonated and made me smile. May we continue to grow as partners. More specifically, may we continue to make the choice to evolve together - I do believe that it’s a conscious choice. And, always, the first conscious commitment is to myself: to bring an openness to my heart and loosen the false grip of the mind. To push the envelope on my vulnerability, to make investments in myself, like YSD, that lead to my expansion and greater evolution - and to explore all the tools that aid in my integration. One that we explored in the latest YSD retreat was connecting with the inner child and hearing what she has to say. I’m doing work with a wonderful life coach and we often call in little Lili to check in with her. It’s powerful work. How quickly we can start to go through the motions, to perform for others for approval (ie, what we learned to do as kids), to put on the masks and lose some of that authenticity of who we are - even to ourselves.

The truth is there will continue to be moments or periods where I lose touch with my Self (ie, that place removed from ego and the masks); however, in YSD and the larger Samarasa community, there is always an invitation to wake up from the dream - to come back into the circle and to share what’s really going on. No masks needed. The stories are always there, with changing narratives, just waiting to be examined - which ones are currently bringing us suffering? Then, there is an invitation to remember the tools at our disposal to drop again into our energy body and affirm trust in an innate intelligence - to trust we have the answers within us. That we are all miracles and that life is wondrous - even with all of its suffering, joy, fear, love and the entire spectrum of emotion - it’s all a beautiful mystery. Everyday is a new invitation to practice the tools that help us return, even for a brief moment, to a state of grace.